It can be sweet torture to wait. Waiting is an important skill to learn, don't you think? We wait for things every day. We wait for the light to change. We wait for a phone call. We wait for an email. We wait for a lover's touch.
You were so sweet the other night. Your skin is so soft, and you are so sensitive to my gentle touches. It was immensely gratifying to explore your body, and hear the things you were saying. Such naughty words, dear angel. I didn't think that you knew what those words meant, until you said that. And watching your face change when I chuckled at you was delicious.
Did you know that your expression changed? You're such a sweet, shy girl most of the time we're together, but that night, as I sat above you, holding you down, you were a totally different person. You squirmed as my mouth tasted your breasts. You moaned as I suckled on your nipples. And you writhed, and begged as I watched, totally focussed on what I was doing, totally focussed on what would make me keep doing it.
Did I surprise you with the collar when I came in? You were so shy when I told you to take it from my pocket. We were going out later, and I know you felt the fear that I'd tell you to wear it out to dinner. What would the other guests think? What would the waiter think? Or the taxi driver? Does the idea of being collared in public make you squirm? The idea that you're bound, and submitting to my will, and no one around you knows, make you flush, and breathe heavily? Does the fact that Vikki McKay and others are reading this make your heart pound? It was so nice of Vikki to link our letters, don't you think? Should I send her a thank you? Or should I make YOU thank her?
You tried to put the collar on yourself, but couldn't quite manage it. When I left that night, leaving the collar hanging on the post of your bed to remind you, did you try it on when you were alone? Did you try to practice putting it on yourself? Did you wear my collar and remember what it felt like to be taken and possessed by me? I know you wanted to. I know that you sat and stared at it, remembering the feel of the leather around your neck, the weight of the ring against your collarbone. You looked at it, and you remembered it, and you bit your lip with wanting.
When we were sitting at dinner, I asked you to talk about your business with me. I really want to know about you, angel. I want to know about the whole angel, not just my submissive girl. So, I let you talk, and you showed me how good you were at your profession. I asked you questions about strategy, about marketing. You were an excellent teacher, and I was impressed with your confidence, and your competence. You talked, and I listened, and you showed a totally different side of yourself.
And then, when I decided that you'd taught me enough for one evening, I just looked at you. And that shy, sweet angel came back. And you blushed, and squirmed, and started looking at your food, as I watched you. You leaned up against me in the taxi, feeling safe and cared for. And in the elevator, on the way to your apartment, when I pushed you up against the mirror, and kissed you, you moaned low in your throat, and I chuckled, knowing what you wanted, knowing how badly you needed me to touch you, and knowing that you'd be frustrated but happy by the time I left that night.
Time will come, soon enough, little one. The time will come when you will get all you were asking for. You'll get all those nasty, rude things that you were begging me for. In fact, you may get more than you were asking for. I have such a creative imagination when it comes to you.
I'm looking forward to then, my angel.
posted at 07:34 PM ::
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