If You Were- Part 1

I have an outfit picked out for you- black leather skirt with a zipper that runs all the way from top to bottom, black bra and panties- raw silk and lace, a thick black garter belt and stockings with a seam up the back; a deep indigo blouse that buttons up the front, shimmery and soft, cool like water on your skin; a black collar with the word SLUT engraved on it and some black leather boots with stupidly high heels (don’t worry, you won’t have to walk far in them). Everything is snug, but movable enough that I can pull them out of the way without taking them off... until I’m ready.

All of this is laid out on the bed when I bring you into the room. I leave you standing just inside the door for now while I make you a drink. I like how nervous you are. Your eyes keep darting to the clothes on the bed, then to me when you think I'm not looking, but I see every move you make. You glance nervously at the center of the room, at what's hanging there. Your eyes linger there for a minute as you lick your lips, unaware that you're doing it, unaware of how obvious the desire is in your eyes, under the nervousness as you thank me for the drink I hold out just a little out of your reach, so you have to lean in to take it.


We make small talk, I ask you if the room is warm enough. You shift your weight from foot to foot and smile. I can almost hear you wondering if you should've come here. The drink goes down too fast and I make the next one weaker so you aren't too tipsy. I want you all there for me later. You haven't asked to sit yet, not sure of protocol, or even if there is protocol. I wonder if you think you might still have a chance to leave if you decided you've changed your mind. This makes me smile.


You look a little startled when I ask you to change into the clothes on the bed. "What....here?" you say, your eyes going wide, your body a little rigid. Of course, I tell you. I ask you if you mind. There's just the slightest pause before you chuckle, your hand shaky as you move to set down your glass and you say, "of course not. If that's what you want...." Your voice trails off and when I don't say anything, but just stand there waiting, you move to the bed and touch each piece lightly. "They're all the right size," you say with raised eyebrows. I ask you if you're surprised and you laugh lightly, give a little shake of your head.


You turn your body away from me and begin to undress, but I stop you with a word. Softly, I suggest you turn towards me so I can watch every step of the process. You freeze a little, but then, with an effort, you slowly turn to face me, your hands held in front of you as though you were already naked. I step closer to you, put my hand softly on your cheek and turn your face to mine, looking directly into your eyes. It's the lightest of touches- my skin on yours, but you shiver and this pleases me. You raise your eyes to mine and I'm smiling that pleasure, looking deep into your eyes. I take a deep breath and feel you begin to breath with me as your body softens and you give me a trembling smile back. Not a word has passed, but the dialogue is heady.


I look at the clothes on the bed and you step back, so I can see all of you. You're still trembling a little, but you seem more present now, more sure. You pull the shirt off over your head almost defiantly, keeping your eyes on my face as much as possible. You reach down and unzip your jeans...slowly...tantalizingly. I can't take my eyes off your hips, your crotch, the mound there and my breath catches as you lower them and your underwear in one swift, determined movement. They pool at your feet and you step out of them, kicking them away from you. I look up to your face again, feeling a little flushed and now you're smiling wider, easier. You reach for the pieces of clothing on the bed and start to put them on, which is somehow even more seductive than watching you get naked. Panties slide up over your smooth thighs, garter belt snapped around the curve of your waist, then the bra and the stockings, each foot up on the bed in turn as you roll them up over your lovely legs, taking your time to straighten the seams. I can hear the silk rasp lightly over your skin and I imagine I smell the perfume from between your legs as you raise one, then the other. I watch your trembling fingers as they fasten the garters one by one.

The blouse and the skirt- you do love to take your time with zippers, don't you? You start to sit on the bed edge to put on the boots, but I stop you with a word and lead you to the chair to sit. Your hand is soft and hot in mine, damp with a light sheen of sweet. The chemicals in that fluid soak into my skin and I can smell you now, undeniably, like a flower blossoming under a light tropic rain. You smell soft, yielding....ripe



I take a deep breath, won't look into your eyes right now for fear I will lose control. Instead, I look to the table at the side of the chair and busy myself with the makeup I've set out there on your face. You came to my door clean, a blank canvas, as I requested and now it's time for the finishing touches. I highlight and contour, paint and stain, emphasize and dramatize. Your beauty is molded and intensified under my brushes, a thin current of electricity traveling between us through my brushes as they move across your skin like a caress. Your breathing is deeper and a little faster now. I am almost caught in your eyes again and again, but somehow I continue.




