She lies on the bed, bound and blindfolded.
There is music playing softly, loud enough to muffle the rifling of the war bag, but not loud enough to hide the click of the camera.
He is out there, taking pictures of her exposed body, the parts of her she hides from the world.
The thighs that are fatter than she likes.
The stretch marked stomach that is evidence she has given birth to children.
The breasts that are smaller than she always dreamt of having.
The scars from surgeries to correct her health.
Every mark and blemish on her body is in full view of Him and His camera.
If He was any other man, she would be feeling humiliated.
Humiliated and exposed.
Dirty and degraded.
Used and abused.
And yet... with Him, she feels loved.
The clicking stops.
His hands touch her body instead of the camera.
His fingers touch her, open her, expose her to His view.
He can see inside her, see the place His cock goes, His tongue goes, and His fingers enter.
He holds her open, using various toys on her clit. Playing with immeasurable patience. Taking His time, gauging her every reaction, seeing which affects her more.
She struggles mentally between the desire to relax and enjoy His ministrations, and the desire to hide from Him. The teachings of believing having someone do this to you is dirty and wrong. Her body knows which desire overrides the other. The wetness He sees tells Him that this turns her on.
He knows every inch of her body.
He has touched and played, teased and tortured.
The things they do may seem humiliating to some.
The names He calls her are not those acceptable in a public forum.
The things they do are not those her mother 'talked' to her about, prepared her for.
And yet....each and every thing they do, each and every name He calls her, each and every time He touches her, she loves Him more.