She stands waiting for his instructions when she feels the fabric of her dress gently relaxing. Her skin shivers as it’s slowly exposed bit by tortuous bit, first at her shoulder blades and down her spine stopping at the fullest part of her rear, before moving lazily up the back of her calves and then thighs. Her dress held together by just a few threads. She stands waiting, not moving knowing he was in control and would tell her when she could move, when the process starts up again at the front, this time starting at the bottom, going past the apex of high thighs, continuing up past her navel to where it almost meets the plunging neckline he was so taken with at the start of the evening. Her dress was  barely held together, any movement would threaten to tear the precarious threads in two.