My Decision

The moment has come. I try to calm myself by repeating that it was best to just get it over with. Even though my mind is trying to be calm my heart races as I bow my head and prepare. I become determined, and say quietly, "Okay."

The hot shower water pours down on my head. Instantly the soothing impact of the warmth calms my heart and lends credence to my head. For some reason, I have always been able to think very clearly in the shower. Perhaps that is why you instructed me to take a long hot shower before you arrived, you always seem to know what is best for me.

As I stand in the shower, suddenly I am overcome with a worry. My mind starts to run in a circle, but the moment quickly passes and I am calm again. I quickly become ashamed of my weakness. Even though I have told you about this problem of mine and you assure me that you are understanding, I still am haunted by my inability to be strong for you.

I begin my shower routine, paying special attention to trimming my facial hair, and trimming my pubic hair as short as I can. Razors in that area make me uncomfortable as I do not have very steady hands, especially when thinking about you, but clippers get the hair very short. I lather up, and let the sweet aroma of the soap fill my nostrils, managing to imagine the scent of your shampoo for the most fleeting of moments before it is lost. The soothing atmosphere of the shower begins to massage my body and my mind starts to wander.

Preferring to dry in the open air of the room, I wait to use the towel but instead wrap it around my waist as I normally do and walk into the bedroom of the hotel. I enter the bedroom and walk towards the window, pulling down the blinds and looking for your car. I do not see it. I chose this hotel specifically because it is very close to your favorite restaurant so that will make the travel for dinner all the shorter. It is when I turn back to the room to begin drying off that I am surprised.

You are sitting in the corner in a chair that I could not see as I walked out of the bathroom. Sitting cross legged, right over left, with your left arm on the chair, you smile slyly as you take a long, slow drag from your cigarette. I immediately notice my near nakedness, and try to pull the towel a little more across the centerline. Your words ring out over the TV which has been left on CNN with a mild volume.

"Stop."

I immediately cease movement and lower my head but glancing up ever so slightly with my eyes so I can see the tips of your shoes. I see your feet move as you sit up and begin to stand up. As you start to walk towards me, I readjust my eyes and look at the ground. You walk with a slow amble that conveys your intentions.

"Look at me.", you say.

Following your command, I raise my head and peer into your eyes. What I see there makes me tremble at the same time it instills a sense of comfort and joy. You take another few steps closer to me and stop less than an arms length from me. I can see that you are thinking about something, trying to decide, but what I am unsure. Then suddenly but slowly your left arm begins to move. You put a single finger to my belly button and begin to trace it up my stomach to my chest. You stop at my chest, directly between my nipples. I look back up at you from having glanced down at your hand, to see you smiling mischievously. I know exactly what you are contemplating.

Your smile tells me exactly what is on your mind, but I am confused when you do not go for the temptation you have clearly offered yourself. Instead, you continue the movement of your hand upward past my chest to my next, stopping ever so shortly to admire the still tender spot from where you sunk your teeth into me on our last encounter. You close your eyes briefly and inhale a deep breath, like you are savoring the taste, or my gasps of pain, or maybe just taking enjoyment of the smell of the shower fumes coming from the bathroom.

The hand passes the bite marks and ventures onward to my face. You slide your hand to the side, gently cupping my cheek. I can feel my hesitation melt in hardly a moment as you caress the side of my face. My head sinks into your hand and I feel the warmth from your palm, how fantastically wonderful you have the power to make me feel. Suddenly I notice a sudden pressure on my left nipple as your right hand grasps it, pinches and twists.

My body tries to move away, but my heart tells it to stay put, I must please you with this pain. You continue your twisting, without any sign on wanting to let go. I squirm, and fidget, trying to get away from your grasp, when suddenly you release my chest from your grip. My eyes immediately dart to your face. I look imploringly into your eyes looking for an answer, but there is none, just a smile that makes my heart jump.

Your mouth opens, and you mouth wordlessly something I don't understand, but the grin afterwards speaks volumes. You glance quickly downward and notice I am shivering. As you reach downward, grasping my towel, you tell me that I no longer need it and then whip the towel off my body. There I stand, completely naked before you, for your perusal.

There is nothing to hide anymore. You began with my mind, slowly working up your domination over me from there, and now I have surrendered to you my will. I am yours. Staring into the carpet, I ask you, mumbling at first, louder afterward, what you would like me to do. You chuckle and point at the chair you were sitting in only moments before. I notice that besides the chair are several articles of clothes from my suitcase, also that the chair seems to have been adorned with a series of small ropes.

