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I see you kneeling there.

Gingerly holding a rope.

Your eyes are begging.

Begging to be given a task.

Inviting pain.

Inviting pleasure.

You ask me to take your clothes from you.

I tell you the undress yourself instead.

As you do, I touch.

And squeeze.

And pinch.

You quiver and begin to breathe hard.

Breathing hard gives way to panting as I cinch a collar around your neck.

A snug collar that has so many promising loops.

Multiple enticing rings.

How fortunate that you brought a rope.

How convenient that just two simple ties.

And well-placed knots can secure you in such a prone position.

Your tender breasts jutting out before you.

Covered in goose bumps.

From the cold?

Or from anticipation?

Hoping to be caressed.

Slapped.

Squeezed.

Paid attention to.

I touch them.

But just long enough to flirt.

Before walking away.

Leaving you whimpering.

Asking me to come back.

Asking me to cum.

To let you cum.

I return.

You don’t know it.

But you can feel it.

The cold metal end of my crop.

Pushing you over.

Sliding over you and the ropes.

A few changes to the knots.

And you are still bent over.

Ass to the air.

Clenching and relaxing.

Waiting for what is about to come.

For the soft slow rhythm of my strokes.

As they crescendo.

And ease off.

To crescendo again.

Leaving a perfect hue of red.

Delicious redness.

A seductive blush.

Hot to the touch.

Of my lips.

A soft nibble.

And there is no question of what I want next.

A moan escapes as I slip into you.

Your eyes wide.

I pull me into you.

I pull you into me.

My hands on your back.

Droplets of blood form.

Where my nails dig in.

Stinging as they dry.

Stinging again as I walk you into the wetness of a shower.

Washing off the blood.

The sweat.

The juices.

Good girl.

Good girl.