Coming Home

As I walk through the door, I'm surprised to find you already there. You were still dressed in charcoal grey suit pants and a white blouse. I pause for a moment and take in the sight of you. That feeling, the ability to look at you, breathe and assimilate the moment, feels unequivocally good. Time passes, but I'm unaware of how much. While it feels like only a moment, your mischievous grin and amused look imply it was a bit too long. "You are completely silly. And adorable." Your words are soft, but tension fills their tone. Like you want me to ask some follow-up questions, but I can't quite feel what they would be.

"I missed you. That's all. Is it so bad that I want to see you for a few moments at the end of the day?" my hesitant but thoughtful reply. The truth is always the easiest and, in this case, simple to reveal, so why not stick to it?

"Bad. No, of course not." Then your eyes make that magical sparkle they seem to always make when you have an inspired thought. "But." you take a step forward, "it isn't essential, is it?" You're stalking me, springing a trap, but I'm not sure what it is.

I bite my lower lip, hesitant at what you are doing and the energy it causes in the room. My mind flashes over the past few minutes. I'm trying to see what it is and what's causing it. I need to determine the potential outcome range. It may seem a simple moment, but the look in your eyes, the way it sends a tremble through me, is always anything but simple. The moments of the unknown, the uncertainty in what I'm about to step into, always leave me considering. "No, not necessary, but I enjoy it anyway." my hesitant reply.

You take another step closer; the gap between us is gone. Your warmth is intoxicating. Thermal communication lets me sense what you are thinking. Scorching heat radiating from you. I close my eyes for a second and pull in a breath; your soft scent provides a calming feeling. As I open them, I see you pulling a piece of cloth from your suitcoat pocket. Anticipating that I'm about to say yes and be ready for the ride. My eyes open wide and focus on yours. I nod and whisper "yes," then remove my glasses as the soft fabric moves across my eyes, turning my world to darkness. Your fingers tighten it around my head. Your lips near my ear, and your soft breath drips around my neck. "Don't worry, Daniel; I'll be all the light you need."

Your warmth radiates to me, baking me into a light sweat. You feel so close, and then it is gone. I listen hard and hear your footsteps, growing fainter, and the soft call of your voice, "Aren't you coming? Don't keep me waiting." The clear sounds as your shoes click up the steps. I picture the room in front of me. I've walked it many times in the dark, so the blindfold doesn't concern me. I step towards you, confidently picturing the room around me in my mind as your clicks grow fainter. I know you are near the top of the stairs. I begin the climb to you--a hand on the railing, firmly grasping it and trying to stay calm. I turn the corner on the landing, six more steps to the top, and then three to the bedroom door. I picture each one of them. I lift my hand and touch the door. As I walk through, I'm not sure where to move; I listen close, trying to hear you, but instead hear silence. I take another step, then feel you against me, overwhelming as you press me against the wall. Your scorching heat and intensity contrast the cool of the plaster.

Your lips are on my neck in a deep kiss, then gentle bites as your teeth attack my skin. My hands in yours, and the coolness of the wall as you guide them up and against it, "Hold them there." you command - your favorite type of bondage, not of rope, but compliance. Your hands move down my arms, your kisses fast and aggressive. I can't think for a moment. All there is you. Your hands on my chest, grasping my shirt and then tugging, the buttons pop from the shirt, freeing my body. I flinch as you press me to the cool of the wall. "The buttons will be worth it." a delicate whisper at the moment, and I try to let it go and do as you continue to strip the fabric from me.

A piece at a time, the material is removed. Your hands were studied and reassuring as if learning how I'll react to each of your touches. The way your hand slips over my chest or grasps at my hip, the feel of you pressing against me, a study to see my reaction.

Your hands against mine again. "You have to stay." It's a whisper, not firm, filled with care. I hear you walk away and open a drawer. I draw in a deep breath, trying to stay calm, to slow down what is happening to me. A light cool touch on my shoulder, little pickles but light as it rolls down the skin of my back. I take a faint breath as I learn the feel of it. As it moves lower, its press against me gets a bit harder, and I gasp with surprise, cringing a bit. You repeat the process a few times as if studying me, learning what causes me to respond. Then you stop for a moment. I'm left with nothing but the sound of rustling fabric.

