Stephanie, over my knee, bottom freshly and pinkly spanked, looked up at me. I’d just asked her if she’d like the remaining twelve smacks to be delivered by my belt rather than my hand. She looked at Maires then, kneeling in front of her so their faces were close, then back at me.
“Well, I do like your hand. It feels intimate, when you’re spanking me. The belt would hurt more.”
I looked over at Maires. “Maires, you’ve had both. Lots of both. What do you think?”
Maires smiled up at me, then looked Stephanie in the eyes. “Stephanie, Master has a hard hand. He can spank every bit as hard as a belt can land. He’s keeping you comfortable because he wants you to have a good time – I think you can guess why – and that won’t change if you choose the belt. Or not so much that you don’t enjoy yourself.”
“But it’s a piece of leather. It isn’t him.”
Maires shook her head. “Still his hand, and you’ll know it. It’s definitely personal.”
Stephanie was silent for nearly a minute. She looked back at me. “I’m over your knee getting a spanking. So we’re playing a sexy game. That’s … not really weird. But if you use a belt across my arse, then that’s not playful. It’s more real. That would be unusual. Well, it’d be weird, if I picked that and then liked it.”
I smiled and rubbed her arse. For comfort, hers and mine. She waited but I said nothing, just slipped two fingers between her buttocks and stroked near her cunt, but without touching. She sucked in a breath.
“If I pick the belt, will you stroke my cunt properly? And then fuck me after?”
“Yes, but it’ll make no difference. My hand or my belt: I’ll still choose when I stroke you, and when I fuck you. You don’t get to make deals, love. Call that Submission 101.”
I moved my fingers back, further from her cunt. She clenched her buttocks to trap my fingers in place. It was too nice a trap to resist. Maires was staring at me, wanting to speak. I said to her, “Any more advice?”
“Stephanie, you’re right about intimacy. It’s really important, especially when we’re doing this. But believe me, the belt is intimate. It’s still Master’s hand, wielding the thing. But also, it feels very intense. You know it and he knows it, He’s watching you carefully, and you know he is. You feel his focus, on you. There’s a real mental connection between you. I like both his hand and his belt.”
“But you’re a weirdo.”
Maires grinned. “Yeah, I even like it when he canes me and fucks me up the arse afterwards. But you don’t have to be afraid of going further. That’s just old programming. I mean, you aren’t really scared of the belt, are you? You’re scared that you’ll enjoy it, a lot, and then you’re scared that you’ll be changing.”
“I…” Stephanie looked back at me. “Do I have to call you Sir, or Master like Maires does, if I pick the belt?”
“No. That’s a separate discussion. You’ll watch the end of Maires’s punishment first. Then we’ll talk about that, all three of us. But I really do think you’ll find the belt an interesting experience.”
Stephanie laughed. “That’s not the word I’d choose! But all right, I must be as mad as Maires. Belt me, darling.”
“Twelve strokes, little one.”
“Still sounds weird. ‘Little one’.”
I looked at Maires. She’d put the belt down by the wall when I’d given her permission to speak. “Little one, bring me the belt, please.”
Stephanie relaxed her muscles, holding my fingers. I stroked her cunt as a reward, then slipped my fingers into her. She sighed and opened her thighs further. So we were in communion, happy. Maires brought me the belt. “I think she wants it hard, Master.”
Stephanie stared at Maires, outraged or mock-outraged. Then she made an indignant, “Well I never”, sound through her nose and I knew she was still playing.
I tapped the belt lightly across the underside of Stephanie’s gorgeous bottom. “Noted.”