Part 3. Longing

My Deepest Fantasy

 

 

Part 3. Longing

 

        The blindfold wasnt tight, but I still didnt want to open my eyes.......it had been awhile now since he went out this time and the sweat had dried and trembling had again subsided. For days , all nite .....about every hour he had come in and awoken me.....ravaged me for ten minuites or so and left without finishing. He started slowly and quietly as I slept, calmly arousing with small touches .....so as not to startle me . The blindfold was first... ..then he quietly cuffed my wrists and ankles......clipped them to the shackles at each corner of the bed. and finally a small chain clipped to my collar........held my head in place.......up against the headboard. Then he resumed........touching me everywhere....hands all over me.......faster and faster.....all over me rubbing , touching .....pulling and I was wanting him so bad now.........then inside me and it was him there....inside pumping away and I was breathing heavier and sweating with him......more and more.....Then he just stopped.......suddenly as if a little alarm had gone off in his head got up and went out. Leaving me there groaning and writhing like a beast. .........

       By this time , just the sound of the opening door andI started to sweat. On fire inside me now wanting him so much .....I felt like an animal....instincts raging unstoppable......I didnt understand at first what he was doing but as these days went by I knew. He was making me crave him. And when he was finally thru , I wanted to explode with him. Just hearing the door click open made me start sweating again.

     I wondered how long it had been since it started. How many months was it now that I had been here. If I could go back , would I? This man who kept me ......here..now all this time........he was my God now. Everything I was surrounded with , made up of him. There wasnt anything I needed more in this world than him. To be inside me. I didnt need anything else. I considered that I might be a little brainwashed. I always said, put a c**k in front of my face and Im blind as a bat. But this was different. This was more than my libido screaming . Or was it, I couldnt even tell anymore.I really needed him. Craved him. Every day I waited for him, To bring my meals. To take me to bathe. I belonged to him.

    But wasnt it exactly the way Id imagined it , all this time, All the stories I wrote about it. It was like I was putting it out there. Seeing if anyone of my readers actually had the balls to go thru with it. I never thought any of them would. I never considered that one of them might actually decide to take me. Take me and have me for his own. Keep me. Covet me and put himself before me , and like my God he knew I would worship him.

     It was so natural to me. My submission. Although I never really believed that I would really submit someday. Give up all my power to a man. That wasnt realistic in my world. It sounded nice but it was them who were always at my feet. I got so sick of being patronized all the time, I considered being a lesbian for better understanding for a time, but couldnt relate to the unstable , neurotic ways of the females I knew. Plus the main reason, I couldnt live with out a c**k nearby. A nympho without one is truly in misery. Now things were so different. I didnt think I would ever crave another man, I couldnt. I didnt want to even consider anothers hands on me now, He made sure of it.

To Be Continued ...M

Reviews

[Pax Analog]

Bondage and submission can be made holy. With the sharp polarization of power, comes responsibility, and the sub is as much in charge as the Dom. It has often struck me how this ritualized dynamic could be shamanic, and profoundly spiritual, if the participants were mature enough to realize the potential of the sensual, sexual psychodrama. That's what a lot of people don't understand about this (as you know, it has nothing to do with degradation really) -- the mature motivation is not unlike a brooding black and white film noir, to etch the chiaroscuro deeper. Stark emphases. Of course colors emerge in the neurosphere as a result of this paradoxical limiting.

Your piece and your awareness are beautifully erotic and soulful.