She tested the paddle against the palm of her hand. She had chosen it herself, curious if the holes in the smooth wood would leave the marks she craved so much. She had been told to wait with the paddle dressed in a way to please him.
The feel of the paddle against her skin made her squirm. She loved and hated it at the same time. The way she needed to be hurt. To earn the marks that would sustain her. The bruises that she would trace when they were apart. The marks of ownership on her body.
Even the pain she endured to get the marks was something she craved. To show him that she belonged to him and to show her devotion. Sometimes that bothered her. It conflicted with how she saw herself. Strong, independent, in control of her life.
But this is what she craved. To give up that control and become lost in her desires. To be used and cared for in equal measure. Knowing that in the end she would be filled with pride at her endurance, to admit to herself what she needed and desired. To not be the one in charge. To completely give herself over to him.
She smiled and sighed as she waited, feeling the heat between her legs begin to rise.