Reader, I looked Svitlana in her eyes, and held that gaze while I brought my hand down, hard, on her inner thigh. She kept herself still, and though she gasped when my hand landed, and frowned and sucked at her lower lip, she did not move. 

We watched each other’s faces while she experienced the sharp impact and then the after-warmth of having been deliberately smacked, and I enjoyed the memory of the cool firmness of her left thigh as my hand had landed. I held that memory in my hand. 

She still stared at me, a little afraid, not of the potential pain of anything I might do, but of the strangeness of her own response to being out of her own control and under mine. I smiled at last, and Svitlana gasped again, relieved. I said, “good girl.” 

She still had her thighs open as wide as she could present herself, and I touched her cunt, at the lowest edge of her lips, and stroked upwards. She was wet. My fingers swam in aroused Svitlana. She shivered slightly, wanting more, and I stroked her again.

Svitlana let her head fall back onto the pillow, and gave up her body to my stroking fingers, . After a while, she put her heels back on the bed and lifted herself, making her cunt and her other entrance available to me. In response I sped up a little, and Svitlana’s face took on that tenseness that said she was about to come. I let my finger slip all the way into her, and said, “nearly”. 

Svitlana only moaned. She’d closed her eyes. She was only a second away. 

With my other hand I smacked her right thigh. Not lightly; the sound was like a starter’s pistol, and her thigh rippled under the blow. I could see my hand[print, white against white. In seconds it would be a bright, clear red. Svitlana made a high-pitched noise, like a howl. There was a word in that howl. It was, “Harder!” 

I smacked her left thigh again, as hard as I could, then put the hand that had slapped her against her mouth. “Now,” I said, “come.”