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When Amir opens the door to his boudoir, he’s got nothing on but a shaped waist corset and the longest, sleekest boots that hug his long, shapely legs like a luxurious second skin all the way to his mid thigh.

He strides up to you and gives you a thorough once over, taking in your semi slack posture hunched on the edge of his chaise, your flushed face, and the trek your eyeballs make up to his exposed, pierced cock.  “Ah,” he admonishes, smirking.  “Today, I’m making you earn it.  Let’s see how well you do.”

You swallowed a little nervously at that but this is what you wanted- to experience Amir in a more dominating way than his typical approach to your trysts.  You wanted him to show you more of that… you don’t know what to call it.  Something in him leaves him so effortlessly in control, so effortlessly imperious and unquestionable in-charge that he radiates it when he doesn’t even mean to and you want to explore more of that.

You are surprised that he’s not brought out any implements or toys.  You were expecting a collar, a leash, maybe even a riding crop.

Amir stands before you unfussed and unfazed, staring down his aquiline nose at your clammy face.  And then he smiles.  “I want you on the floor,” he says, but his tranquil tone doesn’t hide the steely tinge of something that makes the simple statement a direct command.  He’s already tapping into exactly what you want more of and it makes you ache.

Somewhat clumsily, you slide off the chaise, balancing somewhat limply on your knees before you make to bend forward more.  To your surprise, Amir bends one knee- the calfskin cladding his leg is so soft and supple that it’s completely silent with the movement- and he presses the very sharp toe of his boot to your solar plexus and gently (but commandingly) pushes you back until you’re leaning against the chaise frame, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Do you know much about leather, darling?”

You shake your head.

“You can feel the difference in quality with only a little exposure to different grades.”  He presses sharply with his foot and when you can only look at him with dazed confusion, he makes a curt gesture with his chin.  “Feel it.”

Like a rubber band, your brain snaps back into function and you grab his leg with both hands. You’re always surprised to feel a respectable amount of strength in those legs- amir plays lithe and languid but his calf is tight and solid under your fingers.  He’s also right about the leather quality.  It’s impossibly soft beneath your fingers, warm from Amir’s typically intense body heat.  You look up at him for a second and he moves so he’s standing on two feet again, though he reaches down to grab your hair and pull you in a little more roughly, pressing your face to his shin as you clumsily lean in.  

“Good leather has a subtle smell that’s very pleasant too,” he says and you swear he’s using his succubus powers because the second he says it you DO smell it.  Warm and earthy but on top of that there’s the smell of Amir himself that’s just about intoxicating.  Cardamom, roasted coffee, citrus flowers…  The hit is heady and you nuzzle against his leg harder.  He pushes your head down (down down down) until you’re hovering over the flat part of his foot and somehow, you already know what to do.

You plant a breathy kiss to the surface reverently and feel a euphoric shot of submissive pleasure when Amir’s hand tightens a fraction in your hair.  It’s praising, you know that it is somehow.  So you continue.