She loves it when he's on his knees
He may be the head of the company,
but once in her domain, he doesn't even rate to speak unless spoken to.
He controls boardrooms with the tip of his pen.
She controls him with whips, whispers, and floggers.
He loves having his balls smacked.
He loves licking her leather boots.
He comes every time she pegs him. He's never ashamed to beg for more.
Yes, he controls everyone in his employ, making them do any and everything he so desires.
But she makes him go home smelling like her used up play thing to kiss his wife and children before he can even think about taking a shower.
Regardless of all the humiliation, punishment, and reward,
she loves it when he's on his knees.
It means he's earned the right to please her
And she finally gets to come.
When he touches me, goosebumps instantly raise up on my flesh everywhere except where we're making contact. No, that spot is searing with a fire like no other. There's no stopping what happens next. It's inevitable.
Hands. Lips. Body.
The before, however. That is what makes it worthwhile.
It starts with his eyes. I can always tell when those steely blue orbs pierce me. It sends my heart rate skyrocketing. It's how he begins to touch me. As if his eyes had the power to reach out and caress me in the most intimate areas even whilst I stand in the middle of a crowd.
He then begins to stalk me.
Like I'm his prey.
In truth, I'd gladly be his rabbit if it meant he would pounce. He won't though. He enjoys watching me squirm. I can only imagine that it gives him pleasure to watch as I grow hot with desire at his ability to toy with me from afar.
It begins to feel like it'll never end.
The heat mixed with cold chills makes people wonder.
Among all the smiles and laughter; the conversation and gossip, he glides grazing me with phantom touches. Smiling at a sight I must be, barely able to carry on intelligible conversation. He get’s me to the point where I need to excuse myself before I’m embarrassed beyond retribution.
But it’s not a bathroom I seek.
I find a place where I can be alone.
A broom closet, an empty room, a dark and isolated corner.
Any place where I can finally calm this unrelenting urge he's unleashed within me.
It's the eye of the storm, and even though I know what's coming, I'm never prepared.
I don't even know he’s in the room until it's too late. It's these moments that he decides to pounce.
Hands. Lips. Body.
I'm catapulted into the stratosphere.
When he touches me.