Chapter Nine
I did not see or even hear the captive and his wife depart. I presume they left once the maid had seen to any further services they might require. I sat rather primly on a cream leather sofa sipping a dry martini, complete with olive, recovering my poise and listening to Lesley gush about what I had just done. I could tell that she had enjoyed watching me thrash him. She had enjoyed the actuality of watching me, her protégée, prove beyond doubt that I had what she had recognized in me. I was a natural dominatrix, or so my reaction to administering the whip implied.
She talked of clients and bondage, of living the life, of many things, Diary, I have to admit, all I could think of was the feeling of blissful power as I had cut the air with the whip. The pleasure of watching th
