Canvas
You are my canvas, right now and forever.
Smooth and soft, malleable and flexible, bending and bowing to my needs but respectful of yours.
In public, close and polite to each other, holding hands, gentle strokes, admiring and loving glances. Plenty of eye contact, almost accidentally brushing up against you BUT a subtle reminder of who you are and where your place is.
Beneath your clothes, the canvas tells a different and very powerful story: impressions on your skin where I have tied you, raised welts on your bottom, gorgeous pinkness on your outer and inner thighs, bruising on your bottom.
Aching and tender nipples, hard at the mere thought of me, very sensitive and pert from the clamps I Order you to wear.
Blooms and stripes of red remind you when sitting down that spankings and Resets are the norm and that they will deepen to purple, then green and yellow before fading away, before new ones are given for you to cherish.
Peeking at them in the bathroom when you are getting dry, their presence a very clear reminder of your Owned status.
You are my canvas, coloured and shaped by me alone.