“O my god.” I had watched Chloe bending over with intense fascination. I might have preferred her to be naked, but the uniform was still an interestingly perverse touch. “Yes. Yes, I think I want you very much like this.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I took the strap and tried to tap it against Chloe’s bottom. But a strap does not tap. Without force, it flops. So I swung the leather lightly, testing, and it collided with the rounded centres of Chloe’s buttocks with a reasonably satisfying smack and a sigh from Chloe. But it left no mark, and I wanted Chloe to be marked.
I swung again, a little harder. I got a louder clap, though no sound or movement from Chloe. It left a faint pink stripe, three inches wide, across Chloe’s white skin. I decided that about twice as hard as that should be about right.
I gazed at her. She waited to accept whatever I might do. Her face was pale, composed, serious. I put the strap down, and Mr Mortimer shrugged in disbelief at that and left. But I didn’t need him any more.
I put my hand on her left hand. I couldn’t reach her face to kiss her, so I kissed her bottom. She smelled aroused, headily so. I said, “Chloe, you look so beautiful.” I stepped back to see if she smiled at that. She did. That reminded me of something. “You’re a good girl.”
I picked up the strap, and our agenda.