The Surgeon told me that he had a gift for me. Something special that he picked up at Bloomingdale’s. His voice changed as the words came out, becoming thick with desire.
I was perched on the edge of the sofa. He stood in front of me, over me. The position made me feel like a young girl. He asked me if I was ready for my present.
It’s this belt, he said, looking down at me. This belt I’m wearing. I bought it just for you. He raised his hand and caressed my cheek. My mouth opened. I made a low moaning sound.
Why don’t you take it off for me? He asked. His voice had fallen to a whisper. Take off the belt and look up at me while you do it.
I raised my hands to the elegant gold buckle. The metal had a little heft to it. The leather was brown. The small whispering sound that it made as it glided through the belt loops on his trousers. I remember it so clearly. I was spellbound.
He beat me with it from the top of my shoulders to the bottom of my thighs. The buckle left a clear impression on my ass that lasted for two weeks.
Good girls get gifts.