part……1 ended with ......
I will continue the writing as the venture unfolds……. Once home, removing my attire, slow and sensual before a shower......(Wondering if he owns access to the guest list) turns up the volume to Beethoven before I enter the shower......
Powerof Heels....Power of Mind...... continues....
Part 2
During the months in between before we reached April…… also the adapt, and change from seasons. I received a very erotic delivery. Boxed…Matt black, expensive board….removing black satin ribbon with fine gold edges (reminds me of the seams at the back of my sheer black stockings) to open the lid, a hint of leather fragrance…..
Lined out with black velvety fabric…… Super tall flute glasses. Refined cut……one positioned on its side, presented not to roll around, the other, upright positioned, sturdy…….a scroll inside the one flute……which reads…..enjoy the journey……..I smiled, left the box open to inhale the subtle hint of warm leather while I sipped on my espresso. Glancing at the box, my mouth insisted on smiling. Removing my heeled shoe from my right foot, teasing my left calve while I remove the one flute glass. Reaching into the box is like stirring the fragrance….. Like a swirl of hybrid spices. My Index finger and my mouth are sensually sharing a bit of moist, slowly running my finger across my breast line above the silky edge of my shirt……I get lost in a few thoughts at the Cat Walk from a while back. Pushing my right foot back into my heeled shoe while I lift the flute glass running my fingers on its cut class edge. (the finer the glass the more distinct the tone from its edge) Distinct, smooth and fine…. Thinking of those stylish black pointers he had on. While the hybrid of spices seduces my mind……the tinge of amber reminds me of the presence which with ease fills the space around one. An amber which embrace you…… when departing from my desk to work appointments, I closed the box. Thinking, at least I can capture his flirtatious sent, for now, while i wait on the elevator.
The days continue, so does life and work. Each day unfold with its own surprise, newness and challenges. The tinge of amber, still with me, at every hour at my desk. Returning one afternoon from a luncheon appointment, another gift box awaits me. The same style, color, with the newness of more amber. I love removing the stylish ultra-thin shimmered silk ribbons. Glancing at the other box on the corner of my desk, my mind plays my thinking, should I open this one or not. My eyes rolling between the two black boxes, ( my eye balls like a slot machine waiting for the numbers to hit a home-run) the challenge in the amber seduces my thinking to a bold yes, of course woman, its probably the champers for the glasses you received. To my surprise it is not the case. I beautiful silver stand which have thin slots. with black envelopes.
20 black envelopes inside. Each one has a golden number on the back, double sealing the closed envelopes. I am intrigued, not quite sure what to do, other than starting to open them.
Open envelope no 20 first. Black expensive (recycled) paper with a rice paper, semi transparent/ black ink and brushed gold….. this reads…now that you know , I know this about you young lady, imagine what else I know…... Initialed boldly with the black and gold brush- I am thinking out loud, he knew I would start at 20? (leaving my mind with something to chew on)
Remember to read no 19 tomorrow, NOT NOW. Very surprised, also intrigued and tempted. Looking into this box of pure seduction, smiling at the envelopes…saying... fine have it your way……I guess it cannot handle me managing all 20 envelopes in one day. Laughing in my own company. Closing the box, allowing it the corner position on the desk, for easy reach on the mornings. Placing the other box next to my coffee machine on my office sideboard. No better time than now for an espresso and one of those hidden creamy Lindt’s in my desk drawer. Thinking, smart ass, comes along and leave me challenged in my own space, I feel like an oreo being dunked in a hybrid, absorbed and challenged by my own thought processes, while the amber, rum and tonka beans, luring me like a timeless seduction, perfect foreplay.
The mind challenge continue, loving the foreplay and crafted seduction. I very clearly recall my first ever choice I made different to an Instruction received by my first Master, the year of 2001. May month. Hmmmm I challenged what I was not familiar with and paid the price......smiles. I will be good, for now. Excited of course, to read envelope number 19. Like a good girl, awake in time the following morning, even without an alarm , The entire morning schedule, done like a pro. The best part embraces the seduction as I select my heels for the day. Together we are off to the office…..the question is, do I make my espresso before or after I open the box for envelope 19? The question in my head, as I unlock the door, espresso first of course. Smiling at myself, taking my fresh brew over to the desk, very comfortable behind my desk. Come here you sneaky box, such seduction as I stir the rich aroma to circle me……I remove no 19 from its rack. My nipples over erect...... Slowly open the envelope , pull out the black rice paper note……take a deep breath, as I exhale, my eyes start reading the sentence. By now you should realize there are 19 days left for the Gala event which you accepted the invitation of for the good cause it serves. Do not forget to read no 18 tomorrow at tea time, early morning arrivals could be a bit overwhelming. I would not want to do that to you. Tea time should be good? The initials at the bottom in bold black calligraphy with a touch of gold brush.
I am like, you must be fucking kidding me, I could had slept later. Also smiling at myself. Truth is I am smiling at much more than myself. Love it as much as I dislike the fact of the proportioned timing and the control commanded. My coffee is done without even tasting it. This means I need another, while I wait I am talking to the lingering fragrance, glancing in the mirror, saying, I hope he remembers who are the ones walking the catwalk. Whatever we do up there, the audience has no power or control over us in those few minutes. Shakes my buns, reminding myself, May 2001, consequence. Bites my lip, with the soft whispers, which sometimes is just so worth it. Well day, let’s get to it, tomorrow tea time is far away. Looking in my diary, I also realize, I am not close to the office for tea time at 10h00. Do I take no 18 with me or wait until the 17th? Nope, I slip envelope 18 into my diary before I leave, using a large firm paperclip to secure the envelope. Exhale, close the box. (Talking to myself…I think…)Pack up and go woman……lots to achieve.
Day 18 arrive, by tea time I am in a meeting, with a follow up. I am in the hope it could perhaps finish early. Back to back meetings. By 14h30 I could be getting a break. I at the time (14h30 ish) break. I excused myself from all off to use the restroom. On the toilet with my panties around my ankles, my diary open on the floor in front of me. The envelope, the fragrance, my body loves it. The rice paper, black letters brushed with gold….reads….. Congrats, you made it. I am somehow convinced my little notes added warmth to your everyday up to now. No 17 could be enjoyed over dinner tomorrow evening. Do not be late. My heart skips a beat (perhaps it was 3) ….. I re read, it does say, dinner. To myself... I ask you, fucking dinner where? Check the envelope inside out. Nada! Dinner, my mind is seduced with the aroma from the envelope and paper. Subtle but the presence is there. Fucking dinner, what do I wear, (like a typical female) this is totally just like a thunderstorm in the middle of a hell hot day! No details, where am I supposed to be for dinner. Men! This man reminds me of the medieval French. The Goliards who bloomed from celebrating the pleasures they derived from life’s earthier side. Appreciating great wines, nature and lust well expressed through music. So much for day 18. Sigh, 17 days to go, I softly uttered. Pulls up panties after the bidets use. still with envelope in my mouth. Pulls dress down. Envelope in diary under arm. Off to rinse hands. While at the hands dryer, shakes head saying out loud, 17 fucking days. Let’s go day.
Part 3- to follow
Original Printed / Documented / Owned/
All rights reserved.
published - June 2023 - BOH
