I have you bound on my bed. You are naked, your wrists tied above your head, your legs bound wide apart. Completely available, totally vulnerable, and I can see you tremble as it hits you, that feeling of helplessness. Knowing how much bigger than me you are, how strong you are, how muscular, yet knowing that you have given yourself to me this way. I can feel it, feel the trust you have in me. Knowing that I will hurt you, deliciously, with love and savage tenderness, but that I would never injure you or use you or misuse you.
Teasing my fingernails over your flat brown nipples, I see you lunge up slightly. I lean down and whisper in your ear. "It feels good, doesn't it pet?"
You can only nod, your throat tight with tension and lust. I pluck at them with my fingers and nails, tugging them gently, teasing you. I lean down and lap at them with my tongue, first one, then the other. And then I suck on one, hard, biting you, pulling at you with my teeth. Again, one, then the other. You groan.
Now they are rigid and wet. But not quite hard enough.
I reach for an ice cube in the cup by the bed, and run circles around your nipples with it. The icy water runs down your chest and sides. I see you watching me, and I get the blindfold and put it around your eyes.
"I want you to just feel me, pet, not see me." I never tell you that it's too hard for me, to see your eyes when I do this to you. Knowing you could see my heart in my eyes, know how hard it is sometimes to take this role, yet knowing it's a deep need as well. And what a precious gift it is, this surrender to me. I take a deep breath, hoping you feel what I feel when I am naked and bound by you. The owned feeling, that sweet longing to be Yours, to do everything you command me to do.
I take a long soft feather, and run it down your body, from wrists to ankles. It skims over your flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps over you. Then tickling it back up, slowly, erotically, watching you squirm and hearing you moan. My hands follow that same trail, skating over your bare skin, learning the textures of your body. The soft hair under your arms, the warm smoothness of your chest, the crisp hair framing your beautiful cock, your long hard legs, straining in the bonds, wanting to touch me. "Not yet, pet."
Again I am drawn to your nipples. I shudder, knowing how good it feels when you suck on mine. I attack them greedily, sucking them into my mouth until you are moaning. Glancing down, I can see how aroused you are. Your cock is rigid, red, throbbing, fully erect. God, it's so beautiful. But I resist the urge to touch it, telling myself the same thing; not yet, not yet.
I start to massage your body, feeling the muscles under the warm skin. Your inner thighs, along the line between hip and thigh. Close, so dangerously close to your cock, but never quite there. I can see you tremble when I grip your thighs. You want to spread them more, but the bonds won't let you. I know that feeling, pet. Wanting to be so open and available for you.
Taking another ice cube, I run it along your thighs, down behind your knees, down to your ankles. Those sounds you make are driving me crazy. I can feel my own body tremnling in response. Next, I pour warm oil on my hands, and begin to handle your body. Smoothing down your arms, across your chest, your hips, your legs. Kneading the muscles, memorizing the feel of your body under my hands. That beautiful body you give to me so willingly.
You are shiny with the sweet vanilla smelling oil. I simply stand there, admiring you, knowing you are there because you choose to be there, because you love me, because I love you. And that it's something we both crave, this exchange of power.
But the lust is building inside me, pet. I slip my fingers into my wetness, and slather it on your lips. You greedily lick it off, whimpering slightly. "See what you to do me, pet?"
You chuckle, and thrust your hips up. "See what you do to me, Mistress?"
"Oh yes, I see it. Do you want me to touch it?" I ask innocently. A violent shudder rushes over your body. A hissed "Yesssssssssssssss," is all I want to hear. "Not yet," I answer.
I see you tugging at the bonds, your muscles bulging and straining. I just smile wickedly. Moving down to the end of the bed, I unhook your ankle cuffs, one at a time, and retie them with your legs spread and up and open, looping heavy soft ropes under your knees to take the strain off your legs. I run my fingernails down your inner thighs, and I can see your battle, the battle inside you, hating to be bound like this, loving it at the same time.