Dean gives an involuntary wince for the sound of it, exhaling with a tiny, shaken laugh. His back hurts more with every moment, no sting left to distract from the throb, and the thought of that whistling crop striking any part of it has his heart racing.

He turns away from the sight, head tipped back to regard his own hands holding tight to the chains. Dean might have just been told to shut up, but he's pretty sure he won't be silent for long.