I cupped them in my hands and stroked my nipples with my thumbs. I couldn’t look at the camera for this, until he commanded me to do so in a voice that brooked no refusal. So I gave him my sulkiest under-eyelid glare and carried on.
‘Would you ever get your nipples pierced?’ he asked.
I winced.
‘I can’t imagine it.’
‘It would make them even more sensitive. And you could have little rings and I could put a chain through them and pull you along by it.’
I sucked air through my teeth. It all sounded very worrying. But if he wanted me to do it, I probably would.
‘Or you could have little studs with my initials,’ he said idly. ‘Because they’re mine, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Right, off with your skirt.’
It was a tiny mini anyway, barely covering anything. I slipped it down over my newly shaved pussy. I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me about piercing that.
I stood back up in only stockings, suspenders and high heels and twisted my body round to the left, trying to get my face right out of shot.
‘Are you hiding from me?’ he asked in a teasing sing-song. ‘Hide and seek. OK. Turn around then.’
I presented my back to him with some relief.
‘I can see some little bruises on your bottom, Sarah. Some fading marks. I’m zooming in on them … nice and close up. Can you tell me when you got those?’
‘You know when.’
‘For the camera.’
‘Three days ago.’
‘And how did you get them?’
‘I, uh, you did it.’
‘I’m aware of that. How did I do it?’
‘With a cane, Sir.’
‘That’s right. You got a good caning, didn’t you? How many strokes?’
‘Six, Sir.’
‘Would you say they were six of the best?’
Unconsciously, I let my hands stray around to touch my bottom, reliving the hellish smart.
‘No, I would say they were six of the worst.’
He laughed.
‘Oh, that was nothing,’ he promised. ‘Nothing at all. Do they still hurt a little?’
‘A little. I can sit down again.’
‘For now.’