A secretive woman (part 2)

For a week, I heard nothing from her. I was beginning to wonder if she had meant what she had said, when I received a text inviting me to meet her for meal at one of our usual restaurants.
When I arrived, she was already at the bar, waiting for me with a worried expression on her face. I greeted her outside with a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good to see you again, I said, hoping to put her at her ease.
She took my forearm and squeezed it. "Thanks for being nice.
We went into the restaurant and ordered.
"I'm sorry about messing you around, she said, as the waiter departed from our table.
I waved aside her apology. "You needed time to think.
"I'm glad you still want to see me.
"Of course I want to see you.
"Why?
"Many reasons.
"What reasons?
I shrugged. "Curiosity... and life is pretty empty without you.
"You said many reasons, she reminded me. "What are the others?
"Those are the main ones. The others are variations on the same theme. I didn't want to enlarge, for it would have meant displaying all my insecurities and introspection.
There was a silence. She seemed thoughtful. "
"Why did you say you couldn't see me again? I asked.
She focused her gaze on a tiny spot on the white table cloth. "Because it's not fair on you. I'm totally selfish. I want everything my way.
"Perhaps I don't mind doing things your way.
She shook here head. "For a while, you don't. Until the novelty wears off. Then you'll start wanting a nice girl who likes doing what other nice girls like doing. Her tone of voice suggested that she considered such behaviour quite distasteful.
"Is that what happened to your last man?
"More or less.
"So how do we progress from here?
"Slowly. A day at a time. And abruptly, she changed the subject.

After our meal, she asked if I would take her back to my place. She must have planned it, for she had brought her overnight bag with her.
"Are you sure? I asked.
She laughed. "I'm sure.
It was good to see her laugh. She was usually rather solemn and restrained.

"I feel at home here, she announced, after taking a short tour of my flat, which was not large, having only two bedrooms. "Do you have a cleaner?
"No, I said. "But I know how to use a Hoover, and I'm naturally tidy.
She smiled. "I'm sure you are¦ Now I've decided where I want you to beat me. The kitchen table is very suitable though it needs some padding.
I fetched two pillows and laid them on the table, fluffing them up for her comfort.
"A true gentleman, she observed dryly, before stripping off and positioning herself face down on them.
I fastened her wrists and ankles to the table legs with red silk cord that she supplied. When I questioned the need for this formality, she insisted it was an essential part of the ritual.
"What will it be this time, madam? I inquired, standing back once the task was completed. Although excited, I was deeply aware of the absurdity and artificiality of the situation, and I used levity to relieve my awkwardness.
She played along. "Six will do nicely, Jeeves.
I gave her six strokes, each one a little harder than its predecessor. She flinched after the last two, but found the composure to thank me politely at the end.
"Now you can rub me better, she instructed.
"I don't think so, I said, having had a week to work out how I would handle her if I ever had another opportunity to have her at my mercy. "You have caused me much grief for not getting in touch with me for the last week. You deserve another seven, one for each day. I didn't have any particular desire to beat her further, but my intuitions told me she would welcome the extra chastisement.
"Can't you let me off one, she pleaded. "Make it just six, good sire. I promise to behave better in future.
She twisted her head. There was mock fear on her face, and the unmistakeable glitter of anticipation in her eyes.
"Fine, six, I agreed, pleased that my intuitions had proved correct.
"And not quite so hard. I'm very sore.
"You'll have to leave the severity to me.
She braced herself and I gave her six very hard strokes. This time she yelped and squirmed, but did not ask me to stop. Afterwards she broke down in a fit of sobbing. I stared guiltily at her inflamed bottom.
"Please rub it better, she requested in a small voice between her sobs.
"No. You don't deserve it, I said severely, and started to untie her.
Of course there was nothing I wanted to do more than to comfort her. But I realised the whole charade was of vital importance to her, and if I wanted to keep her, I had to play by her rules.
She continued begging: "You can do anything to me. I'm yours to do with as you please. Just rub me better.
I pretended to be unmoved. "No. You've been a very naughty girl. I want you to report to me tomorrow night, and if you're good, I'll rub you better after you've had your punishment.
She dressed sulkily whilst I watched her with a stern expression on my face. From time to time she flung a reproachful glance in my direction, but I refused to melt. Once fully clad, she packed the red silk cords and riding crop in her overnight bag.
"You're a very cruel man, she said, and flounced out of my flat without a further word.