He hesitantly opens the door and looks around the room before entering. I have spent some time getting it all ready with only glowing candlelight illuminating the darkness. I didn't open the door for him and I didn't tell him to come in. I just sent him an email and said I would be waiting.
I am sitting in the black leather armchair wearing a long, dark, wine-red dress made of heavy silk brocade. The bodice is of
twining laces cinched into a corset style around my waist rising up to a shelf that barley confines my large heavy breasts. Long tight sleeves hug my arms flaring
at the cuffs. The skirt is the best part. It swirls with massive amounts of blood red fabric, layer upon layer of thin toile dyed to match the top. I laugh quietly to myself, wait till he sees the boots. Around my neck is a necklace made of twisting and dripping black pearls. It rests on my collarbone and then plunges in a trail down to the cleft between my breasts.
I look up at him and give him my best seductive smile. He still looks a bit surprised, though pleasantly so. Perhaps that is an understatement. He looks as if he is doing all that he can to control himself at the sight of me.
I lick my lips and slowly swirl the wine in the glass in my hand. The wine is deep red, the colour of my dress and I have gone to great lengths to especially acquire it. It is thick, spicy and opaque. It looks like blood. Slowly I bring the glass to my lips and and sip the rich spicy elixir.
He feels awkward I see, wondering what exactly he has walked into. But he kept dropping those hints that he liked things on the "dark side" and he was excited by Gothic themes so I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. We share the the hobby of high/dark fantasy gaming and role playing so I am not afraid to "push his buttons" a little. OK, I admit, perhaps I led him there just a bit with the tease of my high heeled boots and the red wine imagery but he he took the bait so now I can play with him and see how far he will go to please me.
Keeping eye contact, I rise out of my chair and glide across the room slowly, never breaking my gaze. I stop a fair distance away and then slowly lower my eyes scrutinizing him from tip to toe, tipping my head to the side, ever so slightly, so he knows i am appraising him. I reach out with one finger and trace his jawline feeling the texture of his beard and the abrasive scratch of the stubble. My finger trails down his neck and i use my whole hand to glide over his shoulders and down to his biceps to test the muscles on his arms. He has been working hard for me. I walk a circle around him, taking it all in, only pausing to sip my wine.
My hand wanders lazily back to his chest and then a little lower and I feel him inhale and pull in his stomach tensing all his muscles, which makes me smile. I pull his shirt out from the waistband of his jeans, pause to make a show of placing my glass on the table beside us, bending over to show my breasts to their full advantage. I rise up again, still holding the shirt tails, walk slowly around behind him twisting it as I go so the fabric rubs on his skin. Roughly with both hands, I pull the shirt off over his head. I make sure there is a brief contact here, my breasts lightly grazing his back. But not too much.
Leaning in, I whisper softly, "So are you my viking soldier, a temple priest, or perhaps a powerful mage?"
"What are you going to be?" he asks.
"A dark goddess" I reply, matter-of-factly.
"Then I will worship you."
Exactly the answer I was looking for.
I am sitting in the black leather armchair wearing a long, dark, wine-red dress made of heavy silk brocade. The bodice is of
twining laces cinched into a corset style around my waist rising up to a shelf that barley confines my large heavy breasts. Long tight sleeves hug my arms flaring
at the cuffs. The skirt is the best part. It swirls with massive amounts of blood red fabric, layer upon layer of thin toile dyed to match the top. I laugh quietly to myself, wait till he sees the boots. Around my neck is a necklace made of twisting and dripping black pearls. It rests on my collarbone and then plunges in a trail down to the cleft between my breasts.
I look up at him and give him my best seductive smile. He still looks a bit surprised, though pleasantly so. Perhaps that is an understatement. He looks as if he is doing all that he can to control himself at the sight of me.
I lick my lips and slowly swirl the wine in the glass in my hand. The wine is deep red, the colour of my dress and I have gone to great lengths to especially acquire it. It is thick, spicy and opaque. It looks like blood. Slowly I bring the glass to my lips and and sip the rich spicy elixir.
He feels awkward I see, wondering what exactly he has walked into. But he kept dropping those hints that he liked things on the "dark side" and he was excited by Gothic themes so I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. We share the the hobby of high/dark fantasy gaming and role playing so I am not afraid to "push his buttons" a little. OK, I admit, perhaps I led him there just a bit with the tease of my high heeled boots and the red wine imagery but he he took the bait so now I can play with him and see how far he will go to please me.
Keeping eye contact, I rise out of my chair and glide across the room slowly, never breaking my gaze. I stop a fair distance away and then slowly lower my eyes scrutinizing him from tip to toe, tipping my head to the side, ever so slightly, so he knows i am appraising him. I reach out with one finger and trace his jawline feeling the texture of his beard and the abrasive scratch of the stubble. My finger trails down his neck and i use my whole hand to glide over his shoulders and down to his biceps to test the muscles on his arms. He has been working hard for me. I walk a circle around him, taking it all in, only pausing to sip my wine.
My hand wanders lazily back to his chest and then a little lower and I feel him inhale and pull in his stomach tensing all his muscles, which makes me smile. I pull his shirt out from the waistband of his jeans, pause to make a show of placing my glass on the table beside us, bending over to show my breasts to their full advantage. I rise up again, still holding the shirt tails, walk slowly around behind him twisting it as I go so the fabric rubs on his skin. Roughly with both hands, I pull the shirt off over his head. I make sure there is a brief contact here, my breasts lightly grazing his back. But not too much.
Leaning in, I whisper softly, "So are you my viking soldier, a temple priest, or perhaps a powerful mage?"
"What are you going to be?" he asks.
"A dark goddess" I reply, matter-of-factly.
"Then I will worship you."
Exactly the answer I was looking for.
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