She has seen too many summers to be completely innocent.
And yet he has made her so.
She is new, pristine, spotless.
She is pure, virtuous, chaste and naive.
She is unsullied, unblemished, undefiled.
She has become a neophyte, a learner, a beginner.
A novice on her first day, her white dress pressed and spotless, the hem gently brushing her bare legs.
She is his pupil, his student, his apprentice, his initiate.
She is his disciple, his follower, his protegé.
She is his slave, his angel, his goddess, his Muse.
In this quiet, holy, secret place, she kneels before him.
Her mind and body are burning.
She is ablaze with desire.
She is thirsty for knowledge.
She aches to learn every rule, every code, every facet, every element, every shade.
Every verse of his dark and decadent religion.
She is hungry for him to instruct her, to teach her, to guide her, to discipline her.
To show her a wild, breathless universe of pleasure and pain.
She wants him to do everything.
Across the miles.
She is his.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Antonella Fabiani
Originally written by me seven years ago and posted a number of times. I hope regular readers can bear another repeat. There is nothing like a beautiful novice.