Please

I watch, as you pull the black leather belt through the loops on your pants. You do it slowly, as if you're trying to torment me with it. Your eyes are on me, looking down at the way you have me arranged on the floor in front of you, my hands and knees against the carpet, my ass in the air.
When the last bit of leather has come through the last loop, you dangle the simple leather accesory in front of me, the tip of it brushing against my cheek, and then my lips.
"You know why." You say quietly.
"Yes."
"Will this correct the problem?"
"Yes."
You laugh. "We'll see."
You begin to walk around me, trailing the leather belt teasingly against my naked back. I shiver. Anticipation? Sensation? Fear? Do I know? Or do you care?
The leather leaves my back, and I hear how you must have doubled it, and then popped it. It makes me jump, and whimper, and I know without turning my head that that makes you smile.
"Why not my hand?"
I'm not sure how to answer this. I'm not sure if I am physically able to answer this. But I try. "Because I am being punished."
"Do you deserve to be punished?"
I close my eyes and lower my head toward the floor, my cheeks flushed. "That is up to you to say."
"Very good." The leather drifts lightly across my ass, and I shiver again. "I say that you do. And I believe you'll thank me for this later."
"If it pleases you."
"It will." The belt leaves my skin, and I tense, anticipating. "What pleases me even more is that this is all it takes to get you to behave properly." The air moves, and I hear the leather cut through it. "Please me again."