Initiation

There are such special moments.

There is that gorgeous, delicious, delicate, exquisitely hung moment when he slowly tugs down the zip at the back of her strapless dress and begins to peel it from her like a warm, second skin.

He has already fastened the blindfold for the first time about her pretty head.  He has run the sharp pin wheel so tenderly over the divine surface of her perfect face and, as lightly as a tingling feather, across her full, pouting lips. Her nerve endings are alive and electric with its touch.

He has already run his long, slender fingers through her hair, and caressed her beautiful bare shoulders and her elegant neck, easily coaxing a sweet rose flush to climb into her throat.

He has already run his hands over her body through the sheer fabric of her dress, gliding over her curves,  making her nipples harden and increasing the hungry heat between her parted thighs.

And now, at this holy stage when he was started to unwrap her, he pauses and smiles.  A shiver of raw, sensual, erotic expectation dances like a cool fire through his body.

He loves this moment.  When she has given herself to him. When everything is to be discovered.  Everything is possible, Everything is to be done.

He lets the dress fall in a dark, perfumed circle at her stiletto-heeled feet.

Her initiation has begun.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photograph stolen from Miss Vulpine