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might be, deep inside. When the pink began to turn red, he paused. Victoria gave a little sigh and even seemed to thrust her bottom up at him a tiny bit, as though in a silent plea for more.
    He reached to his belt buckle. Seeing it, Victoria gave a little whimper.
    “Please…” she said, “not too hard, Mr. MacGregor.” A very different note had come into her voice. That note was very well known to Ross, but he couldn’t help feeling even more surprised to hear it in Victoria Mason’s words. A hint of littleness had entered her demeanor, and thus also their dynamic—not only could he hear the sound of the scared little girl in the way she spoke to him, but her face had set itself in a sweet, penitent expression that seemed to him utterly foreign from the hard journalistic set of her eyes and her chin when she had first entered under his roof just an hour before.
    “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he said. “I won’t whip you hard unless you’ve done somethin’ very wrong. As far as I’m concerned, we’re just makin’ sure we understand each other tonight. And it’s your very first whippin’, I know.”
    She sniffled in response and gave a little nod. Ross had his belt off now, and he doubled it in his hand, taking hold of the buckle and wrapping the leather around his fist to produce the foot-long strap with which he would punish Victoria, the same way he had punished littles so many times. For Ross, a belt whipping was less personal than a spanking with hand or with hairbrush, but also more paternal and old-fashioned. It was definitely very well-suited to helping Victoria understand what to expect in his house.
    Just as important, it kept Ross’ hands off her backside, something Ross felt to be a very good idea, since that backside had made him hard as a rock when Victoria had revealed it. Not that he hadn’t been hard when he’d had to struggle against her to get her down over the bed, and when for a brief moment his fingers had been inside her waistband and he had felt her tender skin and even, he thought, a crinkly hair that might have escaped her panties. He should simply acknowledge it, at least to himself: Victoria Mason turned him on more than any woman had in years—maybe ever.
    All the more reason not to spank her with his open hand, the way that he had always used with Sally Mae, after she had taken off all her clothes so that after he spanked her he could have bedroom time with her, here in this little pink bed.
    Victoria seemed to notice him taking his time sorting through these things, and a quizzical expression came into her eyes for a moment. Ross lifted his head slightly, the way he did when he wanted to set things aside in his head for later, and said, “Alright, darlin’, I’m gonna whip you twenty times now.” He leaned down and put his left hand on the small of her back, covered in the pretty light blue cotton top.
    Victoria made a fearful sound in her throat, and her lips pursed in a little moue that for a moment seemed to Ross very dangerous to his peace of mind. Could she be a little, somewhere deep inside? Maybe he would find out, he supposed, but it seemed a stretch.
    He brought the belt down with a sharp crack, right at the lowest part of her bottom, where her pretty cheeks rounded out most. He wouldn’t whip her hard, but she did need to know that when he whipped her, it would hurt.
    “Oh!” Victoria cried, more surprised than hurt, but then she said, “Ow! Ow!” as Ross kept up the quick steady rhythm he always used, striking five times in the same spot and then moving to the right cheek, then the left.
    “Oh, please… ow! Mr. MacGregor… please…” Victoria panted as she held tightly onto the same pillow that Sally Mae had always held during her spankings. Ross had to admit that it was nice to see it in use again—and even nicer to see Victoria taking comfort from its softness.
    He returned to the middle of her bottom as the curls of red began to appear there,