A change in energy,
vibrant promise filling the air.
His hand on my bottom, tenderly
for a moment, then not there.
His hand no longer gentle,
my bottom turn warm and red.
He spanked me again until…
“Nothing to see here,” he said.
The sting… I want to move, I moan.
He held my hand, “stand still!”
I smile, his dominance, well-known;
bending myself, happily, to his will.
After a ‘drought’ of far too long, something changed. It started with the playful pinching of my nipples the one night, and continued to an unexpected spanking (and more) the next.
It was only when I took the photos of a rope challenge that I realized Master T had left my bottom marked. No spectacular marks like I had in the past, but those pin-prick bruises had me on cloud nine all day long!