“I-I would like you to, um, put me over your knee and spank me.”

My cock almost ripped through my boxers and trousers, Incredible Hulk-style. It was as if she’d read my mind. Or perhaps the comment I’d made in her office about rendering her backside red and sore before taking it in my hands and licking her pussy until she screamed had made an impression. I certainly hoped so, because at that moment there was nothing I wanted to do more.

“Okay,” I said, bringing her hand to my mouth and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “It’ll have to be my hand, though. I don’t have a paddle or anything with me. I wasn’t expecting to play with anyone tonight.”

“Well, are you going to tell me or do I have to guess? I warn you, if I have to guess, it’ll be so much worse for you.”

“N-no, it’s okay. I’ll tell you.”

I watched her chest lift and then drop as she sucked in and released a deep breath. Her dark eyes met mine and it was all I could do to stop myself kissing her again. It wouldn’t have been a bad thing, of course, but I didn’t want to prevent her from saying what she wanted, how she wanted me to punish her for sending her little fingers somewhere they never should have strayed. I could scarcely wait for her to say it so I could get my hands on her perfect body and set us both on the path to utter bliss.

“Yes, oh yes!” The words tumbled from her sweet lips, almost tripping over one another in their eagerness to get out. It was that eagerness that had my cock pressing excitedly against the crotch of my trousers. I could hardly believe she was here. Not just with me, but in a BDSM club, watching people slap and fuck. The best part was that she was enjoying herself, getting turned on. I could tell from the little wiggles she was doing in her seat and the way her fingers gripped mine, twitching slightly every time the woman in the purple corset landed a blow on her man’s arse. It was time for Marie’s second lesson in submission.

Offer me her body completely? It didn’t mean she was submissive, of course. It just meant she liked pain with her pleasure and was confident enough in herself as a sexual woman to admit it.

Damn, that was attractive.

But something, some instinct based in the darkest, kinkiest side of me, told me that there was more to it than that. And I was determined to coax it out of her, to help her to explore her full potential. Whatever that may be.
I suddenly became aware of the silence in the room and realized that I hadn’t said anything in response to her confession.

I knew she’d fucking liked it. I’d known all along—her body couldn’t lie—but the fact she’d admitted it first to herself and now to me was progress. It didn’t mean, of course, that she’d throw herself to her knees in front of me and call me Master, but I hoped it meant she was up for some exploration. With me. At least I hoped with me and not bloody Peter, not that he gave off any signs of being anything other than vanilla, but hey, most guys could be persuaded.

No, it had to be me, and she obviously trusted me to have confessed that much. And I desperately wanted that trust to extend further—for her to allow me to help her to delve into the side of her that had secretly enjoyed the pain and to see how far that side went. Could she trust me with that pleasure?