I hushed, except for the little ow’s and the soft crying. I stopped struggling and I took my punishment. “There,” he said, with satisfaction. He tapped the paddle against my bottom lightly. I whimpered. “You took that very well, sweetheart—especially considering it was your first time.” I heard the paddle drop to the floor, and I felt him rubbing and realized that my loins were on fire. It was as if I had never even known what it meant to be aroused, before. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Thank you, sir,” I said, without even meaning to open my mouth, expressing a sort of gratitude so sincere it seemed to come from another age. I don’t often speak utterly without premeditation, and when I do I often regret it. What was happening here in Geoffrey’s house over Geoffrey’s lap was evoking that part of me that I tended to regret, but searching my feelings as he continued to rub my bottom, I found no way to regret it. My response to being called a good girl was a pure desire to please this man who had now, it seemed, taken me firmly in hand.
