Standing in bathroom, gazing at my own reflection. My thoughts are all questions, looking myself in the eyes. Will he be pleased with my appearance? What has he planned? What playthings might he have brought? Will I be able to please him in all the ways he desires today? Am I taking too long in the bathroom? At this last thought, there is a sharp rap on the door. I immediately turn to open the door and exit the bathroom. Entering the bedroom, I approach him to within about 5ft and stop. Standing stock still, feet a shoulders width apart, arms at my sides though slightly away from my body, I await his inspection of me. “Good to see you responding so quickly, slut,” he says as he begins circling me with his appraising eyes raking over bit of my flesh. His circles grow tighter around me. Wondering what his inspection will entail, I can feel his warm breathe on my shoulders. He stops behind me, so close to me and yet not touching me at all. His lips so close to my ear as he whispers, “Bend over, bitch.”
I bend at the waist, making my upper body parallel to the floor. As I am facing away from the foot of the bed, he sits on the bed at the foot. He now has a full view of my ass and pussy. He further instructs me to reach my hands between my legs and spread myself open for him to see. I can actually feel his eyes slowly visiting my every fold of flesh. He further instructs me to continue holding myself open with my left hand and to being fingering myself with my right hand. My back arches slightly as I insert my two middle fingers inside myself. My head comes back as the thought of him watching me completely fills my mind. The hope that he is enjoying causing me to finger myself even harder. My fingers sliding in and out so easily. When I had achieved a really nice rhythm, not so slow but not fast enough to actually risk a real orgasmic build up, he told me to stop. And, to once again, stand erect. As I complied, I heard him rise from the bed. Coming around to face me, the look in his eyes and his small nod of approval told me everything I needed to know.
When he reached out and cupped both of my breasts in his hands, I shivered as chills rolled up and down my spine. His first touch always causes me to react this way. His grip on my breasts was growing tighter and rougher. My breathing was becoming quite ragged by this point. Knowing how his first touch affected me, he often made sure to wait and then make his first touch one of a rougher nature. His hands released their grip as his forefingers and thumbs found my nipples and pulled just a bit. He began rolling my nipples between his fingers and thumbs. His grip hard and his rhythm fast. My hips begin gyrating to his rhythms. I can feel my lips becoming wet and swollen. And, still tried I stand there erect. Becoming fearful, now, that my knees will give out on me. As they become weaker all the while my head begins to spin gently and wonderfully. But, as I already know the punishment if I let me knees give out, I try very hard to concentrate on standing. My thoughts only those of pleasing my master whom I know will not tolerate any movement without being told to move or being physically led by him. And, as likes to do just that, he begins to lead me across the room where I see the footstool awaiting my arrival. This is the last image in my mind before the blindfold is placed over my eyes and all vision is lost to the padded contours of his specially designed blindfold. The contours are designed to fit the face and the padding restricts not only light and vision but, also all movement of the eyelids.
He leads me towards where I know the footstool is resting and tells me to stop. Taking both my wrists behind my back he handcuffs them together. His hands on my shoulders, he leans down and takes the piece of flesh at the apex of my right shoulder and my neck between his teeth. Sucking this skin into his mouth and grinding his teeth together lightly but firmly. My sudden, sharp intake of my breathe was completely involuntary. As was the small whimper that escaped my throat right afterward. When his mouth suddenly releases my flesh, he pushes me solidly to my knees. Laughing softly but more than mischievously, he says, “Same drill, different game. Bend over, bitch.” And, with a chuckle, he puts his hand on the back of head and with just enough force, pushes me onto the top of the footstool. And, there I lay, practically helpless. He soon began wrapping a semi-thin cord of hemp rope several times around my knees and the legs of the footstool. One knee to each leg, respectively. Securing the ropes to his satisfaction, he finished off the knots and l now lay there completely helpless. Completely at his mercy.
The knowledge of my own vulnerability settles in my mind as I lie there wondering what Master is thinking or doing. With the complete absence of light creating a disorientation of time, even benign sounds become foreign and distant. I think I can hear him moving around the room but, how can I be sure? I think I can
