You open the door and step in. The space is dark except for the bare light bulb hanging in the middle of it. This is your target, your stage. Nobody has told you this but you feel it. Instinct tells you there is safety in the light and in the darkness you feel you must reach it. As you move across the space your heels click on the floor. They are pencil thin and sky high. Your steps are hobbled by the steep incline of the arch. You feel naked and vulnerable as you cross the darkness, like a rabbit knowing that a predator is close. You feel a chill and goose bumps form on your skin, even though the air is warm and comfortable. You reach the center and stand beneath the bare bulb. Knowing that I am there watching, observing.
It is dead silent as you peer into the darkness. The thought crosses your mind; maybe I am toying with you, maybe I am not here at all. As doubt starts to enter your mind, and as you start to turn your head you hear my voice "Who gave you permission to move." At once you head snaps straight ahead and you freeze. You hear me get up from what sounds like a folding chair and begin to move closer to you. "On the floor" You drop to your hands and knees.
The corset makes this move difficult, graceless, and you hope I didn't notice you're clumsy, jerky descent to the floor. You keep you head level and don't look up. You watch as my boots draw closer. The toecaps are like mirrors you stare into them as they reflect your beautifully made up face and hair. You watch as the boots start to disappear from your view. I am walking around you, inspecting you. You feel your flesh bubble as my eyes run from one end of your body to the other. There on your knees, the under breast corset squeezing your midsection into a delicate wasp shape, pushing the rest of your flesh into the classic feminine form. Full breasts and rounded ass slipping out of the top and bottom of the restrictive garment.
You feel the tang of leather as the tip of my riding crop glides down the base of your neck and along the lacing of the corset and into the crack of your ass. My footsteps have stopped and you sense that I am standing behind you. You feel yourself getting wet knowing how sexy you must look. You feel the tip of my crop now inside your thighs tapping them, wordless commanding you to open you legs and let me view you in your completeness. I can see your bald pussy, glistening, the wetness, running down your thighs.
"Hold yourself open." I hiss. You reach back with one hand and with your forefinger and ring finger you unfold the lips of your pussy. Your middle finger hovers above your clit hoping I order you to touch the swollen nub. You look glorious, your delicate manicured fingertips holding back the pink wet flesh. The flow of your wetness having been disturbed by the introduction of your hand having nowhere else to go now dripping on to the floor, pooling.
