But I Earned it Master

Violet had swallowed every strike, every order, every hour on her knees. She knew the rules. Pleasure isn't given. It's bought in sweat and welts. When Master finally lets the black leather crop kiss the curve of her bare ass instead of crack against it, the shock of mercy burns hotter than the pain ever did. The collar sits snug at her throat, metal tag clicking each time she swallows. Her wrists burn where the rope keeps them locked behind her back. She doesn't move. She waits. Master drags the folded tip of the crop between her thighs, slow enough to make her hips twitch. One sharp tap against her clit and the ropes creak as her muscles jump. She bites her lip to keep the sound inside. He steps close, leather and sweat cutting through the air. Fingers slide under the collar, lift her chin. "You think you've earned it?" The crop lifts again, waiting. Violet's answer is barely a breath. "Yes, Master." He smiles like a man about to collect.