She walks over to me and sits down on the leather bench in front of me. She bends down to open the zippers of her boots without breaking the gaze into my eyes in the most lucious way I have ever seen.
Afterwards, she gets back up and kicks off her boots. She stands between my legs, her head slightly tilted. Her eyes look down for the briefest of moments.
“You know I told you to undress yourself,” I say.
“Uh-hum,” she says, grinning. Waiting. Knowing.
I lean forward and slide my hands over her wonderful hips. The trousers fall down, and I follow them with my hands. She made me bow for her. She might not be experienced, but she owns the natural gift of submission, with a sprinkle of bratty behaviour. The exact right amount of it.
My fingers trail over the inside of her legs, and she shivers slightly. I gaze up into her eyes as I kiss over her thigh up to her lower abdomen. Her hands slide over it for protection.
"One day, you will understand that your body is this ravishing piece of art that is a masterpiece to the right onlooker,” I say. "Remove your hands."
Her hands fall to her sides and I grasp her belly with my hands—a feeling I imagine heaven to be like surges through my body.
Her eyes flicker as I kiss over her belly down to her pubic area to pull down her underwear.
Then I lean back.
She reaches back and opens her bra.
It falls onto the ground.
“Undressed,” she says. “Now what?”
My mouth curves dangerously.
“Now you get on your knees and crawl over to the bed, kneel in front of it with your back to me, eyes on the floor.”
She sinks to her knees and leans forward on her hands.
She crawls over and does as told. My eyes follow her as she is the good girl she is. My core flutters solely from the looks and burns as I imagine my palm spanking that wonderful arse of hers.
I let her get accustomed to the kneeling.
When she has found her position, I rise and walk over to the drawers by the door.
I get chains, leather cuffs for wrists and ankles, a spreader bar, a blindfold and a gag.
I drop everything loudly next to her. She flinches, as supposed to.
“Get up,” I say.
When she stands, I take each of her wrists and fix a leather handcuff to it.
“What are your safewords?” I ask.
“Soft limit, Goblin. Hard limit, Dragon,” she says.
“I am testing your boundaries today,” I say. “Use them.”
“Yes, Mistress,” she says—words that caress my desire like silk.
I am close to skipping the part and taking her immediately, but it's the restraint that brings the fun, after all.
I blindfold her and glide my hands over her back.
Smack.
