The door opens, my heart pounding in my chest. I move through the door, looking down as I take each precarious step in my heels, my dress slowly sweeping around my fishnet-encased legs as they caress back and forth past each other with each inch I move forward. I try to maintain my balance as I hold my head high, the corset around my ribs keeping my back straight and the tight necklace around my neck making me feel subservient and pliable.
As I look around the room, I see them seated on the settee together, watching me, studying my movements as I start to cross the room toward them. My pulse quickens as I see them splayed out, boots decorating the end of their entwined leg. His legs covered in tight black trousers, showing off every muscle in his class and thighs, before I notice his prominent bulge leading up to his crisp white shirt framed by the leather harness wrapping around his firm body, her heeled boots leading up her shapely calves before reaching the black stockings accentuating her long legs, her thick thighs decorated with the lace tops of her stockings as the suspender strap disappears below the high slit in her black dress. Her body, draped in black silk shows every inch of her supple breasts and firm nipples as she lounges over him, her arms sprawled up and around his neck.
I draw nearer, beginning to feel the need to serve them rising within me, the ache for their approval like a chain around my neck. Their silent judgement forces me to stand straighter, hold my chin up, and walk with the poise that they require of me. I slowly edge closer and closer, taking light steps, my new-found femininity taking over, my submission building within me.
As I get to them, I stand silently, listening to them breathing as I bow my head in respect, willing them to give me an order and bring me purpose. As my eyes drift up from the floor, they are watching me, smiling, enjoying my silent submission to them. I keep my head bowed and internally pray for release, but my prayers aren't to god or any other deity, they are to them, my Master and Mistress. My prayers are what I would say to them if I had a spine, what I wish I could say to them, the begging that I long to express to them. They sit silently, almost willing me to speak, to demand their attention, to plead to be toyed with. As my mind runs at a mile a minute, I start to get impatient, feeling my calves ache from standing in my heels. I feel the burn at the bottom of my thighs to slouch, to relax my posture, but my corset would not allow it, they would not allow it. |
