The first submissive girl had hair of fire and wide eyes of startled, startling green.
Her skin was creamy and she tasted of summer when he kissed her sweet, caramel freckles. She was young and petite and demure and took an age to bewitch. Once under his spell she gave herself without expectation, definition or guideline, entirely from instinct and desire. Her innate submission called out to the Dominant that had waited curious, impatient and ever insistent inside him.
When he slowly stripped her perfect, quiet limbs, spread her lovely arms and parted her delicious thighs, he realised he had found himself. And she knew herself to be his slave.
He taught himself how to play on her pale, willing, trembling body. He learnt how to make her heart pound with the softest of commands. He found how to use pain and control to make her wet and hungry. He discovered a dozen ways to take her, writhing and shuddering, to a tumultuous and noisy climax. He acquired patience and a sexual generosity that surprised him. He acknowledged and accepted his own sadistic streak that made her cry out in pain, fear and urgent arousal.
He called her his tiger cub because of her colouring, her freckles, her feline movements, her kittenish face and her sensuous purr.
It seems like a lifetime ago now.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
(originally posted in my now deleted ‘Shadows and Dancers’ blog)
Photograph stolen off the internet, provenance unknown. If it is yours please let me know so I can congratulate you, and remove it if necessary