He Craves the Sting of Her Rod
He waits in hush as she draws near,
Heart racing wild beneath his fear.
Her wooden rod gleams in her hand,
A promise writ by her command.
Each strike awakens something raw,
A trembling need he can’t ignore.
The echo burns along his skin,
A lesson carved from deep within.
He leans into each burning kiss,
Finding solace in her strict bliss.
The sharper pain reveals his pride,
In every blow he feels alive.
When all is done and silence falls,
He thanks her voice that softly calls.
For in her rod’s relentless song,
He’s found the place where he belongs.
He must be a lucky slave, well trained by his bossy wife for her personal pleasure and property
Thanks, Levi for the welcome. I am so happy to be part of the team. chanel.
Quite the comprehensive article about an extremely important part of discipline. The aftercare is what I call "The Reset". It…
Thanks duckie. One of these days I need to hear some of these stories you keep referencing but never share…
This is a great idea - I know I could have used this early on, and it would still make…