"Hold still and breath," the heel of your wrist brushes against my cheek. Silky fabric presses to my nose and mouth. I take a deep breath and catch the scent, letting out a little moan. I assume it causes a bit of a smile in you, but I can't tell as I'm left in the dark. "No tasting," you whisper. As if I could. The pricks of the Wartenberg on my skin contrast with the feel of the warm silk on my face. All too quickly, you have integrated what you've learned about me to play with my breathing. To control when I inhale the scent of you held to my face. Your teasing continues until I'm left shivering and gasping for breath. You pull it away. "Go on, deep breath. It would be best if you slowed down. We've got so much further to go."

My thoughts flow through me as I stand there away from your touch. It had been a rough day, and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to do this now. I usually only want you to see me at my best because it is what you deserve. I bit my lip, trying to refocus on the moment and you. I couldn't let everything else go; the day kept seeping in. I bit harder, hoping that the sensation it caused would help me block everything else out and focus. I manage to get lost for a moment, not in you, but in me in my feelings and emotions. I jump as your fingers touch my rib. Not so much from where or how you touch me, but that you've touched me. I had heard you walk away, but the steps back to me fell on deaf ears.

Your hands drift on my skin, delicate touches teasing me, watching as I struggle to hold still. "Daniel," Your hands turn me towards you and guide me down to my knees. "Every inch" My lips press to the soft tops of your feet, soft and slow, delicate kisses scatter on the skin. Moving slowly, my lips part, and I touch my tongue to your foot. I was taking in the taste of you. It feels intoxicating, and I am both lost and found. My head is flowing; I'm lost in a sea of emotion -- love and fear, it's all swirled together. How much you are, how much you mean to me -- it's hard to fathom, and it can feel overwhelming when I look at it. I press my lips harder to your foot, now thankful for the blindfold, as my feelings start to leak from my eyes. I kiss your ankles, each kiss growing bigger. I'm longing, needing you, and losing my ability to persist without you. It's happened before, but generally, in ways I could pull it back, I could face it. For some reason, right now, I can't find that stillness. All I can feel is you and despite that, what's coursing throughout me is the fear of being without you.

At this moment, that is what is feeding my submission, my adoration of you. Feeding a desire for you to know exactly what this is for me and to feel that. It feels like if I do, it will bring safety and protection. Perhaps it brings the opposite, but now it feels like my only choice. I lean in harder, as my lips start up your legs, my hands on your thighs, I'm grasping at you, I can't let go. I kiss harder, but the torrent of emotion keeps building. I can't fight it or hold it in. I kiss through the think fabric of your pants, across your thighs, to your hips. I'm shaking as the sobs start. My lips press through the material to your cunt, and your hands find the back of my head and hold me there. I sob, feel what this is, and lean into you. I'm lost a complete mess. I'm entirely yours. You can see all of it and me. From the feel of your touch, it feels like you don't mind, that you can take it and hold me anyway.

"I know you," you whisper. I try to picture your eyes, but I can't find them. "You need this, you know. It will help." I shake my head slowly from side to side, trying to deny it but knowing it's true. You always seem to know me, to be one step ahead in knowing me. Another whisper, "you do. You'll feel a lot better after." I nod, small movements that get more prominent as I find the spots in me that say you are right.

Your fingers slip along my back, and I inhale, catching my breath, and taking in your scent. Then your lips part, "I've got you, but you must tell me. You have to show me all of it."

Your movements were delicate as you stepped to the side. Your left-hand presses on my shoulder. Your inhale of breath, and then the moments of nothing, waiting. Then, the sharpness of your hand striking my ass, the clap of it in the room. I stand committed. You raise your hand again, the same sharp intake of breath, and then crack. I press my hands harder to the wall, wanting to stay steady, "It's okay." You whisper, "Go on, let it out." Your hand rises and falls again and again. I'm not counting. I'm not focused on you but only on the feel of the impact, the feel of the sting and warmth as it seeps through me. It's almost as if I'm not me. I'm there but not entirely present because I hear the gasp and cry. You stop for a moment. "I know, let it out -- I love you, it's okay, you can show me." You wait and touch me, letting me have a moment to feel it, not the stings but whatever the emotions are inside me. You want to see them move, so I put them there for you to see.