You tell me to dress myself in the clothes you have picked out for me. I walk over to the chair, blushing from head to toe knowing that you are taking your time examining the gift you have taken from me. Picking up the clothes, I notice that you have chosen for me a set of boxers, and a pair of pants. I step into the boxers and then the pants, cinching the belt one notch from tight. Then I turn to face you, wondering what you have in store next.

Before giving me an approving nod, you glance quickly at a bag stored next to the bed, it is heavy looking, black and slightly bulging. Swallowing hard, my mind races wondering what could possibly be in there, I can feel a little bit of a panic rising but you look back at my face and I feel the anxiety ease. You tell me that you brought the bag, and its contents for your enjoyment, not mine, that I may not enjoy the bag or its contents but promise that you won't hurt me.

I trust you.

I am led to the chair you were sitting in, prior to my exit of the bathroom, and am turned around. You halt me as I try to sit down, and placing your hands on my chest, running them downwards to the top of my pants. You loosen the belt and drop the trousers to the floor. I don't know why you had me put them on in the first place, maybe a reverse tease, or simply because you wanted to take them off. I step out of the pants and am then directed to sit.

As was noted before, the chair has been laced with ropes and other restraints. You begin by lashing my arm to the chair, followed by my chest, legs, waist and finally you secure my neck. I test the limits of restraints and can find very little movement available to me. You ask me if I am okay, and it makes me feel good to know that you care so much. Answering in the affirmative, I make you smile and you cinch the rope around my throat just a little bit tighter causing me to have to tilt my head backward just a bit, which puts my face at a perfect angle for you to put the ball-gag in my mouth. You seem to take particular pleasure in this.

You walk around in front of me, dragging your hand across my shoulder, down my chest and to my groin. You feel for my manhood, rolling me through your fingers and giving a quick squeeze before letting go and walking away. You look back over your shoulder to see me in the chair, straining, flushed red and obviously having difficulty dealing with the pain. Your face reveals the joy you are taking from the look of pain and frustration on my face. You reach into the bag and remove a long, black leather glove.

Despite the intense pain I am experiencing, my heart races even faster. I wonder if you are going to force me to deal with a personal taboo of mine. Standing back in front of me, you lean down and ask me if I know what you are going to do with the glove. Nodding, I sign my affirmation but am really just guessing. You ask me if it is okay. Thank you for asking even though you know that you are the only person I would let do what I think you are about to do.

You rear your arm backward, and bring it forward quickly, whipping the glove across the left side of my face, knocking my mind out of focus. I turn my head back to you just before the primeval part of my brain clicks into place. I try to stand, wrenching at my restraints, biting at the ball-gag. You squat just a bit so you can see the look in my eyes. You look unsure of the situation, maybe because you know my aversion to such things, or maybe because the reaction is quite a bit stronger than I warned you to expect. You wait for a minute while I rage at my bonds, wearing out my muscles in a useless attempt to free myself.

My reaction quickly begins to calm, but my mind has just gone through a series of emotions from anger, hatred, and distaste, to calm reflection, depression, and finally defeat. I hang my head at this last feeling, and you come back towards me, placing your hand on the mark your glove has left. You caress the spot, sending a shock through my system, resurrecting some of the anger, but is quickly quelled by the velvet soft touch of your hand. You ask me if I am okay, as a small tear rolls out of the corner of my eye, I nod yes. Thank you for letting me experience this with you.

You hug me closely and tightly, telling me that you appreciate the trust I placed in you, but that you are worried about my state of mind. You tell me that you are going to take the restraints off and let me calm down a bit more. After you let me up, you lead me to the bed, where we lay down, and you hug me while we watch a little TV and you ask me about what I thought about that last little bit of play. I tell you that it happened much as I expected it to, but that you shouldn't have been worried. Mine was a natural reaction that I had to work through before I could accept your dominance over such strikes.

After a few minutes of this, you tell me to stand up and face the wall. Following your instructions, I stand and turn. I hear another click, and then feel a prick on my shoulder. The prick moves slowly in circles, and then towards my chest at which point I can see that it is your knife. You have a glowing grin on your face which matches the bright red streaks making their way across my flesh. You spend several long minutes carving very light marks all over my chest, shoulders and back. After awhile, you seem eager to raise the intensity and begin pressing the knife harder into my skin. The sensation approaches my threshold for pain and I cry, "mercy", our agreed upon word asking you to back off just a bit.

