He wanted to show her off. Maybe being shown off only added to the primeval fulfilment she felt at being his; his to do with as he wished. In a way, she rejoiced that he thought her worth showing off.

She waited, facing the wall, still fully dressed but knowing that would soon change. She heard the chink of bottle against glass and the glug of liquid. In her mind she saw him pouring Armagnac into a cut-crystal tumbler. She felt as well as heard him sit down and sip from the glass, light one of his small cigars, watch her. She kept very still. She could feel his eyes and his cool smile. She waited eagerly for his order to take her clothes off, even though she was sure the first thing he would do would be to spank her. He did not spank her very often, but when he did the sex afterwards was always even more intense than usual.

"You were very good this evening, little one." His voice was like oiled silk.

"Thank you, Michael." She caught her breath because this was a dangerous beginning.

"But you did make a slip."

"I'm sorry, Michael."

"Do you know what you are apologising for? What your little slip was, pray tell?"

Her mind whirled. When he got silkily sardonic like now, he could become very demanding, and her punishments more testing. Once, he had made her go to the office wearing a tight jersey frock and no underwear at all, and it had been a day of excruciating leers and wolf-whistles and snide comments from the other women. She took a breath.

"I got embarrassed. In the bar, when you wanted me to lick your fingers, they were all looking!"

There was a long silence, as though he was considering her excuse. Then...

"Of course they were all looking. That is the whole point."

His voice had taken an edge now. She continued facing the wall, wondering where this was going to lead. It was different from before. Nerve-wracking different.

He did not tell her to take off her clothes and come to his bed on her knees, as he usually did at this point and as she longed for him to do. He did not make love to her and send her body wild. Instead, he told her to call a taxi and go home, and to return on Monday evening, when he intended to cane her for her lapse.

Shaken, Susan did as she was told, 'phoning for a cab and then facing the wall again while she waited for it to arrive. He did not want her! Her body, already throbbing in anticipation of the sex she ached for, became chilly. She felt goose-pimples on her back.

Her mind went blank, shying away from this new escalation in the demands of the man she adored. He was going to cane her! She gave an involuntary shudder. The first time he had spanked her had been enough of a shock, but afterwards he had fucked her so hard it drove away any semblance of pain. But that was only with the palm of his hand. Later, he had used his slipper and then a hairbrush, and that had been so painful that even the sex afterwards hardly made up for it. How much worse would a cane be!

"Oh, and don't touch yourself in the meantime," was his parting instruction. Susan knew exactly what he meant, and blushed.