His
She can feel Him, seeming to tower above her From her stance on her knees, head lowered, hair shading her face.
Power rolls off Him in waves, confidence, control, Making her almost drunk as the waves crash over her.
Aching for the sting of the flogger He holds so expertly, Longing for His touch to soothe the pain...
She is seduced, claimed, His.
He stands over her, watching the fall of dark hair hiding her face, her breasts.
Does she know, can she, how beautiful she is in her submission?
He drinks in her fragrance, her essence, hand itching to release the flogger, To see the milky white skin flame when it lands, To soothe with a touch, a kiss, the sting of each lash And to see in her eyes, glossy with a sheen of tears, her adoration, her worship?
She is seduced, claimed, His.