He held my hand in his, strong and capable, he guided me as always.
I needed the surety of his touch.
I desired it.
I craved it.
I demanded it.
And he allowed it.
His touch kept me alive, sparking with desire and need, and a will to test his boundaries. Within the cradle of his arms, that surety of touch, I flew free even as he locked me in tight.
“A little further.” The deep timbre of his voice propelled me forward, a difficult task while blindfolded, but I didn’t hesitate.
My trust in him sank to the marrow of my bones until he became a part of me. He would never lead me astray, but he would take me into the deepest darkness where I willingly followed. And while my stomach tumbled about, his melodious tone kept me grounded. There was no doubt or insecurity saturating his commands as they so heavily laced my thoughts.
He had a purpose.
One I was not aware of, and yet a fate I willing walked toward, blindfolded, and muted by his commands.
The black silk binding my eyes smothered all light and forced my other senses forward, to play, to feel, to revel in whatever he had planned. Partnered to his dominance, I was his other half, as surely as he was mine.
His grip on my hand tightened. “There’s a set of three steps, my dear. Be careful.”
Not that I would need to be. But I wobbled in my stilettos nonetheless. I wasn’t afraid of the blindness he imposed upon me, rather my entire body trembled with anticipation. The beat of my heart quickened even as my breathing slowed down. My insides tumbled about, terrified and yet so very excited, and I took three steps up.
We traversed an entrance, and then a lobby filled with the subdued murmurs of men. A rich leathery scent filled my nostrils and combined with the smoke of cigars and the light fragrance of perfume. I couldn’t hear the women in attendance, not that I expected to within the confines of the club.
“This way,” he said, drawing me down the echoing stillness of a hall.
So, we weren’t going to the public play spaces. He was leading me to the back, to the private rooms.
My mind spun with possibilities of what he intended, not that I would ever unravel his thoughts. He was a sensualist, his tastes far reaching through and past mere pain or pleasure, I never knew which he would bestow upon me. Whatever his pleasure though, I would endure.
A door squeaked on its hinges and the scent of lemon oil fluttered in the air. I breathed deep, knowing only that I had never been in this room before. The light patter of water to my left could be anything. The thought of him putting me in an immersion tank laced my blood with fear. Breath play was not my favorite. It terrified me, which meant it brought him great excitement. But, my imagination could be out of control. The faint dripping of water could be a simple and decorative fountain existing merely for the ambience it provided.
He led me forward until he commanded me to stop. Only then did he release my hand.
I stayed put, knowing to move was not allowed.
In front of me, the rasping of chain and leather, skated across what I hoped was a table and not something more ominous.
His footfalls moved with determination, no hesitation there, setting up the scene as he desired. A few moments later, and the light brush of his fingers swept across my shoulder. He traced a line down my neck to the uppermost button of the trench coat I had been bundled inside. Underneath, I wore nothing but the marks from early morning play, lines of the cane and stripes from his belt.
What would he add tonight? How would he decorate my flesh?
He released the second button and unwrapped the belt. Disrobing became a sensual act, with the press of his lips to my shoulder, and then to my neck. As he lowered the coat, his tongue swept the curve of my breasts and flicked my nipple into a tight bud of arousal. My womb clenched and pulsed with need. He sucked in my other nipple, lest it feel neglected, then had me rising up on my toes when he clamped down with his teeth. This was but a tease, because I knew without doubt he’d barely begun.
Without warning my world tilted as he swept into his powerful arms and then settled me up the warmth of wood.
Without words, I responded to the commands issued by his hands, stretching out on my back, raising my hands over head, and spreading my ankles to the side. A cool breeze whispered over my skin, a light, tentative touch, it stroked the throbbing between my legs, peaked my nipples into tighter buds, and raised fine hairs all along my body. He fastened cuffs around my wrists and restrained my ankles, the leather creaking as he tightened the cuffs to a snug hold.
His silence had me aching, for something more than his gentle touch, but even that he withdrew, leaving me desperate behind the barrier of the silken blindfold. The faint trickle of water thundered in my ears. But his breath and his steps were no longer sounds I could hear.
A hand touched my thigh and I jumped.
This was not my Master and my heart rate spiked. I would know my Master’s touch. This belonged to a stranger, and I wanted to cry out, to seek reassurance, but I’d been commanded not to speak. I twitched at the touch of someone new. Two sets of hands pressed against my legs, stroking and kneading my muscles. I bit my lower lip, desperate for my Master, and terrified of the strangers’ touch. A fourth, fifth and sixth set of hands swept along my body, massaging my feet, arms, and the soft expanse of my belly.
This was a barrier we had never crossed, allowing others into our play.
Two more sets of hands, strong fingers, splayed against my belly, lightly stroking the swell of my breasts. Another set on my shoulders. How many people touched me now? I had lost track amidst the sensations of so many, and I groaned with frustration, trembled with fear, and desperately tried to decipher my Master’s intent.
I belonged to him. My body only his to command.
Not theirs. And yet, my body heated with desire, an incessant ache building within as they played with my body, drawing out sensations I was not willing to give.
A cascade of touch rolled over me, fleeting light mixed with a heavier massage. I squirmed, never knowing what to focus on, or where the hands would travel next. All the while, something stirred deep in my core, a tightening and pulling. My senses came alight and my desire climbed an impossible wall, falling short with each passing moment.
And then the heat of two mouths settled on my nipples, tongues flicking and sucking with clear intent. I screamed and bucked against my restraints. My shrieks pelted the air, and I raced down a river swollen with desire as pleasure coiled between my legs, throbbing with an insistent need.
But without my Master, I could not come. He’d balanced me on the edge of pleasure where I could seek no release.
I panted and squirmed, pulling against my restraints, trying to escape the torture of so many hands…and those two devilish mouths, heated lips clamped around my breasts and tongues which sent jolts of pleasure surging through my veins.
And then, my back did arch, a scream so primal ripped from my lungs when his tongue, my Master’s tongue, licked my slit and settled on my clit. His touch sent me to a dizzying height. He settled upon me, lapping at my core, devouring me with the roughness of his tongue. He spread me apart, one, then two fingers slipping deep into my folds, dragging against my inner walls until I panted and shuddered with my need. The heat of his mouth covered my clit, sucking and lapping, driving me insane, while his fingers pumped within me.
The others stroked me, hundreds of hands. Scores? Ten? I didn’t even care anymore. My entire body hummed beneath the touch of so many, and the expert precision of the one man who claimed my soul.
He clamped his mouth around me, until my world splintered, fracturing into a cascade of sensation. I broke upon him, shattering against his assault, screaming his name into the silence of the room, my voice melding with the drip, drip, drip of the fountain, until I disappeared, blissfully spent and forever enslaved to one man’s touch.