Sa’afia crouched, naked, holding her stomach in, worried whether she looked beautiful. She touched the floor with her fingertips and lowered herself awkwardly to her knees. She looked up at me.
I scowled down at her, as best I could. “Of course you look beautiful.”
“It’s not the most elegant position.”
I tapped the rod against Sa’afia’s bottom. Her mouth formed the letter O, appealingly. But she made no sound.
“No, I didn’t give you permission to speak. And I don’t believe you’d forgotten.”
Sa’afia mouthed, silently, the words, “Sorry, sir.”
I shook my head. “Of course I’m going to punish you for that, Sa’afia. I mean, seriously. How badly would it suck it I didn’t? You’d hate it. So lean forward and lift your bottom up. Yes. Now arch your back. Think of a cat begging to be fucked. I want you like that.”
There was a little noise from Sa’afia. She’d liked that image.
Things were happening that she’d thought about but not expected to experience. I took a handful of Sa’afia’s hair and pushed so that she bowed her head while she presented her ass. “I want that arse of yours just begging for the cane.”
Despite herself, Sa’afia smiled at that thought. She arched her back a little more. I stroked the corner of her mouth, and she made to kiss my thumb and fingers.
“Yeah, good girl. That looks beggy. Beguiling.”