"Yes," he whispers, and adds an even quieter Sir. His eyes are glued to the wall, though he could probably have sneaked a glance at Jade and what's to come. It's not what he wants, not what he needs to prove himself still worthy of Jade's attention, and so he gives up the slighest bit of control over the situation, over himself, that he could have had.

Jade catches him just as he's about to inhale --

Shinjirou wishes he could scream, but he chokes on his tongue and all that comes out is a broken ugh. A searing heat spreads from the angry line the whip has left on his back, skin flaming up. The pain blinds him, tears stinging in his eyes, and he takes quick gulps of air to make up for the momentary loss of oxygen.

It's soothing, having his frustration taken care of like this. He allows his cheeks to stain, standing still apart from trembling lightly. This isn't punishment, Jade is right about that. It can't be, because then he wouldn't be relieved, would he? Wouldn't wait for the next hit without trying to prepare himself for the impact.