A Submissive Remembers

It didn’t matter what the exact pose was. Every time I bent over in yoga class, the memories came rushing back. Being outside on the park grass — knowing that others could see me — only intensified the memory of my humiliation.

Once, the flashbacks were so vivid that I noticed myself becoming wet.

His eyes on me. The sound of his belt unbuckling, and pulling through his pant loops. The fear that my punishment might finally be more than I could bear. The humiliation of knowing that my naked butt was on full display, and completely at his disposal.