After Charles had had my bottom in the disciplinary style he always used when he took it after a whipping, bestriding me and from time to time putting his hand on the back of my head to remind me I was being mastered, he took me in his arms at last and stroked my punished cheeks tenderly to let me know my session was over.
"Now, sweetheart, what did you want to tell me?"
I answered, timidly, "Sir, I think if I'm ever going to be a good girl, I need to understand my wantonness."
"That's right, darling. That's why I have you in training." . . .
For more about the "real" me, read the Companion! You'll find the rest of this post (and it's hot, I promise!) there.
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