She looked up at me uncomprehendingly for a moment, then understood. She turned her attention to my belt buckle and tried to lift her hand from my hip, only to find it still held there by my own. Again she looked up at me, but I kept my expression blank.
“Ohhh...” she breathed, realizing what I’d meant, and leaned forward to seize the end of my belt in her teeth. She worried it like a dog, literally growling with frustration as she worked the braided leather out of its confining loop and then jerked on it, throwing her head back, until the belt came free of the buckle. With a grunt of triumph, she grabbed the buckle with her mouth and tugged, pulling it part-way out, dropping it and seizing it again closer to the first loop, pulling again, over and over, until finally the belt came loose and hung from her mouth like a snake. She looked up at me, pleased with herself, smiling around her mouthful of leather.
I raised her hands from my hips and placed them gently behind her head, then placed my own hand on the side of her face and lightly stroked her temple with my thumb for a moment. “Good girl.” She sighed blissfully, content for the moment.
Then I began walking around her, slowly – taking my time, looking her over. She followed me with her eyes as much as she could but maintained her position. After I’d circled her a couple of times I stopped directly behind her. I lightly stroked her forearms as I spoke. “Do you know why I had you remove my belt, Nadine?”
She nodded, then caught herself and attempted to speak around the belt. “Yesh, shirr. You're…’oing ‘oo whi’ me, sshhir.”
“That’s right, Nadine, I’m going to whip you. And do you know why?”
“..’ecaushe I’nn a disho’e’ien’ ‘iddle shhluh’, sshhir.”
I leaned forward and kissed the top of her head, simultaneously reaching down to pinch her nipples again, gently at first, then harder, making her gasp and moan as I continued, tilting my head down to speak into her ear. “You are that, Nadine – but that’s not why I’m going to whip you. Can you tell me what the real reason is?”
Nadine moaned through the belt held in her teeth, then leaned back against my legs, raising her face to look up at me. “Yesh, sshhir.” Then: “Pleashh, shir…” She stopped and looked down, unable to continue, then forced herself to look back up at me as she continued, her voice barely audible, “I wan’ you ‘oo whi’ me, shirr.” Then she cried out, the belt falling from her mouth, “Oh, god! Please whip my ass, Sir!”
Suddenly her upper body jerked forward and she slapped the floor with both hands as she fought down another orgasm. “OH! Oh, Jesus fuck!”
I walked around and stood in front of her, waiting for her to subside. When she finally raised her tear-streaked face to mine I indicated with a peremptory gesture that she was to kneel upright again. Slowly she complied, sniffling, and placed her hands behind her head. When she was focused on me again I bent down, picked up the belt from the floor, and held it out to her. She opened her mouth to take it, but I shook my head. After a moment she lowered her arms and took the belt with both hands. She stared up at me, waiting. I said nothing. There was a long silence. Then, with eyes overflowing again she raised her arms, which were shaking, and offered the belt back to me, quavering, “W-w-will you… W-will you p-please wh…whip me, Sir?”
This time I nodded solemnly, took the belt from her, and offered my free hand to help her to her feet. When she was standing I retained her hand in mine, turned, shoved the chair aside with my foot and led her to where it had been standing… which placed her directly in front of the picture window. It was dark outside, and the square was mostly deserted, as they often are at night in small towns, even on a Friday.
Nevertheless Nadine gasped when I placed my hand at the back of her head and bent her forward until her nose was touching the glass, then placed her hand on the window, next to her head. Releasing her for a moment, I reached over her, grabbed her other arm, and placed her remaining hand on the glass as well.
Then I placed my foot between hers and roughly shoved her legs apart. She gasped again as I did so but remained in position, whimpering slightly: bent from the waist, nose, and palms pressed to the window looking out over the square, naked breasts hanging down, back arched, legs spread and ass raised.
The bottom of the marker, which was still lodged in her pussy, protruded obscenely through the crotch of her panties. I grabbed it and slow-fucked her for a while, as she squirmed and moaned. Then, when I was ready, I told her, “On your toes, Nadine.”
She obediently raised her heels from the floor. The effect was much as if she’d been wearing high heels: the muscles in her calves, thighs and behind all tightened and defined in the dim light. Even through the wet fabric of her panties, I could make out the clenched muscles of her ass cheeks, a lovely sight. I took a moment to caress her behind, slipping my thumb beneath the elastic of her panties to tug the fabric upward and tuck it between her cheeks, leaving them exposed, and the marker in her pussy even more sharply defined.
Nadine was breathing in short gasps, terror, and arousal fighting for dominance, as I stepped back and lifted the belt, doubling it over in my hand. “You will not move, Nadine,” I told her. “And you will not speak, except to thank me each time I whip your ass.”