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What will Dean think of my body?
Am I beautiful?
I don’t even know.
We can never really see ourselves except reflected in other people’s eyes.
I unclasp my bra and let the shoulder straps fall. Then I drop it on the ground.
My breasts are small but ripe, like peaches. The nipples stand out from the flesh, delicate and stiff.
I watch Dean’s face closely to see his reaction.
His eyes widen and his jaw twitches. His nostrils flare like a stallion scenting a mare in heat.
It’s lust, pure lust. He likes the way I look.
Emboldened, I drop my panties too, stepping clear.
Now I’m standing naked in only my socks, my pussy bare to his view. Slowly, I turn on the spot, showing him that round, full ass that he spanked so recently.
I’m displaying myself to him.
I want his stare.
I want his approval.
And Dean wants to inspect me.
He walks around me like a buyer at auction, looking me up and down, evaluating my body.
His eyes are a hundred pairs of hands passing over my flesh.
I stand still, shoulders back, chest thrust out to his gaze.
Dean cups my ass in his hand, squeezing my buttock as if examining the firmness. Then he circles around to the front and touches my breast. He tests how it fills his hand, tilting his head approvingly as the curve of my breast lines up perfectly with the curve of his palm.
I shiver as his thumb slides across my stiff nipple.
“Very good,” he says softly.
A rush of heat, and my mouth salivates at his approval.
I’m discovering something about myself in this moment.
I’ll do anything for a compliment.
I want praise. I want it badly. And I especially want it from this man, who doesn’t like anyone or anything.
“Lift your hair,” he orders.
I lift up the curls that have fallen loose, baring the base of my neck.
Dean takes the leather collar and wraps it around my throat with the ring in the front. He fastens the clasp behind me.
Then he steps back to admire the effect—my figure naked but for a pair of socks and the leather circlet around my neck.
“Perfect,” he breathes.
