I am kneeling in front of him, my eyes lowered to the floor, his boots reflect the pale light.
He is motionless ... his breathing calm and regular ... but nevertheless I sense his strain.
The leather in his hand fanning slowly back and forth.
I sense something is different ... I suppress my wish to reach out towards him and to touch him, to feel his closeness. His eyes look cold and expressionless above me, starring right through my flesh.
Time trickles; no motion; my knees hurt.
I feel his hand on my neck, he pulls me close, my skin rubs over the coarse fabric of his jeans, a soft rush of warmth runs through my body.
I perceive a fast movement and feel the leather digging deep into my flesh ... a wave of pain rushes through my body.
It's like a moment of liberation ... pain mixes with relief ... I hear myself squeeling as the whip caresses me again.
His eyes sparkle ... I feel his power ... every stroke increases my will to comply to him ...
The lashes become harder ... my desire grows ... how far will he go?
My backside burns like fire ... Is this punishment?..... Is this love? ... Who gave him the right? ...
Am I the one who gives him the power? Is it my gift to him, or does he take it?
I start to resist ... I press back against his hand which holds me so carefully yet so mercilessly...
He loosens his grip, I fall backwards ... look into his eyes ...
yes, it is my gift to him that gives him the power, my submission, my love.
I lower my head and completely devote myself to him.
His pleasure will be my reward.
