At first the words "halo, abstain, prayer" did nothing for me. But, in my usual way, I've gone and twisted them a bit.
Twin steel halos around his wrists. The thought catches at his lips and pulls them into a smile, for what could be angelic here?
"What is funny, pet?
It's something Rob has to remind himself constantly: do not be a writer here. Turns of phrase become strokes of the cat so easily. Abstain from the metaphors and witticisms that paid for the cuffs, the straps, the whip.
"I asked a question." Jean's words, the English still tinged with Nice after five years, precede his touch on Rob's face. "What is in your mind?"
"Truly? I do not come here to play with nothing."
Jean kisses him hard, his teeth pinching Rob's lower lip until he whimpers.
"That is reason for being here," Jean says. "For worshiping me with your tongue."
And after he steps away, as the air hisses around the lashing straps, Rob writes a new prayer: "Punish me, Master, for I have sinned..."
Critique welcome. :)