NC-17

After a movie, a drink, and a cigarette, Master stands to turn off the lights in the living room and kitchen, slapping Slave on the ass as he walks by. He takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom. I set my glasses down on the night stand and Master steps into the bathroom for a moment. I take an extraordinarily long time to unbutton my shirt, wanting him to watch me undress, although I thought about letting him return to find me naked and handcuffed to the bed. Instead he comes back to find me just finishing peeling off my shirt, gazing up at him in just a red lace bra and a navy, high-waisted, a-line skirt with white polka dots. The outfit really is something straight out of an old pin-up photo, but my stature speaks of something much more demure, innocent, and even shy. The moment his eyes fix on me, he lets out an audible sigh, just one decibel away from becoming a quiet moan, and I smile to myself knowing I've pleased him. As he slowly strips off what remains of my clothes, he kisses me more softly than anyone ever has before, almost as if his lips don't even touch mine and what I'm really feeling is just the tingling of electrons rapidly bouncing back and forth between us, trillions of times faster than my racing heart can beat, although it's damn determined to try to keep up. I can feel the energy shift throughout the room as Slave steps in and silently makes her way to the bed. We turn to her, lie on either side of her, and the dynamic changes as she giggles and tells us both that we'll have to put up a fight to get her clothes off. We are happy to oblige.