SubmissivePosted: December 4, 2015
It begins with the hunger, the ache.
She had probably felt it for days. Maybe longer. He wasn’t sure.
He had felt it as well. For weeks.
The need for intensity.
He didn’t know she was feeling it also.
So he began gently. Touching her. Teasing her. Removing her clothes.
Light touches. Caresses. Tingling skin beneath dancing fingers, lips and tongue.
Her hunger for intensity grew.
She, quietly whispering, asked for more.
Submissive, yet fully in control.
He went to her closet.
“Don’t use my good scarves, use the orange one.”
He retrieved the orange as well as three others.
Wrists too tightly secured to the headboard.
Each ankle bound.
Wispy blue blindfold over her eyes.
She was helpless and he was captivated by the sight.
He reached to the bedside drawer and removed tools of pleasure/pain she enjoyed.
She felt the pulse of one. Against her. Teasing her.
Then she felt the delicate chain. On her skin. Sliding over her wetness.
He affixed the clamps firmly. She gasped.
Then, he left, returning with a few more items.
She lifted her hips as he slid a towel beneath her.
He knew she realized what was happening.
She felt the warm, soapy water as his cupped hand poured.
The delicate but deliberate touch of the blade.
The sight of the ritual enticed him. Seeing her completely exposed. Giving herself over to him. Touching her in the most intimate way possible.
He teased her with the razor, the vibrator, his fingers as he worked.
Once she was clean, he dried her with the towel.
He kissed her deeply then moved his lips down her body.
When they were done, she curled fetally against him, her head cradled against his chest.
“I love that you hold me after” she said, eyes closed.
He kissed the top of her head and pulled her more tightly into him.