A blog from a woman on a journey of discovery.

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Sunday, 23 January 2011

Dreaming of the sound of his footsteps.

She stood on one side of the door, knowing that soon she would hear his footsteps walking along the corridor, then his knock on the door.

She had spent the last few days preparing for her meeting. Her body had been scrubbed, and wrapped in seaweed, pampered, soothed with lotion. Her hair had been trimmed, coloured and styled as he liked. A long body massage had been taken, days before, relaxing her muscles, preparing them for what was to come. Her hands and feet smoothed, rubbed, massaged, polished and nails painted.

She had showered and ensured that there was not one single hair where it shouldn't be, his threat to use tweezers to remedy this always at the forefront of her mind when she was in the shower.

Her shower had been warm and long, the water gentle; caressing her body, flowing over her breasts, down the small of her back, her soapy hands gliding easily over her body. She had carefully dried herself and rubbed in the body lotion.
He loved to stroke her soft skin, especially at the back of her legs, the underside of her breasts and along her inner thighs. He often commented on its softness, he enjoyed feeling it after he had used the cane on it too, or looking at the marks made by the whip and the marks left by the rope, running his finger along the welts, or his tongue tracing slowly along the marks he had made on her body, claiming ownership of her and her body, reminding her she existed for him and him alone.

Her hair was carefully brushed, tied back into a pony tail, the way he liked it. The way it gave him easy access to her neck and a ready handle to maneuver her head towards his cock, to pull her around the room, and he liked to be able to see her neck when she was face down on the floor with his foot resting there.

Her face was clean, free of any make up, her eyes bright and wide with expectation, a small smile on her lips.

Her mind over the last few days had been twisting and turning,  a multitude of scenario rushing through her mind, feelings flooding her head; anxiety, fear, excitement, happiness and a  million other feelings that have no name.

She was dressed very simply, in a blue halter neck dress, just that, nothing else; no jewelry, no collar, no ropes............ nothing. He had told her he wanted to undress her, to collar her, to claim back what was his, to see her kneel before him, to watch her put her head to the floor at his feet, and to pull her up and listen to her beg to be allowed to suck his cock. He wanted to look down as her, to see her look at him as he pushed his cock deep into her mouth, watch her gag and choke as he held her head, his fingers entwined in her hair.

So she was ready. Her body was ready, her mind was ready.

He was his.

She left the door and she sat on the bed and waited for the sound of his footsteps down the corridor.

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