“Yes, sir.” Sa’afia had received the news that I needed to punish and fuck her with calm that might seem odd to people who were not like us. But a dom is never sexier than when he or she is cruel and implacable, or pretending to be. We’re cute when we’re angry.

Wet, on the phone.

I knew that grey-bland quietness in Sa’afia’s tone, when she’d called me sir. She was thinking about submission, and already starting to submit, and she was trying to hide that. 

I softened my voice for a second. “If you behave yourself while I punish you, you might just get to be my good girl again. Would you like that?” 

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. It’s -” 

“Girl’, I’ve told you I don’t care. And Sa’afia?” 

“Sir?”

“This is going to be a hard lesson. Hard for you, that is. I’m going to hear you cry, darling, and I’m not going to stop just because of some tears. You’d better bring that stick.” 

“Oh! That stick really hurts!” Then she said, quickly, “Yes, I mean, yes sir, I’ll bring you the stick.” 

“Good. Tonight you’ll sleep naked. And you’ll have the stick under your pillow. And you’ll think about how hard I’m going to beat you, tomorrow.” 

There was a long silence. Sa’afia had gone into a good place. Eventually she said, “Oh yes. Um, Jaime, sir, I’m really -“

“You’ll be sorrier tomorrow. Don’t be late.” I hung up.