am perfectly posed the way he has trained me to be. I am in enough trouble already, I don’t want to push him any further tonight. My hands are folded neatly over my head, my feet equally spaced, shoulder length apart, my butt pushed out just enough for it to be on display for him, and I am naked as the day I was born. There was a time when being naked, even in my own home, would be terrifying to me. Bentley has helped me overcome those insecurities, especially with him.
“Good girl, Butterfly.”
The warmth of his breath is on my neck. His big hand comes up, wrapping itself in my hair, pulling my head back. His lips come down, claiming mine. I moan into his mouth, opening to him for the taking. It has been a month since I last saw him. He is intoxicating. I can’t get enough.
More. Please.
“My naughty girl has some payment due before she is allowed a drop of pleasure.” The kiss is broken, he releases my hair. My cry of distress fills the otherwise silent room as I turn towards him, a slight pout on my lips.
“Tsk, tsk. Back in position, you know better.” A firm hand swats my naked rear. Whimpering lightly, I obey.
The clock on the wall ticks loudly in my ears, and I wonder how long he is going to stand there, watching me, saying nothing. Has he moved? Is he still within arm’s reach?
“Come here, Butterfly.”
He’s sitting in the tall-backed chair that he moved to the middle of the room. How? When? It is as if he is magic, the way he is always moving quickly and silently. Leaving the corner, I approach him, eyes down, until I am a few inches from him before gracefully kneeling at his feet. Leaning back on my knees, I rest my hands on my inner thighs, palms facing outward, presenting myself to him. I stare at the carpet, waiting for him to address me.
“Good girl. Look at me now.” He waits for me to look up before he continues. “What rules did you break today, Butterfly?”
“I didn’t text you back within fifteen minutes of you texting me, Sir.”
“And?”
“And I called you by your first name, Sir.”
“When are you permitted to call me Bentley?”
“When we are in public or at official work events, Sir.”
“Do you have a good reason for ignoring my texts, Butterfly?”
Looking at my hands, I think about my response for a second. He is a reasonable dominant. He will be understanding. If I had been in a meeting or incapable of answering for any number of acceptable reasons, he wouldn’t punish me for it. I don’t have an acceptable reason. I wasn’t in a meeting, I simply hadn’t picked up the phone. I had chosen to ignore the text messages. It is not a good idea to lie to him. He has a weird sixth sense, it is almost as if he can read my mind—he knows, he always just somehow knows when I am not telling him the entire truth. It can be infuriating, I never get away with anything.
Isn’t that what you always wanted?
Oh. Shut. Up.
I really hate my inner voice some days.
“Look at me and answer.”
“No, Sir. I did not have a good reason to ignore your texts.”
“Thank you for telling the truth, Butterfly. It is always better on you when you do. Okay then, let’s get this over with. Neither offense is particularly naughty. I believe a hand spanking will do. A quick reminder of who you belong to, whose rules you follow, and what I expect out of you. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Sir.” Am I ever truly ready to be spanked by him for punishment? Not really. But boy, do I love the aftermath.
“Come here then, girl. Over my knee.”
I readily obey. It wasn’t that long ago that I wouldn’t have been quite as quick to scamper up and over to him; I would have been too nervous, too skittish. But not now. We’ve spent the last year together, learning each other. He has trained me exactly how he wants me to behave and shown me how little patience he has for games. Stalling, to him, is very much a game.
I lower myself over his thick, strong thighs. He shifts under me, lifting his left leg.
“I thought I had trained you out of these bad behaviors, Butterfly. These types of things shouldn’t be occurring this far into our relationship. If you need a reminder, I will