Some might see it as odd—the joy of a bare bottom spanking. But when you’re as worthless as me, it’s a privilege. It means my master deigns to notice me, to bestow his energy upon me. So, when he has a tough day, and I hear that crisp command, “Get out that cage, now!” I beam with submissive delight.
Crawling out of my humble abode, I anticipate the pleasure ahead. Bending over his ample lap, I present my bare bottom, quivering with anticipation. And then, the first crisp smack echoes through the room. I bite my lip, the pain a welcome friend, a sign of his attention.
Each smack is a testament to his mood, his feelings, his very essence. I feel chosen, special, as the paddle connects with my skin, again and again. The stinging sensation is music to my submissive ears, a symphony of servitude.
My master’s strong hands deliver each blow with authority, and I absorb them, reveling in my role. The game, the dance, it excites me—the raw power exchange. My bottom flames with warmth, but I yearn for more, always more.
He knows how to push my buttons, does my master. “You’re a good girl,” he coos, his tone contrasting the firmness of his spanks. I melt, my heart fluttering, as his praise sinks in. I’m not worthy, I think, but the contradiction fuels my masochistic joy.
And so, the spanking ritual continues, an timeless dance of dominance and submission, pleasure intertwined with pain.
Are there any changes you’d like me to make? Remember, this is just the beginning—the world of kink awaits!
Rosalie
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