"Missy? Is that the best you can do? Tsk, tsk. Afraid of hurting your hand maybe? You're sure not hurting me."

It was like a challenge. Gritting my teeth, I took aim and swung again – with better results this time, a resounding swat that must have caught her unprepared and off balance; her body jerked and then swayed as one knee weakened and bent deeper than the other. The sway changed direction an instant later as she struggled to regain her poise, but I didn't give her much chance after that, pounding away mightily with little regard for rhythm or accuracy and doing it for my own sake now rather than hers. Doing it because I liked the sensation, the heated contact, the fleshy softness, the smarting in my palm that could only betoken a far worse sting wherever it struck. I liked the way she was swaying back and forth, too, shifting her weight from knee to knee with a jerk and a twitch and a ripple of flesh, all spontaneous, out of control, responding only to the force of my hand, my small but apparently powerful hand; oh shit, was there ever such a sensation?

Her moans and groans finally bringing me to my senses, a kind of vague the midst of chaos. This was my first taste of power; couldn't I do something with it, something beyond its enjoyment alone? Surely there was some hidden potential here, a gain, a profit, a longer lasting benefit; in my moment of strength, couldn't I take advantage of her moment of weakness? But of course! She had bared her body but left herself veiled in mystery, and now it was time to bare a few hidden secrets.

"Bernadette?"

"Oooh… darling…"

"I spank good, huh? Listen, you naughty girl. As long as you're so worried about your conscience bothering you…"

"Hmm? What?"

"About tonight. When you scolded me for spying on you. How did you know that, how did you know I was poking around in your dresser drawers? You been laying traps for me? What are you, a lady detective like on television?"