To most, his belt was a boring accessory with a singular purpose. To me, it was an extension of the man — another appendage to fulfill the desires I’d kept sequestered.

My eyes never left the leather that hissed against the fabric loops as he stripped the belt from his trousers. I likened it to a snake, imagining its potent bite once quickly uncoiled. 

He knew the role of anticipation. Made me wait until I bloomed red with indescribable arousal laced with fear. 

Snap! 

My pussy spasmed when the pinpoint pain, that only he understood, blossomed across my bottom.