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I then undo the garter belt that’s securing her stockings, making sure to be gentle as I pull them down her legs and off her feet. I admire her legs, long and smooth, a sight to behold. They looked lovely encased in silk, but they’re magnificent bare.
I lean in close and speak in her ear, my smoky voice sending shivers down her spine, “Angel, are you ready for me to proceed?”
She nods eagerly, and I suspect that her eyes are closed beneath the blindfold; there’s very little movement from her eyelashes pushing against the silk.
I feel a thrill of satisfaction at her submission.
I move my hands slowly over her legs, tracing the lines of her curves, lost in the feel of her skin. My fingers curl around her waist, pulling her close, my heart racing as I allow myself to savour this moment.
“Angel, are you wet for me?” I whisper, my fingers itching to explore the answer to that question for myself. Lightly, I brush my thumb over the sliver of skin that’s peeking out between the end of her basque and the start of her satin thong. She moans softly, her body trembling with anticipation.
“You are very wet, Angel,” I confirm, not needing her to answer as I discover the damp patch between her thighs. It thrills me. “Let me show you just how much I’ve been wanting this.”
As I begin to explore her body, I can feel her tensing up, her breath hitches, and her body responds to my every touch. I’m careful to take it slow, to build the intensity between us, and to ensure that she’s comfortable with every step.
“Are you ready for me to touch your breasts, Angel?” I ask softly. “May I free them to admire every inch of you?”
She nods, swallows, trying to find her words. I give her a moment and then she whispers, “Please.”
With gentle fingers, I reach inside the top of her basque, cup her breasts and lift them free from the restraints of the material. They’re full and round, the flesh pink and tender from my caress. I admire their beauty for a moment, my gaze focused on their perfection.
“You are beautiful, Angel. Your peaks are already firm and erect for me.” My fingers reach out and lightly brush the sensitive tips, eliciting a soft gasp from her. “May I feast on them?” I query, my voice low and full of desire.
“Yes, please, Sir,” she breathes, her voice shaking with anticipation.
I lower my mouth towards her right breast, inhaling deeply of her scent as I do so. My tongue darts out to taste her, licking the sensitive skin surrounding her nipple.
Her breasts are sweet and rich, intoxicating me. As I move to her left breast, I take one peak into my mouth, sucking and gently tugging on it with my teeth.
“Ah!” she cries out in pleasure, her hands reaching up to grip my head and keep me there.
I feast on her, switching between breasts as I move, making sure to cover every inch of her flesh with kisses and gentle bites. I want her to know that I am claiming her, that she is mine.
I’m still gentle, restrained, but the beast inside of me is growling to leave a lasting reminder of our night together, to ensure she – and the rest of the world – knows who she belongs to.
“How do you feel, Angel?” I ask, lifting my head to gaze at her face for clues. Without being about to see her eyes, I focus on her flushed cheeks, heavy breathing, and the way her body arches towards me.
“I’m... I’m feeling very... overwhelmed, Sir,” she manages to say softly, her voice shaking.
I smile, a slow and wicked grin spreading across my face. “That’s good, Angel. That means you’re ready for me,” I whisper, my voice low and seductive.
Without further ado, I lean down and press my lips to hers, my tongue probing her mouth as she responds eagerly, the passion between us growing with every touch. Her hands now grip my hair, pulling me closer, merging our bodies into one.
Slowly, I break away from her lips, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Are you ready for me to take you to the next level, Angel?” I ask. Even to my own ears I can tell how deep and thick with desire my tone has become.
Even if I wasn’t trying to change my voice to keep my identity a secret from her, she wouldn’t recognise it, I don’t think. I barely recognise myself.
She nods eagerly, her eyes fluttering behind the blindfold. “Yes, Sir,” she gasps.
I stand up, reaching for her hands and helping her to her feet. “Come, let’s move to the bed,” I say, leading her to the soft, velvety mattress.
As she lies down, I crawl on top of her, our bodies pressed together. With one hand, I gently trace a path down her neck, across her collarbone, and down the centre of her chest. I’m ready to see her naked, to have her bared before me.
Carefully, I roll her onto her side, so that I can unzip the back of the garment, and once I’m done, I carefully lay her down once more. Slowly, I peel the satin down her torso, past her thighs, calves and ankles, and discard it on the floor. Now the only thing between me and the view of her perfect body is the tiny scrap of satin between her thighs.
The beast in me wants to fist the elastic and pull until it bites into her skin, marking her as mine, making her cry out. But instead, I take a deep breath and slowly slide the thong down her legs, revealing every inch of her desire. Her wetness coats her inner thighs as I brush my fingers across them, leaving a silky trail behind me.