You pick something up. You touch it to my shoulder. It is thin and cool as it rests against my skin. You lightly move it, letting me feel it. "You need to say yes to this." I shiver as the tip of the cane runs down my back. I bit my lip harder again. This time to fight back the tears and emotions I felt in me, this has felt so cathartic. I feel so close to letting go. I don't know what I need, but it feels like I need this now for whatever reason. I need more. I need to show you and help to do it, and this is the way. "Yes, please." My words come out. I'm thankful that my voice almost sounded steady as I said it. As it moves through the air and cracks, the whoosh hits my skin.

I jump, the echo of it in the room. And then another as it strikes hard, and I feel myself shake. Pulsating fingers of pain shoot from the second welt. I'm sobbing, not from the strikes but from the emotion of everything that has happened. I'm releasing all I was holding back. "That's it, let go." I hear the words, but they don't register. There is only this; I'm in a trance from the emotion and want to let go. My body pushes back, ready for the subsequent impact. The sting of it is still there, but what I am now feeling is relief. I don't know how many it is before you stop, but when I am next aware, your arms are wrapped around me, holding me tight. No words but soft breath along my neck. You are letting me know you are still right there. That I'm still yours, and it will be okay. I take a deep breath, "I've still got you." Your words are reassuring, and I put my hands on yours, feeling them around me and showing you I don't want you to let go.

I stand there with the cold wall against my hands and chest, your warmth against my back. I breathe deep, letting out the feelings, the emotion, the previous rush of your touches had caused. I close my eyes and soak in the sense of the moment, your breath on my neck. And am thankful you give me a few restful moments to bathe in your strength and tenderness. Your fingers start to move, light, gentle touches, tracing the skin of my chest, light and delicate.

Miniature termers course through me. The touch is so different, so tantalizing, and subtle. Starkly contrasting to those I had experienced moments earlier. My eyes can't open, though. I'm lost in this, in your touch, and how it feels to be near you. Your hands slide over my shoulders and down my sides. Your lips press on my neck, soft at first. Then teeth grip the skin at the base of my shoulder. I gasp and push to the wall, my knees go a week, but still, you don't let up. My eyes open wide at that moment, and like I see everything, but all I know is you. You let up for a moment and flip your head to the other side. Your hair dancing across my neck and then the same intensity on the other side as your teeth again find my flesh.

Your fingertips feel cold as they dance against my skin. Your touch causes my world to get fuzzy around the edges. In response, I shut my eyes. I'm feeling you, and how much I'm, yours pump through me with every unsteady breath as I inhale you. The moment feels intense, yet a certain softness and care that I can handle means as much to you as it does to me. The way your breath feels, the intensity of the moments. I wish I could hear a steady clock tick to know time is moving forward. Instead, it is nothing but drifting and space.

Then you feel your hand grasp my hips, then slide around me, grasping me. You press closer to me as if there can be no space between us. The warmth of your body moves to the side of me, and I lean into you, ever so slightly. I can feel your gaze, and I know you are watching me. Generally, it causes my breath to quicken, but right now, all of me is in tune with you, so I keep breathing and feeling. Your hand slides along with me, and I shiver. It runs over my skin, down my back, and onto my ass.

"Stay still," you whisper, then retrieve something from your nightstand. I am still trying to anticipate what your next move could be. You grasp the small toy, your hands moving swiftly now, almost like you don't want to leave me without your touch. When you return, your lips press to my ear. "I've got you," a gentle whisper. Your teeth grasp my ear, tugging, letting me feel your power and the safety that comes with it. Your hand resumes the exploration of me, light touches on my skin, and your hand drifts down until it is around me. Your body presses against me, and I close my eyes. "Relax," you whisper. Helping me, giving a gentle reminder as the toy pressed lightly against me. Your lips danced on my neck, the pressure and feel of the toy sliding in.