I don't dream of diamonds.
I don't care for shoes, bags or flowers.
Chocolate... now that, I like that. But that's still not what I need.
When you call me to your study, late at night. Or first thing in the morning.
When you stand behind me in the kitchen, one hand on my shoulder, that's when I get my favorite gift.
It starts with kisses on my hair, as you sweep my cascading curls to the side.
Your hands move down on my arms to hold me close by my hips, your fingers digging into the thin fabric.
I'm not allowed to wear anything that hides my body from you, not inside the house. I need to be available at all times.
A silent claim.
Yours.
One hand on my jaw, tilting my head to the side as you scrape your teeth on the side of my neck.
The other hand splays out on my tummy, pulling me even closer until your bulge nestles between my cheeks.
I tiptoe a bit, just to tease you, but you hold me in place, your fingertips pressing down on my collarbone.
"Not now, kitten." Your tone, a premonition. Try again and you won't be kind.
"I'm sorry." I whisper, but we both know I don't really mean it. It's a game we play, one that serves to excite us both further.
I pretend to rebel, and you act as if you're angry.
I tone it down, and you're pleased.
Because that's what it really is about, pleasing you. The fact that I'm enjoying it is secondary. A happy coincidence, if you will.
You bend me over, wherever that may be, and slowly lift the dress over my bare ass.
I'm not allowed to wear underwear either. It creates unsightly lines.
"Are you really, kitten?" The smirk evident in your voice as you rub my soft skin with your warm hand.
"I..." I pretend to stall, wiggling my butt closer to you.
Your palm meets the curve of my body with a loud bang, the sting of it dispersing quickly with the jiggles it created.
"Don't make me mad, baby. I don't have the patience for games today."
"I'm sorry." My voice is earnest, my eyes pleading as I look at you over my shoulder. I don't want to make you mad, and you know it. I just like to show my claws occasionally.
"That's better. Let's see just how sorry you are."
You trace two fingers across my cheek towards my center, pausing to hover over my bare lips.
"I'm really, really sorry." The anticipation is thrumming the blood in my ears, muffling the world around us. You hum, and start slowly rubbing my lips, up and down, side to side.
The reserved movements appear gentle, but they're only the start.
They serve to make me desperate for more.
They serve to teach me my place.
If I try to move closer, you will stop.
So this time, I stay in place, desperate to earn your approval. Desperate for the gift you reserve for my best behavior.
"No more sass?" You ask, your fingers stilling on my skin. My answer will determine what's coming next.
"Not today." I promise, staying ever so still to illustrate it.
"That's a good girl."
With two fingers you spread my lips, and I inhale in anticipation.
You chuckle, and without a word you push one finger into the slick heat, then a second one.
Slowly, you curl them pushing down on my sensitive spot.
"Breathe, kitten." You instruct me, and I realize that I was holding it in without meaning to.
I exhale then take a deep breath as you slowly start moving your fingers in and out, the sound of it an unmistakable evidence of my desire.
I know it pleases you, just how ready I am for you, and that makes me even wetter.
You spread your fingers inside me, and the pressure on my walls almost makes my knees tremble.
Almost.
I know better than to give into it, the reward is more than worth it.
You hum, as if you agree to my unspoken thoughts. You probably know what I'm thinking about, anyway.
You pull your fingers out without any words, and the sound of a belt unbuckling fills the air between us.
A button, undone.
