When Addie arrives, the smell of Sidra has just barely left my fingertips, but I am genuinely thrilled to see her. Immediately, my focus pinpoints and zooms in on Addie herself: the way she almost always looks so serious, but I know she’s about to crack a joke at any moment, or do something silly. Despite my resolution to stay a strict and domineering dominant, I find myself being occasionally silly, too. It just makes sense with her.
She arrives at five minutes until seven, just a hair early for our agreed upon time, looking fresh and crisp in an elegant, long white coat, tall white heels, and white leather gloves. She has a tight grey pencil skirt on that goes just past her knees and a baby blue blouse with a white lacy spaghetti strap tank top underneath it. I take her coat and open the small closet next to the door. When I turn back, she’s beginning to kneel. I’m a little surprised, but a thrill runs through me and I don’t stop her.
“Sir, would you like … how would you like my clothing?” She asks, in a small but clear voice.
What an excellent question. And so many points to her for asking, for getting clear direction when I wasn’t necessarily clear. “Thank you for asking. I prefer you naked when you are in my house, aside from your panties, and those only because I want to be able to instruct you to sit comfortably places....