He made no motion and she simply stood there on display for a few moments, hands resting motionless at her sides. Her breathing quickened for surely his waiting was a sign that she would just be on display this evening and nothing more. He smiled inwardly at the sight of her breasts heaving with each deep breath she took. A small recess of her mind screamed out in frustrated desire; but she was flooded with the hope that she would meet his every expectation if all he chose to do was gaze upon her.
He issued his next wish with a casual flick of the wrist. She began to unhook the clasp of her skirt and slowly unzipped it. He had instructed her, early on in this relationship, to always move with care, with quiet contemplation. When he tapped a finger on his right hand, the skirt, too, fell to the floor and she stepped out of it, adjusting her resting stance so her legs were parted farther than the skirt had allowed. Her black lace panties and stockings with matching trim were offset by her creamy skin. Again, he simply stared, lovingly, longingly, at her body. Had she allowed herself to look at his eyes, she would have seen the hunger there.
The minutes passed. She could hear the ticking clock on the mantel but was too consumed with pleasing him to track the time. She continually fought the desire to hug her arms to her body, to hide from his gaze. He knew she struggled with such impulses and delighted in seeing her broach a tipping point of disobedience, only to pull back from the cliff and again stand motionless before him. He watched her control herself, watched her submit herself to him and was pleased. He loved seeing a tiny shiver ripple across her body as she released the tension.
She was surprised to hear him shift in his seat, for as motionless as she was often forced to be, he, too, could hold himself still. She saw him tap the toe of his right foot, which caused her to turn around. She again planted her feet apart, praying that he would reach between her legs and roughly grab her sex. Her mind focused on figuring out what that would feel like because he had never done so before; he rarely used any force upon her these days. She had willingly become his obedient display object these last few months but the prayers that he would just take her had become more fervent. He sometimes did; that made it all the more sweet when he made her wait for it. But she missed some of the force he had to exert their first few times together. She wished he would just take her hard and surrender his reserve. And at the same time, she, time and time again, was brought to the brink of orgasm just knowing that she was answering his needs by being displayed.
He snapped, twice. Responding to his unspoken direction, she bent at the waist, keeping her knees straight, hands circling her ankles. This was one pose she feared; the blood in her body was pulled in multiple directions, some rushing to her head, the rest flooding the space between her legs that was on display to him, wrapped in the delicate black lace of her panties. She was always afraid she would displease him by losing her balance; the desire to meet his every need made her wet. Knowing that she was willingly spreading her legs for his benefit only added to the growing wetness. She soon feared she would feel a bead trickle down her thigh.
He left her there, seemingly not caring how long her head was down. But he was practiced at this and did not want her passing out. It seemed an eternity to her, lost in thoughts of balance, controlling her motions, her emotions, praying he was finding her beautiful. Soon, though, he knew it was time to let her up and she saw, between her legs, his foot tap again, thudding softly against the plush carpet. She rose slowly, as he instructed her during their first sessions, being sure to keep her knees straight, arching her back as she did so.
She heard another snap, the crack breaking the stillness of the room. She turned to face him. She again cast her eyes away from his face, keeping them toward the floor but in line with his hands and feet, knowing from where his cues would come. She saw him tap a single finger on his left hand and momentarily lost herself wondering what it would feel like to have him slide the finger in her.
But she understood his command and reached behind to unclasp her bra. She let it drop to the floor, tossing it slightly aside. She raised her hands and clasped them behind her back, resting her wrists in the small of her back, fully aware of his unspoken command that when her breasts were uncovered, her arms were to be bound by her own volition. He allowed her the freedom of choosing the method; tonight she interpreted his signals that she would be on display for a long while and so bound her arms in such a way that she would be successful in maintaining her stillness.
He made a slight twirl with one upraised finger and she slowly circled around, knowing that he could see all of her, the slope of her breast, the curve of her hip, the way her breasts rose as she started to breathe more quickly, the roundness of her derrière, the arc of her back, the shape of her calf still shrouded in her stockings. She stopped suddenly upon hearing his snap, her back once again to him.
