2  Sa’afia had put her wrists together behind her back. I’d told her to. She liked obeying very easy orders. I’d wrapped two old silk ties – nice fabric, but unfashionable cut, so they were only good for low-budget bondage – round both wrists, then round each wrist, with a non-slip knot. I took the long ends and slipped them down between her buttocks, then between her thighs, pulling them tight against her cunt.

Sa’afia had pressed and rubbed the silk, breathing hard, until the ties disappeared between plump lips. I’d smacked her bottom as a kind of reward, and told her to get her ass up. While she complied, making a rounded tripod of her chest and her parted knees, with her ass at the apex, I’d run the ties under her.

It wasn’t quite like this. She was prone, not sitting. But the emotion is right, and it’s a pretty picture anyway.

The moment at which this memory still is centred is when her fingers felt for mine while I tied the silken ends together.

The silk, where it re-appeared below her cunt, was already wet. She smelled of arousal, and cocoanut oil and soap and spices, a red spice I couldn’t name. She had turned her head so her eyes were on me. I amused her, I think, just then, but she didn’t smile. 

1  Sa’afia lay long and strong across my knee. She wasn’t being spanked. She expected to be, since she’d asked so sweetly to be punished. I couldn’t remember what it was that I was supposed to be punishing her for. It didn’t matter because I knew Sa’afia didn’t remember either, and she wasn’t going to ask me. Anyway, she’d expect that if she asked I’d be sure to punish her for forgetting.

She wasn’t a remotely silly or gullible person, but in that moment she believed that I knew everything important about what was happening, that I was in charge, and that all was well in the world because I cared for her and was just. 

She could feel that way because it was a sexy thing to think, and because she could rationally know that if I could help it I’d do nothing to shatter that faith.

Her ass was raised a little, not to much to invite the spanking she expected but because I had the lips of her cunt held firmly between my right thumb and forefinger. I had to hold and squeeze very hard, because she was very wet. She was getting wetter, demanding a tighter grip. Her buttocks trembled slightly, with the effort she put into being still.

She’d drawn in her breath and was still holding it because a few seconds ago I had twisted her lips hard to the right, as if they were a key, before relaxing back to vertical. She was expecting another twist. She was not wrong. 

I sat up on Sa’afia’s bed, watching her swallow the last of her tea. I’d drunk mine, but she’d been talking about Ana’s father and the cops. It explained why the cops hated him, and that they were, as I’d thought, trying to get at him through his daughter. She  finished her tea and her story, and put the cup down. She said, at last, “So?”

Eventually I said, “Thank you. That’s incredibly helpful.”

“But what do you think?”

“I think that crease in your tummy, just below your belly button, is just fucking beautiful. Incredibly beautiful. Amazing. Fuckable.”

Sa’afia gave me the full eye-roll. “Don’t make me wonder what I even see in you. What do you think about Ana’s tama?” 

I looked at the sheets between us.

“Y’know, I thought I was cynical but I’m actually shocked. I mean, the cops here, they can be fascists. No, they are fascists, literally. They’ll frame people if they think they’re guilty but they can’t prove it. They’ll bash up protestors just on principle. And they’ll beat up suspects if they can’t get a conviction, just to punish them. Like that.” 

Sa’afia nodded patiently. 

“But y’know, I didn’t really think the cops – . No, I don’t mean ‘cops’, and I don’t mean LA cops; I just mean, the guys in this precinct, that’s all. I didn’t think when they break the law it’d be over money.” 

“You think money’s trivial, don’t you?” 

“Oh, look, I know it’s not. I wouldn’t be a parole officer if they didn’t pay me.” Sa’afia glanced at me. She was thinking that I could do something that paid better. It was true, but she let it pass.“But yeah, the local cops, they’ll never be friends of mine. But I know them a bit. They’re fascists, but if you’d asked me, seriously, I’d have said they weren’t corrupt. I’m just surprised they threw away so much self-respect for so … little. That’s all.”

Sa’afia said, “Oh, bless.” She reached over and touched my mouth. “I hope you’re not so naive you’ll just get Ana in worse trouble now. She’s not going to be happy with me anyway, that I’ve told you about this.”

“Well, she won’t find out from me. Or the cops. And yeah, I can be naive, but I do know how to do some things. I won’t use this unless I know what I’m doing and what the outcome will be.”

Sa’afia looked at me. “Maybe. You might know some things. Maybe. So what were you saying about my belly button?”