Good Girls get Gifts

          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. 
           I nodded.
           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.   

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