[ the rules are clear in his mind, but cynthia seems to have enough of a grasp on what he likes that their safeword shouldn't need to be used. he can allow himself to enjoy the moment and take solace in the power that cynthia has over him.
he smirks, biting his lower lip idly as she lets him go and turns away. ]
There won't be a crease out of place.
[ and he gets right to it once she's gone. there's no shame in obeying cynthia's request - he knows that it's all a part of the dance between them, building to an very satisfying experience. it's been far too long since they've done this.
when she returns, she'll find him kneeling with his clothes impeccably folded next to him. ]
I know there won't be. [Is the last thing he hears her say before she slips away.
She means it, too. A man that stylishly dressed knows how to take care of his clothes.
If she wanted, she could practically throw them off him, leave them in a pile to wrinkle. She's done it before. It throws him wonderfully off balance. But she likes the transactional nature of this. Give, take. Accept. Stay in boundaries. Enjoy each other.
It's some time, perhaps ten to fifteen minutes, before she returns. Part of it was that she wanted to make him wait. The rest is that her outfit took some time to put on. She's wearing thigh high leather boots, scandalously skimpy black lace panties, a corset that completely exposes her breasts, and matching elbow-length black leather gloves.
She makes a rather incredible-looking dominatrix, honestly.
One of her gloved hands is clutching a riding crop, and as she approaches him in those precipitously steep heels, she tucks the end of the crop under his chin, tilting his face up to look at her.] Not a crease out of place.
I always have liked a man who can follow orders, Steven.
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i am the latest...
he smirks, biting his lower lip idly as she lets him go and turns away. ]
There won't be a crease out of place.
[ and he gets right to it once she's gone. there's no shame in obeying cynthia's request - he knows that it's all a part of the dance between them, building to an very satisfying experience. it's been far too long since they've done this.
when she returns, she'll find him kneeling with his clothes impeccably folded next to him. ]
Welcome back.
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She means it, too. A man that stylishly dressed knows how to take care of his clothes.
If she wanted, she could practically throw them off him, leave them in a pile to wrinkle. She's done it before. It throws him wonderfully off balance. But she likes the transactional nature of this. Give, take. Accept. Stay in boundaries. Enjoy each other.
It's some time, perhaps ten to fifteen minutes, before she returns. Part of it was that she wanted to make him wait. The rest is that her outfit took some time to put on. She's wearing thigh high leather boots, scandalously skimpy black lace panties, a corset that completely exposes her breasts, and matching elbow-length black leather gloves.
She makes a rather incredible-looking dominatrix, honestly.
One of her gloved hands is clutching a riding crop, and as she approaches him in those precipitously steep heels, she tucks the end of the crop under his chin, tilting his face up to look at her.] Not a crease out of place.
I always have liked a man who can follow orders, Steven.