You stroll confidently towards the full-length mirror, sturdy in your flat, shiny Doc Martens. They're sensible and dependable compared with the killer heels you're usually seen out and about in because you need to be comfortable tonight of all nights. You'll be spending most of the time on your feet. She'll be on her knees, just as it should be....
You stop in front of the mirror, eyes taking in every inch of your costume. Perfect. Tonight you've chosen a suit, shirt and tie, all black and of the highest quality. Naturally. You lean down to adjust the tie, running your fingers down over the silky material and smiling as you reflect on the acts you're about to perform. You take a minute to gaze down at your crotch, it's not-so-hidden secret straining at the crisp fabric of the trousers. Humming to yourself happily you check your hair and make-up then your watch, it's almost time.
You walk to the dressing table picking up the two fragrances, hers and yours, lightly spraying yourself with both. It shouldn't work but, strangely, it does. The heady combination of scents invades your nostrils and you close your eyes, breathing slowly and evenly, getting back in to character for the rest of the evening's entertainment.
Act One has already taken place, quarter of an hour ago precisely. Just enough time for her to prepare herself for what she's about to receive but not so long that she's unsafe. You're very particular about the details, it's the little things that make nights like these so special. Every aspect is painstakingly worked out by you beforehand, you cannot afford to lose control in the face of her beauty.
In your everyday life the other girls laugh and call you the Ice Queen, businesslike and unsusceptible to spur of the moment emotional responses. She knows different, knows just how merciless you can be but also how she, and she alone, makes you melt inside.
You head downstairs, pausing momentarily to pick up the key to the basement door from the table in the hallway. You gradually make your way to the secret place, the special place that is yours and hers alone. You slip the key into the lock, one swift turn and it's done. Pausing with your hand on the doorknob you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
It's showtime....
She's laid on the bed in a star-shape exactly where you left her , arms and legs outstretched, each limb attached to one of the bed's four posts. After all she'd have to be Houdini to free herself from your knot work. You pride yourself on the intricacy of the bonds and you pause to take in both them and her beautiful body. Her skin is smooth, muscles taut, eyes closed. Your very own perverse Sleeping Beauty. You grin widely.
Taking a step towards her your shoes creak, alerting her to your presence. Her eyes open, she smiles back at you warmly and – it's a stupid cliché – but your heart leaps, butterflies soaring round your stomach. You gulp and run your tongue over dry lips. She's the one tied to the bed, naked and vunerable, but you find yourself questioning who really has the power.
You, of course, and you intend to show her that.
Pulling yourself together you lean down, cupping her face you run a thumb over one of her dimples.
“I thought you'd abandoned us” she jokes.
“Never” you reply, stroking her face, letting her know that, whatever comes next, she can trust you.
You walk over to the shelving unit built in to the walls of the basement. Opening the doors you glance at the vast array of implements and toys within. Without hesitation you reach over, grabbing a few items. Yes, you think to yourself, these will do nicely for now.
Moving back to the bed you place the items on the table at the side. She looks at them and her eyes widen, an odd mixture of fear and delight on her face as you lean in, hovering above her, your full lips inches from hers.
