Math

(From a conversation with my belovèd. An episode of fantasy/story-telling, I hasten to add, not something personal.)

He carried her leather paddle, a terribly sting-producing instrument, and an embarrassing one, for the words “For A Naughty Girl” were burned into it.

The memory of the past times he had used it caused her eyes to prickle with hot tears, and she felt two escape down her cheeks.

“Is there any doubt in your mind that this is necessary and earned?” he asked. Redundantly, since their discussion had been quite thorough.

“No, Sir,” she replied, her voice choked.

“I have in mind the number of smacks you deserve in response to your behavior,” he said. “I want you, right now, to tell me how many you think you deserve.

“If your number is higher than mine, I will use it.

“If your number is equal to mine, I will use it.

“If your number is less than mine, I will double mine and add yours.

“Tell me now.”

— Frenulum