She casts a seductive pose as she is tied there to the bed, tassels from the ropes that bind her decorate her wrists like she is part of the room décor.  Her body is adorned with nothing but thigh-high silk stockings.  I imagine running my hand along her thigh, her calf, cupping her foot in my hand as I caress her, the silk beneath my fingertips, my senses becoming reduced to that of only touch.  In a moment, I will shed my coat and take on the role of Mistress, commanding her to spread her legs and succumb to my whims.  I will slowly guide her towards a restrained ecstasy where she wants nothing more than to please me without betraying her own pleasure.  For now though, I will sit and watch, regarding her from afar, pretending that I am the sculptress, and she is the clay.