It takes ten minutes to make him coffee when I’m wearing the bar. At least, if I don’t want to demolish the kitchen. But it has to be right, or else he’ll take the pad off me. The pad sits across the back of my neck and stops the bar wearing against my skin. Too much sugar, not strong enough, and I’ll end up sweating and chafing against the steel. I should maybe explain. Not a lot of people ever get to wear a discipline bar. It’s a one-and-a-half metre steel with a cuff at either end for my hands and a half-hoop in the middle to hold it over…