Playtime by Lady Justine

PLAYTIME I by Justine

This is how it was planned and how it will go, and will always go, just as I like it.

Hearing his slow footsteps on the stairs, I'm waiting in my study, smoothing my stockings as I listen attentively for  the sound of the bedroom door opening.

He had followed my commands as planned, texting me when he turned into my street, finding the door to the street ajar. I had left a carefully penned note, a white rosebud on top of it, instructing him to leave his jacket and phone in the marble hallway.

The rustle of paper alerts me that he has found the second pale purple envelope, the note that reads "Take off your clothes and fold them. Sit down on the chair and blindfold yourself". I hear him walk about, his slow and deliberate movements, the creak of the wooden floors under him.

The sounds stop and I press the remote to start music in my bedroom, the faint murmur of a Sigur Ross song. I wait, controlling my breath and feeling my skin flush with anticipation.

Opening the door, I am struck by the beauty of his pale skin, the lightbrown hair, his long, lean body on the transparent Louis Ghost chair. I observe his chest expand and his upturned face as he hears me enter the room, my heels tap on the floor. On the sideboard, neatly arranged, are his collar and cuffs. Caressing his cheek with my nails, I see him open his mouth in anticipation and I can't resist slipping two fingers into his mouth, pressing his tongue down, exploring his lips and teeth, relishing the intimacy.

The leather of the collar smoothly folds around his throat, the leash snapping with a dry click into place. I appreciate the silence of our exchanges, being able to pinpoint the exact moment when this proud, assertive boy lets go of his inhibitions and his reserves. "Get up", I whisper, pulling his leash and making him bend over the end of the bed. Placing a hand on his back, my sharp nails digging into his sensitive skin, I kick his naked feet with my high heeled shoes to make him spread wider. I smile as I see him nervously lick his lips and swallow hard, his excitement unmistakable.

"Mine..." I whisper, running my hands over his buttocks, feeling him tense in anticipation. Stepping back, I pull the chair close, sitting behind him, taking the time to observe him from behind. A soft moan escapes him when he feels that he is left waiting. Taking the crop from the sideboard, I tease his skin with the supple leather. His excitement is infectious and I let the crop hit the back of his thighs and yanking his leash backwards to arch his back. Tracing the marks with my fingers, sweetly, teasingly, I call him my sweet beast, before striking him a second time, a third, just enough until my desire calms and his skin is blotched with red marks

To be continued