Trust, honesty, responsibility, care, sensation, experience, growth, pleasure, imagination, fantasy, freedom. Words flowing like an ethereal shopping list. All those things, positive, insubstantial, that we all seek in one way or another. Finding our own balances as we meander our course through life.
I always counted myself as fortunate in many ways. I've been lucky to have found my balances in so many aspects of my life. My path has not always been a simple one but I've benefitted from the experiences I've had, growing in so many ways.
And so to now ...
Having established so many of the necessary element I find myself here with my shopping list running through my mind, substituting those sensations which I find temporarily removed.
The warm darkness of the blindfold I feel against my skin enhances my imagination, increasing thoughts, stimulating my core to a new height of eroticism; new because of the reversal I find myself experiencing. I've always followed my natural instinct before now, not playing the dominant but simply being myself, allowing the natural me to express. This new sensation stimulating so many nerve endings, some visible and some deep within.
The gag in my mouth is strange. Not one to be lost for words, the inability to talk a new thing to me. The ring holding my lips apart slightly irritating but definitely an enhancement to the situation in a curious way. An extension of the trust I have laid in her hands, wisely I hope. Prior to this I have always received trust and enjoyed the responsibility. The switch is alien to me. I've handed over that responsibility. Willingly to so many extents.
My arms ached. Pulled wide apart, my wrists tightly restrained. The ache was an extension to the yearning my body felt. A yearning for release, but not from my bonds. That sexual release that removes all tensions.
I knew from my own handiwork with ropes that normally one could release the tension a little by wriggling up the bed, just a little, allowing a little slack and providing for small movements, changing the dynamic almost to those vanilla explorations into bedroom bondage enjoyed by so many (even though many might deny the amount of enjoyment). But I was denied this.
My legs were pulled apart by the bindings to my ankles and knees holding me displayed on the bed. Accessible. Vulnerable. What little movement I may have enjoyed denied by the rope bound tightly around the base of my now semi hard cock, my scrotum straining, pulled down, attached (I assumed) to the bottom of the bed, stopping my making that attempt to slide upwards. The rest of the crotch binding further added to the stimulation; the rope bound tightly around my waist emphasising the restraint and the strands pulled tightly between my buttocks with a large knot providing a pleasant pressure to my perineum.
I must have been a sight to behold when you left me there. My cock hard, straining against its' bonds, standing proud, available, a centrepiece, there for your pleasure, your satisfaction. The sensation of your touch a warm memory as I lay there so completely restrained. The frustration as the stimulation stopped was somewhere along that fine line between pleasure and pain. And even now I felt that familiar twitch in my semi-hardness, knowing that the coolness I could feel was a result of the pre-cum which had flowed during your earlier ministrations adding that familiar gloss to the head of my cock.
My thoughts were suddenly halted as I heard the door open. Instinctively I strained against my bonds feeling the centre of my body rise slightly, the ropes emphasising my desire. I felt that familiar stirring as the intense arousal returned, knowing you were there, seeing me, bound, exposed.
"Make him hard for me, slut." I heard you say. Instantly my imagination went into overdrive. What had you arranged? What pleasures would I experience at your hands this evening? Who was this over with whom I was to be shared?
I felt a tentative touch on my cock, which twitched in response. The touch was light. A teasing stroke. More touches, explorative.
"No. Take hold of his cock. I want you to make him hard for me, properly. You know how to hold a cock don't you?" I almost sensed a frustration in your voice. You retained that air of command and the resulting touch was a firm grip on my cock which responded, hardening again, straining once more against the bonds.
I felt you climb onto the bed. You manoeuvred yourself so your thighs were either side of my head. I could smell that sweet, heady aroma of your sex s your brought yourself down towards my mouth.
"Use your tongue on my clit" you commanded and I pushed my tongue through the ring to meet you. My first strokes were gentle. Stretching out to lick that awaiting bud, I felt you shift your weight slightly as you began to grind down on my face, my tongue lapping at your juices as they started to flow. My face quickly became wet and, concentrating on your pleasure, I almost forgot the steadily moving grip on my hard cock.
"Use your mouth, slut. Make sure he is ready for me but don't let him cum yet. That is for me." I heard you say, your voice higher pitched now, showing signs of the pleasure you were receiving from my tongue whilst retaining your air of authority; your control.
I felt a more gentle touch on my hardness. That familiar warmth as I was encased in a lowering mouth. Wet. Hot breath against my skin. I could feel lips rising and falling unsteadily, enveloping my cock. Sucking me in. I could feel my arousal increasing. The rope around the base of my cock was doing its job. I was nearing release but the restraint was holding me back.
