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?
