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Her master wants her to always wear white, because she is a virgin and pure. For two years Angel has obeyed him, but when she sees a pair of red shoes in a shop window she is overcome with the idea of red, and lust. She doesn't want to be pure. She wants her master to take her, all of her, and make her a woman. The red shoes are her blooming sexuality, but will they also be the end of her relationship with the man she loves?
4300 words. Contains BDSM: submission, spanking, deflowering.
He pulled at her skirt and soon she was laying there, breasts, exposed, only her simple cotton panties saving her from total nudity. The lights were dim and she was glad that she could not see herself naked beneath him. He pulled off his shirt and she placed her hands on his broad, masculine chest, sliding her fingers through the hair there. “You are amazing,” he told her. She couldn’t find the voice to say that she felt the same way about him.
“Please,” she said, breathless and not knowing what she was begging for. “I have to tell you. I'm a virgin.”
He went still, one of his hands motionless hooked under the waistband of her underwear. “What?”
“I've never done this before.”
He got up abruptly, and at first she feared the worst, that he wouldn't want anything to do with her, that he was one of those men who were too honorable to have sex with a virgin. He turned on the light and returned to the bed. Her panic abated when he returned to his task of pulling down her panties, sliding them over her smooth legs. She didn't know what to do except lie still as he gently pushed her legs open and positioned his body between them. He still wore his slacks and made no move to take them off. He slid his hands down her thighs and she moaned a little when his fingers brushed across her mound.
With two fingers he separated her lips, opening her up. She had never been revealed to a man before. Exposed. He traced one finger around her sealed entrance, causing her to shiver, to want him more. “A virgin,” he whispered, and she realized that he was worshiping her. “So rare,” he continued. “So perfect.” He lowered his head and slid his tongue across her vulva, up to her clit, gently teasing it, taking it between his lips.
Angel, who always wondered what it would be like to have wings, was flying. His fingers were everywhere but inside her and his mouth sucked and teased as she arched her entire body towards him. She wanted him, wanted everything. She broke, her orgasm crashing through her body, forcing her back on the bed. He pulled away and looked up, scanning across her stomach, over her panting chest at her face, eyes closed tight, breathing through perfect red lips.
“Angel,” he said sliding up the bed, “what do you think of me?”
Because she was young, and because he was older, good-looking, and rich; because he had just given her first orgasm, she answered honestly. “I love you.”
“You naïve, trusting thing,” he said, but it was with tenderness. “So fortunate for the both of us that I found you first. I'm almost twice your age.”
“I don't care.”
“You don't know anything about me.”
“I know enough. Please. Make love to me.”
He kissed her lips, her breasts, her stomach, and while lust began to burn within her loins again, he did not kiss any lower. “Perhaps one day I will,” he said. “But not yet, my delicate virgin. I want to savor you.” He gathered her up in his arms like a child and held her close, kissing her forehead. “Be patient my dear, and wait.”