This was the second time I'd been hogtied that evening. First time was on the bed. This time I was lying on my stomach on the floor. Wrists tied closely to my ankles which were tied to a harness around my chest. I was gagged and hooded and enclosed in darkness. My mouth and arse burnt with the fire of hot chilies, pushing waves of discomfort into my stomach. I'd never known anything quite so painful before. I felt defeated and helpless, the tight ropes cradled me in captivity. She tied well and I would stay in her bonds until she decided to free me. This I knew for sure.
The chili made me writhe in discomfort and I felt an anger at my predicament - how I'd allowed myself to be captured and abused in this way, willingly! I fought the ropes with all my strength, clenching my arm and chest muscles against them but to no avail. I growled against the gag and shook my body with the little movement I was allowed. The ropes remained tight. My anger kept me struggling for a while as my fingers searched for a knot but I found nothing. This realisation made my heart sink and left me despondent. I had been captured and tied up by a woman and I was humiliated.
I remembered her touch, her beauty and her moments of gentleness. I told myself I was a fool to believe she had any feelings for me. I was just a play thing to her, my body to be used for her pleasure and discarded when she was done. Even worse, I had asked for this! I wrestled with the bonds and cried out in anger, my voice muffled by the gag and the black hood.
I heard her laugh a little and then could sense she had returned. I felt her hands stroke me, my feet, my buttocks, my head.
"What's the matter, slave? Are you not enjoying yourself? Are you getting bored?" and she continued to caress me. I heard a soft clicking.
"I'm just taking a few photos for my collection." she said and the clicking continued. "Don't worry, no one will know that it's you. Apart from me."
I felt the fight drop out of me. She truly owned me for the night and I knew I should accept it. I wondered how longer that would be. Helpless as I was, and at the mercy of her whims, I felt comforted by her attention.
"That's better," she said, squeezing and massaging my toes as she knelt beside me. "I think you'll find things feel much better if you submit to them. Accept your fate."
Her touch was strangely relaxing, as was her voice, soft and powerful.
"I'm going to keep you tied for a bit longer. Leave you to stew a while. You may be more comfortable on your side," and she pushed me to lay on my right side. She stroked along my thigh. The tension in my legs and arms reduced. I felt I could stay this way for a while, if needed. No doubt she would decide.
She got up and moved away. I remained in her perfect restraints for a while, I had no idea how long. After her words, I relaxed, accepted my bonds and began to drift. The chili fire began to subside and I felt a heavy tiredness fall upon me. After a few minutes she returned and draped a blanket of some kind over me, covering me entirely. I heard the sound of the television and the chink of ice against glass. I pictured her sitting on the sofa, feet up, dressed in silky black lingerie, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders as she sipped her whisky. She flicked the buttons on the remote with vague disinterest and relaxed. She was my Mistress and having me as her slave was all she needed. She considered her next move carefully. Or at least that's what I imagined.
I had been angry, confused by the pain and pleasure and my endless, futile struggles against her cruel dominance. I was starting to understand her message to me, unspoken as it was. To have power over someone can only be expressed by administering both pain and pleasure, in carefully measured amounts. Through her actions she had shown me, guided me through what it meant to be helpless. To be her slave and for her to be my Mistress. From under the gag, the hood, the blanket, I let out a tiny laugh.
