‘I’m mildly disappointed,’ I purr.
Hands knotted in her lap, her secret smile is back. ‘Then maybe I am. Just a little,’ she admits, pinching her forefinger and thumb together in a sign of tiny measurement.
‘How naughty?’
‘Whatever level constitutes a punishment where you take me back to bed.’
I watch her, my expression one of consideration with the intent to put her on edge. I stand quite suddenly, the chair grating against the floor, and hold out my hand, my smile disarmingly wide.
‘You dislike my taste in music. I’m going to punish you for that first.’
Throwing a hand to her cheek, she adds fluttering lashes for further effect. A distressed damsel she is not.
‘Oh, no! Whatever will I do? Stop!’ She might invoke a little Penelope Pitstop, but excitement added to her breathlessness, I can tell. I begin to stalk to her side of the kitchen table.
‘Shall we start the bargaining, then?
‘Bargaining?’ She looks suspicious. Not really surprising; she’s already called me a devil from time to time.
‘The desired punishment,’ I reply as though this is perfectly apparent. ‘My expectations might not meet yours. Where shall we start the bidding, love?’
‘Bidding on what?’ She sounds bewildered. It’s hard not to laugh.
‘Bids are not on, but rather for. You’re not that gullible. Come on, you’ve got your desired reaction. I’m going to punish you. What’syourmaster plan?’
‘I haven’t got one. I just thought I’d, you know, get you to take me back to bed.’
‘I don’t need goading into that.’ I shrug for effect. ‘Oh well, too late to go back on it now, but we can get to fucking later. For now, what will it be?’
‘I have no clue. No idea what you’re talking about,’ she replies, looking a little perturbed now.
‘Come now,’ I purr, sliding my hand to the metal buckle of my belt. ‘Don’t pretend not to know. What happens if I want to, say, smack you with my belt?’ I shrug again as though this is a reasonable request. She obviously hadn’t thought of this as a consequence.
I watch her gaze sink down to the Italian leather wrapping my waist. What was in her eyes? Was it anticipation or fear? It’s hard to tell.
‘I suppose that’d be okay,’ she replies quietly, though she doesn’t sound convinced. ‘Let’s just go to the bedroom. Fool around a little first?’ It almost sounds as though she was building up to the belt. Excited. A little scared.
‘A fine plan, but it’s not really a punishment then, is it? And I doubt we’d get to the belt in the end.’
‘Good.’ Her eyes flick southward again. ‘Looks like it’d hurt.’
I laugh. ‘Maybe, but isn’t that the point of punishment?’
‘Doesn’t sound fun. Or warranted.’
‘But you know you’d enjoy it; that delicious sting right there at the end.’
Her expression seemed to say,not as much as you, by the look on your face.
‘How about I whack you first, just to be sure. You can tell me how it feels?’ God loves a trier, so they say. Not that her attempts are working here.
Ignoring her bravado, I push my hand under her arm, helping her to stand.
‘You’ll endure it,’ I whisper. ‘Of course, you will. For me.’
Sitting on her vacated chair, I pull her between my open knees, splaying my hand across her collarbone and moving it steadily south until it’s insinuated between her legs.
‘Pick a number,’ I say softly, watching her face as I rock my palm against her clit. As I rub my fingers along the denim seam between her legs.
