Arethusa has been spanked long and hard over his knee, on her bottom and the backs of her thighs. Not for any fault; just for the sensuality and the emotion of it. Now she waits obediently while her Master takes a break. She stands as he told her, between the two doors that emphasise the different ways they can go, now.
The next stage will bring sharper pain than his hand; she knows that. But she doesn’t know which implement she should be preparing herself for. It will hurt, heat and mark her: that’s all she knows. In the last stage he will take her, but she doesn’t know which part of her body he will use. She’s not even sure which she hopes for. There’s something sweet about it not being her choice.
Doors are choices. They open into the future. But a submissive doesn’t choose which door opens. Arethusa waits.