My Master still doesn’t speak. I don’t look up. “Master?”

“You waited until Michael was not here?”

“Yes, Master.”

Again, a long silence, then, “Charlotte, go up to the bedroom.”

I rise and go upstairs, keeping my head bowed. He follows me.

“Bend over the end of the bed.”

I bow down, my breath fluttering, heart thumping. I flatten myself against the counterpane, stretching out my arms, spreading my ankles.

“Raise your hips.”

I arch my spine, presenting myself.

My Master stalks through the room, searching for something. From my awkward view, I see him as he finds it: a belt. Thick leather, almost three inches wide, with a wide brass buckle. He snaps it against the wall with a crack, and I flinch.

“You’re trembling.”

“Sorry, Master.”

“You’re afraid?”

I swallow hard. “A little, yes, Master.”

“Of me? Of what I’m going to do?”

“Yes.” My voice is a whisper.

“You still want to do this?”

“If it makes it right between us, yes, I want to do this.”

“Open your mouth.”

I part my lips, and he pushes something between, a tie I think. “Between your teeth. I don’t want you biting your tongue.”

Heart drumming against my chest, I bite down hard. My head sideways down on the bed, I see my Master test the belt again, against the wall. It whiplashes against the plaster, leaving marks in the paintwork, and I wince, quailing inside, but I don’t move. I must endure this if I am to have my Master return to me.

He moves behind me. “Charlotte, firstly, whatever you say, you did lie to me, by omission at least. Secondly, I asked you…. I asked you, to tell me about what had happened to you when we were out on the site. You said you would, but you didn’t. Thirdly, when Haswell asked you, you told him immediately. Three things Charlotte. Three things. None of them had to happen. Do you want to say anything?”

I mumble through my stuffed mouth. “No, Master.”

“Three things. Two strokes for each one.”

I nod. Trembling violently now, I bite down hard…. and wait.

The leather thrumms through the air, and I inhale sharply, waiting for the strike, the pain. The belt smacks into the timber of the bed frame with a loud thwack, and I start violently at the brutal sound, the rocking of the bed.

But I am untouched.

Shaking, I hold my position, waiting….

There is another crack and another.copy right hot novel pub