Under my hands, you begin to look like someone else, like yourself in a parallel universe, yet somehow more yourself than ever. The nervousness is almost gone now and something else, some slow fire is beginning to take its place. I imagine I see a glimmer of quiet danger growing in deep in your eyes. I finish with lip stain; stain that won't smudge because as soon as I’m done, I  lean in towards your face, my lips stopping a hair's breath away from yours. You start to move towards me and I tell you to stop, to be still...a still as a shadow, as still as a winter star...and you stop, your breathing going shallow and hot. As slow as time, as slow as forever I move my lips to yours, feeling the charge build in the shrinking space between us and your breath start to catch a little. Where we meet finally, it's like honey under a noon sun. I linger, brushing softly against you and you moan a little, deep in your throat. I murmur your name, move my mouth to your ear and whisper how beautiful you are to me, how happy I am that you've given yourself to me, consented to be mine for awhile. I lightly brush my lips over your chin, your throat, your ears-  indulge myself with a gentle nip here and there. It's with some difficulty that I keep myself from biting you any harder...yet.  I pull back and gaze into your eyes. There is a soft, open look in them now that I find intensely pleasing. They tell me that I can do almost anything with you now....


With a determined effort, I pull myself away from your skin, your gaze and move to stand beneath the center of the room, below what's been waiting for you from the beginning. The  wrist cuffs suspended there draw your eyes again. And again, you lick your lips briefly without being conscious of it, I'm sure. The nervousness is back in your eyes and I understand, knowing you haven't been here before, fully understanding the excitement and fear behind the first time. My excitement is growing and I tell you to come to me. I am gently but firm. There is no question that you will come and you don't hesitate, though there is something in your eyes that wants to, I can see. But the time for that is past and we both know it. You are mine.


You rise onto those boots, those ridiculous heels that you are completely unaccustomed to wobbling a little under you. You find your balance and make your way to stand in front of me. I lean in to kiss you again, wrapping my fingers tightly in the hair at the nape of your neck, putting your face where I want it as I kiss you harder this time, hunger rising up in me, the persistent throbbing in my crotch fanning into an ache that shoots right up through my middle. Your mouth opens, surrendering to the famished crush of my lips on yours. I want to swallow you, deep into the core of me, I want to crush you where you stand, pinned between my head and hands, hanging like a martyr. If I did not hole my desire in check, I would quite possibly eat you alive.


Somehow I make myself stop and gazing straight into your eyes, I bring the collar in my hands up, placing it around your tender throat, buckling it firmly around your neck and giving it a playful tug, moving your head gently, firmly where I want to, because I can and I want us both to know it. I say the word engraved there softly- slut slut slut- a shade of a growl deep in my throat. Your eyes are a little dazed, closed part way and there isn't a hint of nervousness to you anymore. My slut. Mine, I say. Because I like the sound of it in my mouth. I like the sound of it coming out of my mouth, heavy with desire and owning, wrapping around your being like the collar fastened firmly around your lovely neck.

I tug again and move you toward the cuffs hanging in wait. You're caught off guard and stumble a little on these tortuous heels. I won't let you fall and you're almost beyond caring, drunk on the energy that's claiming us. I lower the bar and fasten the cuffs in place, your hands open and close helplessly, becoming acquainted with their futility. I raise the bar up, up until your arms are overhead, your open, dreamy face framed within them like a cloud. There are tiny beads of sweat on your upper lip and I lick them off gently, then bite at your lips slowly, sucking them into my mouth, leaving puffy red marks in a trail behind them.

(to be continued...)