But he didn’t kiss me. He just held my hips and spoke softly into my ear.
‘You don’t have to do a thing I tell you to, Sarah. You can say no whenever you like. Is that understood?’
I nodded.
‘I want you to say yes, though. In fact, I want you to say, “Yes, Sir.” Can you say that for me?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
He sighed.
‘That’s perfect. Are you ready?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘You’d better be.’
He let go of me and took a step back, picking up the strop again.
‘Well, Sarah, I don’t know if this will ever be the same again after the way you’ve treated it, do you?’
‘No, Sir.’
‘Exactly what was it you did with it? I want to hear your confession.’
‘Oh, God!’ I really don’t want to tell you out loud.
‘Understandable, that you should mix me up with a deity, but I’m not your god, Sarah, just your master. Now tell me what you did. I want the truth.’
‘I put it somewhere I shouldn’t have.’
‘And where was that? The airing cupboard?’
‘No, Sir.’ I probably shouldn’t have giggled.
He slapped the leather down on the desk with some force and I jumped.
‘So?’
‘I, uh, put it next to my, uh, private parts.’
‘Your private parts.’ He mimicked my prissy voice. ‘And once it was there, slap bang up against your private parts, what did you do with it?’
‘I, sort of, rubbed it against them.’
‘You masturbated with it,’ he said, narrowing his eyes in mock horror. ‘You committed the sin of self-abuse. With my razor strop.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ I whispered, shaking with humiliation. Or arousal. Actually, both.
‘And what did you think about while you were doing it?’
He was too cruel. He knew exactly which buttons to press to rack up the shame and mortification.
‘Must I answer that, Sir?’
‘Of course.’
‘I thought about how it might be used.’