I was standing, hands at my sides, bottom bared, fingers lightly playing with the sides of my thighs. He was sitting in the leather chair behind me. Silence, then, “Do you remember what you told me I should do to you? Because of how serious this offense is?”
I froze, fingers stilling, then grasped an idea, “Yes… but only if you wanted –” I took a breath, then, resigned, said quickly, hoping the speed could help me get the words out, “Blindfold — me — and — use — the — crop.”
There was history to this. He’d done it before, and I’d freaked. It was the first time I’d told him to stop. Now the magic words “crop” and “blindfold” loomed before my brain, snickering at me, pointing accusing fingers, claiming I was too afraid. I hated being so afraid of anything.
“Yes, you did say that.” His voice was calm. “You said that I could.”
Needless to say, this time she liked it much better…