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Buddy's discarded shirt and trousers. Crouching, she reached for it. |
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'No way, babe,' Buddy said. |
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Ignoring him, she clutched a corner of green fabric and pulled it toward her. |
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Buddy flicked his towel at her. There was a quiet whap, and the damp end of it stung Maureen's shoulder. Wincing, she grabbed her hurt. |
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'I'm the master,' he said. 'You're the slave. This is my whip.' He swung the towel beside his leg, the circular motion winding the towel around itself. 'Would you like another taste of the lash?' |
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Maureen shook her head. She stood up, leaving her dress on the floor. |
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'Excellent.' Turning sideways, he stretched the towel between his hands and twisted it. 'You're an excellent wench. I'm growing very fond of you.' And he snapped the towel at her again. It unfurled, striking toward her right breast. Lurching backward, Maureen jerked her arm up. The moist tip lashed her forearm. |
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She almost reached out to snatch the towel from his hand, but stopped herself. |
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He's the master, she thought. I'm the slave. |
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'You don't have to hit me with that,' she told him. 'Just tell me what you want. OK? I'll do whatever you want.' |
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His smile widened. 'Right now, I want to eat. Into the bedroom with you.' |
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Maureen turned to the door. She opened it. The towel smacked her rump. Her throat tightened. |
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