Sa’afia said, “Nnnnnn,” again. Her eyes had closed and her bottom lip was between her teeth. I still had her left arm gripped above the elbow. I swung the belt down, medium hard, letting it slap diagonally down her arse. The tip slapped at her right hip, making her gasp.
It took nearly a second for her to decide that it hurt more than she’d expected.Her ass shook, like a horse trying to throw off its rider. I watched in admiration until she came back into position, thighs a little apart, ass arched up.
I spoke to her, then, in the voice that a man uses to calm a skittish horse. “Good girl. That’s good. Now hold still, darling. I’m going to hurt you.” Nobody talks to an independent woman like that, and that was one more way of emphasising that she wasn’t free. I turned the buckle over twice to shorten the length of belt, and swung it again. It smacked across her arse, but this time the tip landed flat across her right buttock. Sa’afia made a sound that was part pain, with a trace of luxury in it. This stroke had had hurt, but in a good way. She kept still.
I applied more strokes, slowly making them harder, until I was getting raised marks with each one.
But there was something not quite right. Sa’afia should by then be floating, riding a sea of endorphins and lust, but she looked uncomfortable. It may seem odd to worry about the comfort of a woman being thrashed with a length of thick leather. But she should have been calm and happy with the pain I was giving her, and just then she wasn’t. I stopped. Sa’afia swallowed. “Jaime. Jaime?”
I took a step forward so my body touched hers, and held her hip and thigh against my legs. “You okay, love? What’s the matter?”
“Sorry. I’m sorry, sir. I can’t. It’s loud. Your belt. It’s so loud. I don’t want Ana to hear.”