Svitlana thought for a moment or two. I’d just told her I was going to punish her for disobedience. She wouldn’t have had any qualm, if I’d simply smacked her thigh. But announcing it in advance, and specifying that it was punishment, that it was for disobedience, that made it hard to take. 

This was not going to be a night she could discuss with Mayne and Barbs, the dyke couple who were looking after her, let alone with Kerry, the angrier dyke who’d told her I was a bad man who spanked women. Kerry had done me a favour, though that was another thing that would never be said. Not to Kerry, anyway.

It’s the waiting that makes it hot.

She said, with utmost wariness, “Okay. If I were going to let you punish me for closing my thighs, what would you do?”

I smiled. “No. Ask me how I’m going to punish you.”

“Punish me for what?”

“Ask me, nicely, to punish you for closing your thighs when I told you to open them.”

“You keep shifting the ground!” 

“Yes. So you should ask me, very sweetly, to smack your inner thighs, to punish you for closing your thighs when I told you to open them.” 

We looked at each other. I was grinning like a fox. We held each other’s gaze for a few seconds, and Svitlana burst out laughing. When she recovered she said, “All right. Would you please, pretty please, smack me on my inner thigh – is that right?” 

“Just do as you’re told.” That was a growl.

“On my inner thighs, to punish me for closing my thighs when you told me to open them.”

I kissed her, and we held that for some time, my hand caressing her scalp through a handful of her hair. Eventually she broke away for breath, and I said, “Since you asked so nicely.”

“Hah!”

“Left thigh. Bend your knees, and keep your thighs right open, so I can smack you. And don’t move, or I’ll have to give you double. You know that.”

“Yes.” Svitlana obeyed, lifting and spreading her legs to offer me a delicious white, rounded target. I wanted to kiss her cunt, now most prettily framed, and fuck her. But first there was business.

I raised my hand, hovered over the target, three inches below her cunt.

Svitlana drew in her breath. Her stomach muscles tightened. She looked away, and then, drawn by awful curiosity, gazed back into my eyes. I let her wait.