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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.
Excerpt:
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.”
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