When she wasn’t looking, I ducked into the bedroom to pick out a dress and panties because I desired to dress her up.
She came to me at one point during the night and asked about the outfit. I told her it would mean something later. She frowned, showing off that cute wrinkle in her nose, but said nothing further.
Later that night, it was time. I told her that the outfit was for her to slip into, as I wanted to see her be my little model.
“Go on” I said, motioning towards the bedroom. She did as she was told.
A few minutes later, I entered the bedroom and there she was – wearing the short black dress that stopped inches above her thigh – my model, presenting herself for me. As a treat, as my student. A breathtaking view.
She twisted her feet into the carpet, a motion saying she felt shy. Yet she flashed that wide grin all the same. She knew I only had eyes for her. She knew, standing before me, she was the centre of my attention.
I took the sight of her in. Her bare beautiful legs, her kind and gentle eyes. That adorable grin. I felt like unwrapping her – the greatest gift I have been given. But that would come later, for there was a greater urge in me – the urge to reassert my dominance. To remind her of where she stands.
I wanted to dress her to show her, to test her, to see her displaying herself for me.
I wanted to make her wait for the time when I will take her. And unlucky for her, I like to torture her in that regard.