The red tip of the cigar glowed bright red and orange in the unlit room. The night sky provided the occasional streak of a lightning flash. The ominous rumble of thunder seemed to emanate from deep within the room’s only occupant. Another flash revealed a circular bed as the centerpiece of the space. The dimmed moonlight and brilliant but brief displays of illumination from Mother Nature were not enough for her to fully process the scene before her. The deliciousness of that thought engaged her brain and started a matching physical reaction.
“Time.”
Her musings were interrupted by a single syllable. Her eyes immediately glanced at the understated yet elegant timepiece she wore. It had been one of the first presents she had received from him. Where she viewed time as relative, he saw it as another tool that created order in his world. As the son of a former military officer, punctuality was always the order of the day. He believed his tech company’s success was in due part to his innate and impeccable sense of timing.
She cleared her throat as she started to speak and was surprised at how quickly and silently he moved to stand before her. He kept his eyes locked into hers as he raised her hand slowly. The brush of his lips along the inside of her wrist sent jolts of needle-like sensations coursing from the spot of origin throughout the nether regions of her body. As he slowly lowered her hand, his gaze never wavering from hers, he stated, “You’re late.”
She knew that. Unconsciously she also knew that the warring sides of her personality – dominant and submissive – were resistant to his insistence on precision-like punctuality.
She also knew he observed this silent struggle she was engaged in with herself by the amused glint she could see in his eyes as the lightening flashed once more followed by the thunder’s sonic boom. She remained silent. The hand that still held hers in its grasp was deceptively gentle, his thumb lightly stroking the fluttering pulse which was becoming more and more pronounced with each of pass of his thumb.
“Come”, he commanded suddenly, releasing her hand and turning so quickly that she felt a cold rush of air that tightened her nipples. At least that’s what she told herself as she followed the source of the fire that had been ignited in her belly. She was His now as always, ready to be at His command.
As she walked she shed the outer coat she still wore. Underneath it she was dressed in a beautiful blue concoction of leather and silk. The coat had been specially designed to detach from the bodice of the suit. The inner wear was a sleeveless, one piece number that narrowed into shorts, very low-cut and fitting ones. He loved to view her legs from any angle. Fishnet stockings were finished off with a pair of stiletto heels in a complementary color of blue with silver, diamonique heels.
She felt sexy when he dressed her. She loved the attention to detail that he showed in everything he presented her to wear. She loved sliding into each creation knowing that every detail of the evening ahead would be well thought out by him for the mutual pleasure of them both. The other part of the seduction was the secrecy of the dual life she led. No one would believe that the always cool, calm, and collected attorney wore a waist chain and a Yoni egg beneath her designer skirt and pant suits. No one would suspect the deliciously sore sensations she experienced after a night’s scene at the Wolf’s Den…
Her inner thoughts were again interrupted by the cycle of light and sound that He seemed to use to command her attention this night. She smiled at the thought that even the weather seemed to be under His command.
“Yes, Kitten?” he queried, expectancy in his tone. He was gauging her response to the elaborate scene before her.
She stood transfixed as he moved quickly and surely to flick the tiny light switches on the sides of the miniature tealight candles that surrounded the perimeter of the bed, which was itself a centerpiece of gauze and silk situated upon a raised dais. The back panel of the bed was mirrored, reflecting the scene before them. He watched her from the mirror. Her eyes became trapped within the intensity of his gaze. She could feel his desire for her. It warmed her on the inside as she dropped her gaze out of emotion and submission. She took a step up on the platform and turned to face him. She enjoyed the slow caress that was his gaze as he took in every detail: the hair, make up, clothing, hose, shoes, even her scent- all pre-planned for his satisfaction.
“Thank you, Sir.” Her words drew a slight hiss of air from Him in response. Inwardly she smiled. Although it was He who was Dominant, she still found power in her submission. He needed it as much as she craved his power over her. His need for her submission was His weakness, and the aggressive side of her nature never failed to record this fact like a juicy secret between lovers. It made her even wetter.
“Show me”, he commanded.
She lifted her left foot slowly in a delicate balancing act and removed the shoe before placing it on the floor. She repeated the action with the right shoe, taking the time to place it carefully beside its mate. It was always about order and ritual with Him. She lifted her arms behind her neck and unzipped half way, shimmying slowly the rest of the way out of the one piece outfit. Beneath it she wore matching bra and panties, the black lace of the panties accentuating the creamy fullness of her ass. It would look even more delicious later withred welts upon it she thought as she stepped back down and kneeled before him. Her eyes were level with his crotch, and she could see the thickness of him straining against the material of his dress pants. As if on cue her mouth watered at the thought of him in her mouth. She swallowed.
“Look at me”. His hand stroked her face softly. She lifted her eyes as commanded.
“Fuck me eyes. That’s what you have. Would you like to be fucked, kitten?”
“Yes,” came her whispered response.
notesinthekeyofelle 