| Straight: BDSM: Just You and Me (1/7) |
 23 votes |
|||
Share This Story: BlinkList - del.icio.us - Furl - ma.gnolia - Spurl - Yahoo MyWeb - StumbleUpon |
||||
|
"Come here, and stand before me my sweet Firebrand." A line out of the blue, punctuated with the keyword that signals that it is a command, not a request. The moment is awkward given your frustration with homework and tests and just dealing with your hectic schedule. You are about to vocalize the protest when I repeat myself more fully, cutting off your words. "Here, now." Downstairs in the living room, half-light falling in through the closed blinds, you reluctantly step out of your seat by the dinning table and walk to where I am standing at the couch. "The rest of the day is mine. Are you ready to serve?" "But, I..." you rebut again. Stepping in close, eyes narrowing. "You are only to speak in reply through yes or no, and sir, master or m' lord. Is that understood?" You nod your agreement reluctantly, though inside your mood begins to shift to more devious ideas. "What was that?" "Yes m'lord." "Good, now stand here, turn, and put your hands on the back of the couch. Do not move until I give you permission." You take up the position with curiosity. Once I see that you're in a satisfactory stance, I go upstairs to retrieve a few things. I return with you unmoved and stand closely behind you. "You've been a bad girl with your hesitation and back-talking. For that, you will be punished." The blindfold falls over your eyes. You can hear me walk around the room. Drawing out the tension of the moment, I think I can hear you whimper for just a moment before collecting yourself once more. I finish my circuit around the room, and my voice, my breath has returned to your ear. Your breathing catches for a moment as I speak. "How do you feel my dearest? Excited, nervous, anxious?" "Yes m'lord." "But we haven't even started yet. You are a bad girl." The smirk in my voice lets you know that the play of this is exciting for me as well. You feel my fingers take hold of the bottom of your shirt. I pull it over your head and let it pool at your hands as they grip the back of the couch. Any movement on your part is admonished. "I didn't tell you to move,” and you can feel my intent. The shirt helps restrict your movement. Your skin ripples with the exposure to air, and my lips along your gorgeous neckline leaving little red teeth marks along its curve. My hands slide forward to cup and hold your full breasts feeling the weight even as they are wrapped in your bra still. Massaging your breasts in slow steady circles, then with a flick, unfasten that front clasp. Your nipples grow harder under just this simple attention. I know how you love having your breasts played with, but it's not time for that just yet. I have more plans for them in the future, so |
  |
nice writing!
