Cuffed and collared, naked and vulnerable, she kneels and waits. With his hands and voice he caresses her, controls her. Soft fingers stroke her spine, her thighs, slip into her mouth and press down on her tongue. Unbidden, she leans forward until her face almost touches the carpet, and kisses his feet.
While she is blindfolded his touch creates a world of sensation. Her mouth is dry, perhaps from crying out, and he lifts a glass to her lips and gives her water. She kneels at his feet and he tells her to open her legs - wider - wider. She obeys. He squeezes her nipples and her breasts, wraps a cool hand around her throat.
She feels the riding crop playing over her skin. With one hand at her neck and the tip of the crop tormenting her breasts, she is suspended between trust and doubt, safety and fear. Pleasure and pain.
He arranges her on hands and knees and uses her as a footstool, raises the glass to his own lips. Weight of his feet resting in the small of her back; breathing in and out, concentrating on posture, poise, stillness. Back arched, bottom raised. When she feels the crop land sharply across her upturned buttocks she cries out. She flinches, she can't help it, but as soon as she realises it she arches her back again. Her bottom feels exposed, sensitive. The position is not easy to maintain as he whips her, but she does her best.
Later he takes pity on her, stands her up and bends her over the chair. Now she can bury her face in her arms and surrender to the strokes, shock after shock of stinging heat that leaves her bottom feeling sensitive and swollen.
Textures and sensations: the soft warmth of a leather belt around her throat, tightening until lights flash and the world spins. He guides her like that, moving her by the neck until her body is where he wants it. He does not need to use words to tell her she is his. Serene in her surrender, she lets him direct her, trusting that whatever she does, she will be safe with him. He plays her body like an instrument. Even the pain, when it comes, is a treasured gift, a sign of love.
Cool hands soothe and squeeze her throbbing skin; their kisses are heated. She kneels to present her bottom again, offering herself to the belt, and he paints her cheeks red.
Photography: Matt Christie