Her sense of excitement and foreboding was immediate as she kicked the door shut with her heel. Shades pulled down and curtains drawn over the windows. Every light off. The room black as pitch and the click of the latch as the door shut was the sound of the dungeon door. Her Master lurked in the dark and it was his style, his pleasure to watch her anticipation grow, her nervousness as she stood in the dark.
"Master???" Inquisitive ~ almost uncertain. Groceries carelessly placed on the counter as she glances around. Her anticipation grows, her nervousness. Even thought she knows him well, until she feels his touch, until she hears his voice, until she has the reassuring knowledge that it is indeed her Master lurking in the dark... her body trembles with excited nervousness. "Master...???" Almost a whimper. Begging for reassurance. Feeling a bit of fear, and still, even with the fear, her nipples stiffen... her cunt contracts.
"Close your eyes, whore." The words fall on her ears with both relief and trepidation. Indeed, it was her Master... the demon in the dark, but, his voice... deliciously evil. Almost a whisper yet it carried a tone of complete confidence in her obedience, and even as she swung her head in the direction of the voice, she dutifully clamps her eyes shut and gulps a breath.
It seemed like hours. No movement, no sound, but she can feel the unhurried eyes on her. The slitted eyes of a cat preparing to pounce... silently tensing muscles... vision riveted. The hypnotic tension freezing her in place…motionless except for a quiver in her stomach and a slight sway. The dark of the room and the blackness behind her closed eyes challenge her balance. A light dizziness accelerated by the anticipation.
"Steady yourself, whore." Her body jerks in surprise... the voice whispering only inches from her ear. As stealthy as a shadow he had slinked to her side and been standing there, and now her heart raced, her brow beaded with sweat. Fingers encircle her wrist and guide her hand to the back of a the wrought iron chair that had been mysteriously and silently placed in front of her. "Steady yourself, whore," again he whispered.
She places the other hand on the chair back... its position such that she bends forward slightly at the waist. She had spent the day at work without a bra according to his order this morning, and the hours of jostling had rubbed her nipples on the fabric to a point of torture. And now, as she is bent to the chair, the weight of her breasts pressed them harder against her blouse. Her Master was so well attuned to her that, at her mumbled moan, he knew her nipples burned. Fingers dabbled at the front of her shirt. Tapping as light as a feather on the nubs through the cotton... tracing tiny circles around them. Then, finding the first button and, with a practiced twist of the fingers, it opened. With slow deliberation, the fingers marched from one button to the next, each in turn falling open. Between each one, the fingers examined the nearby nipple, tracing its outline with the tip of a nail, feeling them stiffen further... enjoying the hiss from between her teeth. With each button that surrendered, the shirt pulled across her breasts to the side, until at last, they hang free. The relief was immediate, but in the same instant, they prickled with vulnerability as they swayed beneath her.
His body moved, she could only sense it, but not hear it. Slinking like the shadows hemselves he moved through the room. She tries to follow with her ears, but they were drumming with her heartbeat, and she clenches her eyes tighter as the temptation to peek came upon her. He would never know in this darkness. She could look to see what he was doing, and he would never know.
