It was getting late. It was Sunday and she had to be up for work at 7:30 the following morning. They both realised precious time was slipping away and they made motions toward the bedroom. Excitement was in his eyes and she could see it sparked through his body. He knew the routine. Tied, bound and spanked. He just didn’t know how far she would go this time. Whether her will could be broken today after his wrists were released. She had spirit in her, that’s for sure. There was nothing he enjoyed more than a good tussle for control.

But that was a long way off. The here and now was what mattered most. The immediate threat of her actions. Would she favour the tassled whip? Was she to use ice? Her disappointment was tangible when she discovered the keys for the handcuffs were missing. He knew she savoured the thought of him squirming against the cold, hard metal of those rings. Leaving the marks for her to see. She was always proud when her work left evidence behind.

Securing him with the red silken ties, routine, she rustled about in the cupboard for some unknown articles. Within a minute she had found was she sought and slipped out, away from him to the next room. That was out of routine. He expected her to get on with the deed as soon as she was sure he wasn’t going anywhere fast. Hearing her movements through the walls, he was curious to her designs for the night ahead. Patience, he thought, it’s part of her act, putting me off guard like this. Making me wait. How right he was. He knew her well.

Patience surely a virtue, he was rewarded with a sight to melt the iciest, coolest of hearts. Hair flowing down around her shoulders, she stood at the foot of the bed, her arms held out at each post, a pose that showed she meant business. Wearing the pure black silk nightdress that was sorely neglected in her lingerie collection, the white trim around the neckline and hem hinting at a certain Continental nature. Paired underneath with a basque and her favourite stockings with the ribboned tops, she enhanced this theme further when she held the small feather tickler in her left hand, she certainly wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Parisian establishment of disrepute.

Your final request tonight before everything is in my hands… Speaking quietly, he wasn’t sure at first to what she was referring to until her raised eyebrow and eyes pointed towards the blindfold in her right hand. Shaking his head, he refused this option presented to him. The last for a while. Indeterminate.

Walking straight to the prepared bag of goodies at the side of the bed, she took out her instruments. The tassled whip, of course. Oils and massage bars – but would she be using them? He watched her remove each item one by one from the bag, pondering over what she would use to warm him up tonight. Not that he needed much more prep, he was already on fire.

Turning over onto his front at her orders, his beautiful, cream-skinned back was exposed to her merciless glance. She took a moment to gaze at the sight before her. Good boy, she murmured at his prompt obediance. She would reward him later, but now it was time to play.

She grasped the nearest implement, the whip, and showing no sign of giving him an easy time, she raised it high in the air, taking careful aim before bringing it hard and fast down over his smooth buttocks. The sound of impact, his reaction – the physical recoil paired with the illicited moan – that was what she lived for in these moments. She drank it in as she repeated the action once more in the exact same spot, reaffirming her position above him. Following this with a slap with her hand on the other cheek, she was lost over to her role. He saw her eyes glaze over slightly with the obvious kick she was getting as he twisted round to watch her in her element.

The flogging continued, and that was what it indeed was, a flogging. He had never had such harsh treatment from the offing of one of their sessions of this calibre. He braved it all. Over his thighs, his back, shoulders and chest. Even through her cruelty of turning on the bright light to stare at the marks she had made. Without warning, the stark, blinding electric lighting caught him off-guard after the glow of clandlelight.

He of course thanked her, profusely, for his birthday gift, his wish. Granted. She merely smiled and whispered, Good boy…