My slave needs a reminder that he is mine

Restrained and bent over the bench, my slave awaits the discipline he craves. Regular reminders of his servitude keep him in line. My attire—high heels, black fishnet lingerie, stockings, and bold red lips—heightens the tension as my footsteps echo. I taunt his locked, impotent cock before turning to his backside, my target for punishment. A thick leather paddle warms him up, each strike deliberate and rhythmic. His face presses close to my perfect ass, a view meant to inspire endurance. His cries are music to my ears, every stroke turning his unmarked flesh crimson. My cruel smirk reveals my delight as his bottom burns, yet I’m far from finished—something more intense awaits.