You let me know that you are going to back off abit, and kiss me quickly on the cheek. The connection and suddenness of the kiss make me shake just a bit. It was unexpected, sudden, yet entirely welcome. As pleasurable as the kiss itself was, I know that the only reason you gave it to me was because you are enjoying yourself.

I am left standing as you go back to your bag and remove something. I cannot see what due to the angle I am facing, but it does not seem to be very large. Then a strange sound meets my ears, like a light metal scraping. The sound repeats itself, always ending in a sudden stopping scrape. You walk around to my front and show me what you have, it is a pair of scissors. You point the scissors downward and move them slowly toward my waist. I quickly understand your intentions as you pull the band of my boxers out, and begin cutting the underwear off my body.

When you are finished cutting my boxers, you pull them off me with a bit of a flourish, again looking at my naked form with a gleam in your eye. Feeling quite exposed, you direct me back to the chair, but do not tell me to sit, but rather to put my hands on the back of it and bend over. You return to your bag, putting the scissors away and retrieving something else of small to moderate size.

Walking back over to me, I notice more action than normal coming from your hands. Stopping at my side, you show me what you have removed from your bag, it is a medium sized anal plug and a canister of lubricant. You begin lubing the plug in full view of my face while I stare intently at it, hesitantly, with a bit of trepidation making it way down my spine to my rectum. I am sure that lubing it does not take as long as you were, but rather I think you were taking your time to draw out the fear and hesitation from me, giving my mind a bit of a work out before you got down to business.

Suddenly there is a wet feeling with a bit of pressure back at my rear. The pressure builds until I can feel something enter my anus, but the pressure does not stop. Slowly, more and more the pressure builds as you introduce the plug into me until finally it relieves the pressure at the narrow base. Now I am bent over the chair with a medium sized butt-plug inside of my rectum with only the base telling the tale of the quite unique situation I have found myself in. You tell me to stand up.

I stand slowly, feeling the plug move inside of me. It is not painful or unpleasant but at the same time slightly uncomfortable. Your voice makes itself known, although I detect a slight giggle, telling me to go over to the bed and lie down on my back, which I do in a slight waddle. As I lay on the bed, I stare at the ceiling, listening to you root around in your bag for something that you seem unable to find. Then with a slight sign of relief, you find what you were searching for, and I begin to wonder if I am in over my head.

You come over to the bed, and show me a series of small plastic rings, and a small bit of nylon rope. I also notice that you seem to not be wearing pants any longer. I am shocked by because while I have grown accustomed to wearing very little in your presence, the situation has never reversed itself. You give me a very wicked grin when you notice the look on my face. I don't know exactly what you are intending but that look means trouble, most assuredly.

You climb onto the bed and straddle my chest facing my feet, giving me an exquisite view of your Tiki Turtle thong pressed against my chest. I begin to feel your hands around my groin, slowly raking your nails near my testicles. You then lift my scrotum, and I feel a sharp pain near the base. You tell me that you have tied the rope around my scrotum and are beginning to lash it tighter and tighter. You stop the wrapping and I begin to feel a strange sensation on my penis. It feels like a condom but much more rough. I ask, and you tell me that you are attaching the restrictive cock rings, apparently part ring, part CBT. When you are finished you tie the rope around my scrotum to the rings and tighten it down.

I can now feel my penis and testicles firmly under wraps. You tease me about the control you are enjoying over my manhood, and start to flick the head of the penis, and my entire body shakes violently from the sensation. You slide your waist farther back on my chest until your rear is now firmly seated against the bottom of my chin. This is a relief because I am not used to having someone sit on my chest, even though you continue to flick at my penis.

After a few minutes of this torture, you sit up, showing me a string you have in your left hand, and give it a quick tug to show me what it has the power to do. My scrotum is quickly jerked upwards and it hurts me very deeply almost to the point of making me a little sick. At the same time I am dealing with that deep and residing pain, you move your waist to right over my face. You tell me that I had better stick out my tongue and hold my breath, warning me that if I want to breath, I will do well and if I do not want *you tug violently at the string again* then I will not do poorly.

And with one final tug on the string, you lower your waist onto my head. Right before my breath is cut off, I smell you, deep and it smells like mango's.... Wait, mango's?

Suddenly I lift my head, and notice the water in the shower has fallen onto my lathered head. You are not there, I am not on the bed, my genatalia is not tied up, I am back in the shower. It was just a dream... I sigh gently, upset that it was not real. I step out of the shower and into the living room, looking at the chair in the corner as I do so, but you are not there, neither are the restraints. I sit down on the bed, feeling a bit let down, letting my head rest in my hands.

Then comes the knock on the door...