“Then why are you laughing?” she asks, looking disappointed. “That’s disrespectful. Are you being disrespectful?” “No, Madame,” I repeat, my smile fading. Her eyes narrow as she scrutinizes me. “Should I punish you?” Something flutters low in my groin at the idea of punishment. My eyes instantly track to the crop in her hand, and I imagine what it might feel like to have it slapped across my back. I could take it, but do I want to? My dick doesn’t seem to hate the idea. That’s new.
