He stands behind her, reaching out to drag long, daring fingers through her silky tresses. Down the velvet arch of her back then up again, into her locks, tugging her sharply against him.

“Five,” he growls against her ear, before pressing her forward, bent over the mattress, molding her to his will.

His belt is folded and she hears the wicked snap of him pulling it tight in his grasp. His fingers glide over the soft, round curve of her bottom before he steps back to his task.

The first strike lands and the heat is immediate and intense. A sensation she’d dreamed of, a pain she’d longed for, and despite the whimper which escapes her throat, she instantly wants more.

The second blow is lower and even harder than the first, but the groan which bubbles from her chest is filled with the depth of her desire, not to quit, but to endure all that he might offer.

The discomfort of the third causes her to cry out, softly. He wonders at her desire for this pain, and what it does to her. A question that would have to be answered, eventually. She would have to make him understand.

The fourth stings and sends jolts through her core. How could she ever explain? The little girl in her has no words to describe her need for this. And the masochist within is mute from a lifetime of hiding.

The final hit is fast, biting her skin with enough intensity to leave a mark, and she exhales in pants, wishing for more but knowing that it would be too much.

His hands smooth over her hot flesh before guiding her to stand and back into him. He strokes her hair and nuzzles her neck as she catches her breath.

When he turns her in his arms and kisses her deeply, she feels his arousal against her belly and loses herself in him.

As his kiss turns wild and animalistic, it is all she can do to remain upright, her knees threaten to fail, her mind threatens to part.

His fingers search and explore her body expertly. He knows each and every tiny place that is secretly and amazingly linked to her core. And tortures her in the most delicious, teasing game, before they find their home deep within her.

“Please…,” she whimpers as he pulls his lips from hers.

He slips his fingers from her and traces her lips with her own liquid lust. “You got what you wanted, what are you begging for?”

She looks deep in his pale eyes and is frozen within his gaze. She did get what she wanted…

She’d begged and pleaded for that which she believed she needed. She’d forced her thoughts on him, she’d pushed him to conform to her needs.

Sinking to her knees before him, she gazes up at him. “Please, accept my submission.

“Use me, as I have used you. To fulfill your deepest desires. To satiate whatever craving lies buried beyond your limits. To satisfy the beast you keep hidden so extraordinarily well that most don’t even recognize he’s there.”

His eyes are unreadable, his expression giving no insight into his thoughts. Only after staring at her for far too long does he sit on the bed and pull her up into his lap.

Wrapping himself around her and burying his face in her hair, he sighs. “Let go. Submit to my love, wife. I need you like I need air. But I could never do this to you without you asking me for it explicitly. I will play the part, at your direction, but I will not… cannot… bend you to my will. Let go of the picture of who you want me to be and accept me for who I am. Submit to my love, not to my will.”

His refusal hangs in the air. But she clings to him and he to her. The heat he’d burned into her cheeks is fading, and her heart races against his as she absorbs the desperation of his grip.

She tries to pull away, but he doesn’t let her. And as she replays his words in her mind, over and over, she does let go.

She allows those five blows to clean the slate. To wipe away all of her expectations. To create a new plan and path.

One which she will forge and guide them on… quietly… by a leash around her throat. 

She will submit. To his love.

And to his ever-present desire for her to lead.

She takes his hand, pushing it across her body then up to wrap his fingers around her neck.

“I’ll let go… if you don’t.”