Kneel

She does so, showing me her bare bum. So white, a milky white that almost seems to glow. Her bottom is round and full, plump and soft. It almost begs to be smacked. She knows what's coming. Five weeks of waiting for this moment. For her body to accept the physical, her mind to prepare. Counting down the weeks until they are days and then hours and minutes. She trembles on the floor before me, arms outstretched in supplication. My forgiveness comes from my crop. The virgin crop which will be deflowered on her bare skin. That white, milky skin that will glow and show the marks of her punishment. I know what she's thinking. How many, how hard, how long will it take? Will it be fast or slow? Will I cry? Am I strong enough to take it? Am I good enough for my Lady? Inside, I will enjoy giving the punishment. A part of me always does. That secret yearning to make her cry, make her say 'thank you' for every stroke, want her to know that she needs to be punished, accept and embrace it. I make her kneel and I smile.