Obedient Little Puppy
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The front door opens and shuts. The key is turned in the lock and the chain put in place, ensuring that no one who is not welcome can enter the tiny flat.
He has arrived.
She sits on the sofa. Her heart is in her mouth as she listens to the soft thud of his booted feet on the uncarpeted floor. Her head is lowered and her top teeth dig into her bottom lip. She is excited about what will happen, but is also afraid, and yet she has no idea why.
She has known for several days that he was going to visit her today, and everything has been planned, right down to the very last detail. She knows that to invite a stranger into her home is an act of both insanity and stupidity, but she is willing to trust him, as her instincts, which are always right, have been telling her from day one that he is a good person. This is the same reason why she has informed no one of her plans.
The living room door opens and shuts as he enters her personal space. Still she is unable to look up at him. She can see his feet, and long legs, as he crosses the room quickly, a matter of seconds passing before he is standing before her. He is still now, silently awaiting her reaction. His close proximity sets her heart racing, but now, somehow, she finds the courage to look up at her new companion.
He is just as he had described himself to her in their many online conversations. Tall, slim and dressed smart-casual, in a simple yet striking monochrome. Beneath a long black wool trenchcoat he wears a crisp white shirt, its top button open to reveal a tight black top underneath, and a black tie. His legs are encased in black leather trousers with a spiked belt, and he wears chunky black boots and black leather gloves.
Following her scrutiny of his clothing, which she likes, she looks up at his face. Or rather his lack of a face, as he is hiding it behind an expressionless white Japanese kabuki mask. The only part of him that she can see is a pair of sharp blue eyes, which now stare directly into hers to make her feel slightly unnerved. Any hair he may have is also completely hidden, tucked inside his shirt collar, perhaps, or up into the black fedora perched on top of his head.
Having now had several moments to get used to him, she finally finds the courage to speak. Still looking up into his eyes, she smiles and says, ‘Hi there. It’s nice to finally meet you.’
He inclines his head slightly in response, but says nothing. His silence does not bother her, because he had warned her that this would happen. She knows that she will not get a single word out of him in the time he will spend with her, but there is something about this prospect that she finds quite exciting.
‘So…what happens now?’ she asks.
He extends a hand towards her. She hesitates for only a second before taking it, allowing him to help her to her feet. His eyes pierce her so intently that she feels her knees buckle, but he gently steadies her, making sure that she is okay with questioning eyes. She nods her head, swallowing nervously, but keeps her hand in his as he moves back towards the door and opens it, leading her out into the hallway before stopping.
Sensing the problem, she points to the door beside them, which he then opens to lead her into her bedroom, its purple and black colour scheme a delight to the senses. As the door shuts behind them and they are alone together in this relatively small space, her excitement becomes even more intense and she takes a deep, shaky breath in a desperate attempt at calming herself.
But her excitement is infectious. The blue eyes of her companion are smouldering now, and she can hear his breathing as it becomes heavier. The sound has a powerful effect on her, filling her with a sudden desperation to get even closer to him.
She finds she can’t control herself, and reaches for his face. But his hands shoot out of nowhere and grip her wrists in midair, tightly enough to make her wince. He glares at her, his eyes narrowed into angry slits, but despite her fear she can feel her pussy becoming damp with need.
Suddenly he releases her and pushes her roughly away from him, sending her sprawling onto the bed. Struggling to sit up, she watches as he shrugs off his trenchcoat and folds it neatly before placing it on a wooden chair. He then approaches her again, but rather than looming over her, or even pinning her down as she had feared, he sits down beside her and gently pulls her up so that she is sitting up beside him.
He has arrived.
She sits on the sofa. Her heart is in her mouth as she listens to the soft thud of his booted feet on the uncarpeted floor. Her head is lowered and her top teeth dig into her bottom lip. She is excited about what will happen, but is also afraid, and yet she has no idea why.
She has known for several days that he was going to visit her today, and everything has been planned, right down to the very last detail. She knows that to invite a stranger into her home is an act of both insanity and stupidity, but she is willing to trust him, as her instincts, which are always right, have been telling her from day one that he is a good person. This is the same reason why she has informed no one of her plans.
The living room door opens and shuts as he enters her personal space. Still she is unable to look up at him. She can see his feet, and long legs, as he crosses the room quickly, a matter of seconds passing before he is standing before her. He is still now, silently awaiting her reaction. His close proximity sets her heart racing, but now, somehow, she finds the courage to look up at her new companion.
He is just as he had described himself to her in their many online conversations. Tall, slim and dressed smart-casual, in a simple yet striking monochrome. Beneath a long black wool trenchcoat he wears a crisp white shirt, its top button open to reveal a tight black top underneath, and a black tie. His legs are encased in black leather trousers with a spiked belt, and he wears chunky black boots and black leather gloves.
Following her scrutiny of his clothing, which she likes, she looks up at his face. Or rather his lack of a face, as he is hiding it behind an expressionless white Japanese kabuki mask. The only part of him that she can see is a pair of sharp blue eyes, which now stare directly into hers to make her feel slightly unnerved. Any hair he may have is also completely hidden, tucked inside his shirt collar, perhaps, or up into the black fedora perched on top of his head.
Having now had several moments to get used to him, she finally finds the courage to speak. Still looking up into his eyes, she smiles and says, ‘Hi there. It’s nice to finally meet you.’
He inclines his head slightly in response, but says nothing. His silence does not bother her, because he had warned her that this would happen. She knows that she will not get a single word out of him in the time he will spend with her, but there is something about this prospect that she finds quite exciting.
‘So…what happens now?’ she asks.
He extends a hand towards her. She hesitates for only a second before taking it, allowing him to help her to her feet. His eyes pierce her so intently that she feels her knees buckle, but he gently steadies her, making sure that she is okay with questioning eyes. She nods her head, swallowing nervously, but keeps her hand in his as he moves back towards the door and opens it, leading her out into the hallway before stopping.
Sensing the problem, she points to the door beside them, which he then opens to lead her into her bedroom, its purple and black colour scheme a delight to the senses. As the door shuts behind them and they are alone together in this relatively small space, her excitement becomes even more intense and she takes a deep, shaky breath in a desperate attempt at calming herself.
But her excitement is infectious. The blue eyes of her companion are smouldering now, and she can hear his breathing as it becomes heavier. The sound has a powerful effect on her, filling her with a sudden desperation to get even closer to him.
She finds she can’t control herself, and reaches for his face. But his hands shoot out of nowhere and grip her wrists in midair, tightly enough to make her wince. He glares at her, his eyes narrowed into angry slits, but despite her fear she can feel her pussy becoming damp with need.
Suddenly he releases her and pushes her roughly away from him, sending her sprawling onto the bed. Struggling to sit up, she watches as he shrugs off his trenchcoat and folds it neatly before placing it on a wooden chair. He then approaches her again, but rather than looming over her, or even pinning her down as she had feared, he sits down beside her and gently pulls her up so that she is sitting up beside him.
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