Greedy, So Greedy

I am placing this up as a reminder. For both of us.

My written account of the scene can be read here, here, and here.

***

How can I write about a scene that you have written about so beautifully?

I guess that it is my job to write about how it felt to me.

Your writing shapes mine and mine shapes yours. That is very simple and some good and some bad.

When I walked upstairs behind him, he said, are you ready?
I replied oh so hesitantly, maybe.
He said yes or no.
I paused.

He said, NE, when you step over the threshold it begins. Be ready. (I love how personally and carefully he uses my name, and not just in a scene. He is the one person I know that holds true power in a name.)

I waited a few seconds to compose myself and I stepped over.

I walked in and I saw the fruit salad I had made sitting on the desk, I saw other things on the desk…sparkly, silver things. I didn’t look. I could wait. First of all I was scared and secondly I was so fucking excited I didn’t want to ruin it for myself.

I know that he is greedy…he is the greediest motherfucker I know…but in reality, so am I. I knew he had bought jewelry for me. I had seen some of it. I wanted to see all of it. I wanted to wear all of it. I had thought about it so many fucking times in my fantasies that it was almost surreal that it would actually be real.

I stood in front him, waiting for him. I was nervous facing him like this. He was sitting, assessing me. I knew that I looked good: light black button up shirt, extremely thin, very short linen skirt, high heeled sandals, underneath a black lace bra and a black lace thongs to match. I had never worn thongs for him. I liked them enormously, and I knew he would.

He had me undress for him slowly. I wasn’t angry this time…I had waited long enough, I was fucking ready for this. The only thing that I will mention is the jewelry. He made me take off all of my jewelry. I wear earrings, a watch and two necklaces every day. All gold, of course. I also wear two rings everyday: my wedding ring and the solid gold ring that he gave me. I wear it on my right index finger. I love touching it all time. It is a reminder. He stripped these from me first. I only wear jewelry that says something about me…to me. I love it. It is a fetish from the time I was a kid. In high school I had rings for every finger of my right hand. Stripping me of these things takes more away from me than taking my shirt off sometimes.

He admired me for a while in my bra and thong. I can’t help that the black lace and the gold of my hair look good together. Then he stripped me all the way.

I wouldn’t look at the desk. He said many things to me. I replied. But this story is from my point of view and so here it is.

He came over to me and put the slave bracelet on my wrist. I began descending down the inevitable staircase, just a few steps. I heard a heavy chain drag across the desk. I think he did it on purpose, slowly so that I could hear it. He attached it around my waist resting on my hips. I never looked at it straight on. I have no idea how I looked in it, but I felt it. It was heavy and cold at first.

Boundaries…restraints…I went down more steps.

Then he had me kneel in front of him. I was fucking dying. I knew that I wanted at least one piece of jewelry still left on that desk. At least one more piece to go on me. He does not disappoint.

He has a way of putting me down, when I am receptive to it, just by looking at me a certain way or handling me a certain way. I was receptive.

NE

To be continued.