‘Something’s amusing you?’ said Richard severely. ‘Or is it relief that you aren’t going to get your full just desserts quite yet?’
‘No, sir, nothing, sir.’
‘Really? Because I’d be very relieved if I were you. I’d be thanking my lucky stars, and my lucky masters.’
‘Thank you, sir. And sir.’
‘I think, in that case, I’m going to use the belt this time. Fetch.’
He snapped his fingers.
Lucy knew this was the signal for her to drop to her knees and crawl. She made her way over to where the strap lay and spent some fruitless moments trying to get it between her teeth without using her fingers.
‘No hands,’ reminded Richard when she was tempted to just nudge the thing into an easier position.
She huffed and tried again, succeeding at last in getting the thick leather between her teeth, biting down on the shine. God, it smelled good.
She scurried back to Richard, sat back on her heels and offered her gift to him. He took it from her mouth and thanked her.
‘Now, you need to pick that stool back up and bend over it, with your palms flat on the seat.’
The stool was having a rough evening, it seemed. First masturbated over, then shagged on, and now it would be the venue of an incident of corporal punishment. Lucy wondered if it had often been so ill-used.
She put her hands down on the threadbare fabric. Luc
kily it didn’t seem to have any traces of its earlier employment on it but, when she bent lower, she could smell sex, a potent mix of her and Rob. Well, perhaps that would help her through the ordeal to come: a little reminder of pleasures past and, hopefully, future.
‘Legs absolutely straight, slightly apart. I shouldn’t have to tell you this.’
She arranged herself into Richard’s preferred posture, wanting to snap back that she couldn’t be expected to remember every detail of both her lovers’ tastes. Rob nearly always had her over his knee; it was Richard who liked the more formal presentations.
She heard the sofa creak and watched him get out of it through upside-down eyes. She could only see his legs now, pacing behind her, and the long dangle of the strap from his hand. He’d need to put some distance between them to get a decent swing. She shuddered, her thighs suddenly trembly.
From the corner of her eye she saw Rob sit forward, perching on the edge of the sofa.
‘How many strokes?’ asked Richard.
Was he asking her?
No, it transpired he had addressed the question to Rob.
‘How many would I give? Well, that would depend on a lot of things. I think you’re the best judge, to be honest. I sometimes use my belt on her, but it’s hard and fast when I do and I don’t count. I just stop when I think she’s had enough.’
‘I see. Has she ever safeworded with you?’
‘No. With you?’
‘Yes, a couple of times.’
‘You’ve taken her a bit further than me, then. You’ll know her limits.’
Richard seemed gratified by this, as if it made him the senior dom. He who spanked hardest won at life, apparently. Lucy wasn’t sure she agreed with this philosophy, but it had its merits.
She pushed her bottom out, the way he always insisted she did and waited, eyes shut, lungs prepared for some serious breath control.
‘Don’t you do a warm up first?’ asked Rob.
Lucy exhaled heavily. If they were going to chat about it all night, they could at least let her out of this demanding position. Her muscles were tense and beginning to wobble already.