You can relax now. As long as you are in my hands, you are safe, and soon you won't be able to think of any place you'd rather be. So whatever it is you're holding on to, let it go, one slow exhale at a time. Feel every breath fully, the cool air entering your lungs and filling your ribcage, the oxygen rushing through your blood all over your body. The exhale whispering across your lips, tickling your collarbones, leaving you hollow and ready for more.
And while you're getting nice and relaxed, I'll be donning my most dapper suit, my favorite tie, my signature scent. Filing my nails, pampering my paperwhite skin that makes such a lovely contrast against my lacy underthings. You'll need to work your way through a few layers and knots to reach my molten core... but, spoilers.
You won't see me coming, but you'll hear me, striding slowly but without hesitation to where you sit waiting. You'll feel me just behind you, feel these blue eyes gazing down on you - you're not allowed to turn around and look, not yet. I'll tell you when, don't worry. There I will stay until I see you squirm, wondering why I haven't touched you yet, why I haven't told you what I want.
I can read your desire from here. It's written on your skin, riding on the wake of each breath. But I won't be satisfied until I can smell it rising from your lap.
What's that grazing your bare shoulder just now? A glove? A crop? A fingernail? I am delighted by your goosebumps as you try to figure out my game. It makes me want to make you wait longer, test your patience, your resolve. But that would mean making myself wait, too, and I'm not one to dally when it comes to my own pleasure. You've been good so far... I won't be cruel unless you deserve it.
Something has dropped into your lap. It's a corset! I picked it out just for you, imagining just how well it would suit your curves. Take it in your hands, feel its fine workmanship, observe its details. My hands grasp your shoulders and gently push you to standing. Don't turn around. Suddenly, your bra pops open and drifts to the floor. A shame, for it is as lovely as you are, but a necessary casualty.
Fit the corset to your torso and hand me the edges. Don't. Turn. Around. Trust me. Hold it against your perfect breasts so I can get the lace through the eyelets. Breathe. This is only the beginning. Seventeen rows to go, at least.
Did you feel me step closer? My breath against your hair, my scent in your nose? Good. Let me get these crossed laces nice and tight. Two, three, four rows... I love hearing you gasp as I tug on each one, seeing you shiver as the loose ends of lace just barely graze your ass. Five, six, seven, eight... I see your waist taking shape, welcoming the resistance of the bones.
