(To read Breaking Leigh Act I)
Candlelight never had it so good. And, at that moment in time, neither had I. I was spellbound at the vision that sauntered on patent leather Mary Janes from the built-in closet we, after removing its sliding doors, use for dressers, storage and a good deal of BDSM play
Clear your mind. Take that nasty, chalk filled, White Lung causing eraser on the edge of the blackboard that is your perverted imagination and wipe the slate clean. Erotic Figure Drawing 101 is now in session. Our model today is the delicious Leigh.
Once you finish sharpening your mind’s eye, draw this:
Start with shoulder length auburn hair done up in pigtails. They frame a lightly made-up face of the bluest eyes adorning a masterpiece of feigned innocence, complete with frosted pink lips. Leigh knows that a little goes a long way. She has a stunning canvas to start with when she uses make-up. Just enough on the eyes to make them worthy of being registered as Weapons Of Mass Distraction. A lot of women would do well to heed her beliefs in this regard.
Now draw a white, button down cotton cardigan. Render it one size too small for the 44 DD breasts causing the tiny pearl buttons to bow outwardly under great duress from the wonders hiding underneath. Wonders with pert and taut nipples, all freed from the restraints of a bra. The sterling silver teddy bear pendant I gave her as a gift gleamed in the soft glow of the candles. I swear I saw the little shit grinning at me from his vantage point in her amazing decollage.
The skirt should be plaid, of course. The pleats are crisp, the hemline easily above mid-thigh. Make it just long enough to be an actual article one would wear out if feeling mischievously naughty but not blatantly slutty. In short (bad school girl skirt joke) it’s not just for role-playing, but we use it that way.
Now is when the shit gets real. Knee socks. White, over the knee, lace edged, sheer socks. The amount of thigh showing, as a result, is not very much. But what you do see is alabaster white thighs framed between the too short skirt and the too long socks. This dichotomy makes a little skin look like a lot more, the sum more than its parts. The aforementioned Mary Janes finish the ensemble.
The *clip clip clip* of her heels on the old hardwood floor echoed in the night, or at least that’s how I recall it. I didn’t have a great deal of blood above my hips at that moment. My Maker gave me two heads, but only enough blood to use one of them at a time. Figure out who was driving at that moment….
She. Was. Radiant. Fucking beaming. I hope my smile echoed hers as I cupped her head in my hands and kissed her butterfly soft. “My fucking God you look incredible!” I whispered. “C’mon now, turn around, let me see all of you.” I reluctantly gave some distance in order to allow her to do a pirouette, at which point she flipped up the skirt to reveal Fuck! a pair of very plain, white satin panties. Nothing fancy, just as simple as could be. Just the fucking perfect finisher.
I could feel my eyes growing distant and narrower already. Oh yes. Oh fuck yes. I get to play with, undress and blister the ass of the goddess under the faux Catholic school girl get-up. Prayers do come true.
The fact I was nude except for a bath towel needed to be addressed and immediately. I was completely out of character for what we had planned, especially for how cock hardening she already looked. We made small chit chat and flirted as I assembled my wardrobe for the evening.
When we scene I almost always wear the same outfit. Leigh likes me in it, so I only wear it when we are going to play. It’s no where as elaborate or involved as what she was wearing. Matter of fact my outfit is very much in line with what I usually wear 24/7 with a few notable exceptions.
While not my norm, when we do scene I will often go commando under my faded blue jeans. It just makes things easier, plus she likes the unobstructed bulge. A pair of dark leather work boots with rubber accents is the footwear she prefers on me when she submits to my perversions. Typically I would wear old sneakers in everyday life. Apparently it is true that, at least in this instance, “shoes do make the Man.” I do like the added height (I’m easily a head taller than Leigh already) and the soft *clump clump clump* they make adds a nice dimension to our play. It would be difficult to Top her with any respect with frayed athletic shoes making that shrill gym floor *SQUEEK SQUEEK SQUEEK* sound.
The piece de resistance is The Shirt™, which is nothing more than a form-fitting black T-shirt. That’s it. The shirt’s cut hangs on me very well, like a bad dream you can’t escape. And I only wear it when we scene. When I am her Sir and she is my doll.
Aside from that I always try to shower and shave so I look and smell nice. Plus it’s just a common courtesy to her as well as makes me feel worthy of her submission. I clean up pretty damn good according to Leigh. I’d hit that if I saw what I see in the mirror.
After emptying ourselves (NO worse scene wrecker than a previously ignored bladder!) and turning on the ceiling fan to help the night air cool the bedroom (being rural does have its benefits) with the night breezes, it was finally time. A day of playing who can send the naughtiest text. Edging her pussy while edging the lawn. Fucking each other with our eyes in every room in the house. A Hollywood shower with enough groping to make prisoners blush. All leading up to this moment where I raised my hands to her head and cradled her face, my thumbs and pointer fingers on either side of her ears.
I took a deep breath, looked straight through those drowning pools of blue and said….