Chapter 2 - The Belt

CHAPTER 2: THE BELT

The buckle clicked in Reaper's hand. Nolwazi's entire body tightened before the first stroke landed.

The belt cracked across the curve of her arse, a clean line of pain that stole the breath from her lungs. She cried into the couch cushion and jerked against the rope.

"Colour," he said immediately.

"Green." The word came out thin. "Green, but eish."

His hand rested between her shoulder blades. "You can ask me to slow down."

"Do not slow down. Just tell me how many."

There was a pause. Then his fingers stroked the wetness from her cheek. "Ten. You can take ten."

The next stroke landed lower, near the tops of her thighs. Nolwazi shouted. Reaper counted for her, not loudly, not cruelly; his steady voice gave each blow an edge and then a finish. After three, he stopped to touch the raised warmth across her skin. After five, he pushed two fingers into her and watched her body betray her with a trembling moan.

"You like being cared for by someone who will not let you be careless," he said.

"I like you being an arsehole," she managed.

His laugh was low. The sixth stroke was harder.

By eight, tears had soaked the cushion beneath her face. Her thighs shook. When instinct pulled her knees up, Reaper caught the rope at her ankles and waited until she looked at him.

"Do you need yellow?"

She wanted to say no out of stubbornness. Instead she listened to the ache in her body and the certainty in his face.

"No. Green."

"Lower your legs for me."