To many people involved in BDSM the experience is about deprivation - of freedom, of movement, of choice - there are many aspects. I have a submissive girl with me here, her name is Helena.
There is one thing she must be deprived of before we consider any others, and she must agree to be deprived of it - I will not use force. For the benefit of purists (although, of course, I cannot prove we are actually doing this) I shall ask her this in the text. "Helena, I ask you to relinquish to me your power of choice, in other words agree that for the rest of the day I will make your choices for you, and you will simply agree without question or hesitation. Do you agree?"
"Yes Master."
So now she has no choice - she has agreed to obey. The next deprivation will be of your modesty, Helena. Take off your clothes, my love, slowly so I can watch you. I love to watch her undress. For those few of you fortunate enough to have seen her pictures, description of Helena is unnecessary. For the others - she is quite tall, with nice long shapely legs. She has a cascade of brown hair down way past her shoulders, lovely sparkly eyes and medium pointy breasts which she is very sensitive about, but believe me they are very sexy, and they are very sensitive, to the point where she can easily get turned on whenever she goes out braless and the fabric rubs her nipples. I may explore that later. she does not shave her pubic bush, which we both prefer.
Now she has undone her green satin blouse and her white lacy bra is on view. Below that she has a darker green velvet mini skirt, not too short so as not to expose her black stockings and garters - I abhor pantyhose. She is slipping the blouse from her shoulders and it's resting there while she unfastens the cuffs. She's teasing me, and she knows she will pay for that. She casts the blouse aside in an untidy heap, we'll worry about tidiness later.
I make a sign with a twirled finger and she turns her back and slowly bends from the waist. Underneath she wears a white thong and garter belt, which I already knew because I direct what she wears, or doesn't wear, each day. She is my slave, I own her. She unfastens the skirt and steps out of it as it falls to the floor. Her tan contrasts with the white underwear. I tell her to stand still as I unfasten my leather belt and pull it from the loops, then double it to send it swishing across her buttocks. She flinches and I berate her for doing so, telling her to touch her toes and that each time she flinches she will add one stroke to the six I intend for her. By the time she has finished counting she has reached ten and had a red to contrast with the thin band of the thong between her cheeks.
I am impatient now, I tell her to undress completely and quickly, and she obeys, not daring to do her usual tease of show and reveal.
And here she stands, naked, but with a nervous smile. Helena is an impish devil. Not quite in the same league as some, but working on it, often leaving a trail of destruction and discarded clothing in her wake. But now she stands before me in quiet acquiescence - we have nothing to prove to each other except to reinforce our love and affection. But that impish smile is there, hidden just beneath the surface if we need it.
Back to deprivation. Modesty is next, my Helena. Turn round, bend over, show me your most intimate self. Thank you, now face me again.
Consider now the five basic human senses - touch, sight, sound, taste and smell. What better place to start than these basic senses?
