"π΄ππππππ ππππππ ππππππππ πππ ππππ’ πππ ππππ, πππ πππ ππππππππππππ ππππππ. ππππ’ ππππ πππ πππππ ππππ πππ π πππ π’ππ ππππ πππ π πππ π’ππ'ππ ππππ’ ππππππππ."π€
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I start standing, in sleek black lingerie and my hands in elbow-length, smooth gloves. The gloves slide down my own bodyπ
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The fingers in the smooth black gloves slowly run over my collarbones, tracing the contours of my thighs. The sound of sliding over my skin sizzles like a promise. I remove my bra with gloved hands - the clasp snaps with cold clarityπ
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Each piece of clothing falls not just to the floor, but as if removed ceremoniously. When I'm left in just my panties I slowly run my palm over my stomach. This is not undressing. It's a demonstration of control, where even my own nakedness is presented through the barrier of fetish β¨
