THE FIRST SCENE, THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE

The first time I saw her she was already mostly naked and sitting back, legs apart, on a bondage table at a kink club. Sure, she wore a corset, black, but her bare breasts lay above it and her nearly shaven pussy lay exposed beneath it. I say 'exposed' but in truth it was attached to a suction device and bridged by two electrical contact pads. She was about to embark on a musical sensory deprivation and stimulation experience at the hand of an associate of mine. I'd heard of this contraption but had never see it in action.

I stood on the sidelines, getting to know another girl who was there for the first time as well. Together we watched. There were lights being fed through her eyelids into her closed eyes. These flashed in sync with the music as it forces electrical pulses under the skin across her clit. And there she lay for perhaps a half hour, pure hotness. She wore the half-corset and wires well!

I wandered, came back, wandered again. For the experience she was having it really wasn't much to look at. There is nothing visual about subcutaneous electricity and while I was lusting after her naked body it was not my scene. I came back right as she was being unhooked. My associate engaged my new friend and, after beckoning me to spank her a couple of times, all but told me to have my way with his first subject.

Our eyes met, we traded but a few words and I was behind her, hand in her hair controlling her head and movements, teasing, touching. My associate's girlfriend participated, touching her as well. I lifted her up and then took her down, me squatting, her weight borne upon my knees, my back to the wall. The scene continued along those lines, my finger stroking and submerged in her moisture, then it ended.

We traded contact information as we effectively spoke for the first time. She had mentioned that she might come to see my art show the next day. My heart rose but I decided that I would do well not to hold my breath. I left with an enormous crush, the parting taste of a small kiss as I walked out the door. Her eyes betrayed her, I could see that she was intrigued. Finally I had met someone compatible with me in many, many ways while in a healthy frame of mind myself. I couldn't wait to see her again.

I got my four hours of sleep and arrived to set up at my art show tired but very happy for the events of the previous night.

Imagine my surprise and delight about six hours later when she contacted me to announce her pending arrival! She arrived at my booth as I had a little trouble accepting that she was actually there! Before she left we agree that we might try to coordinate a scene at the club later that night.

Well, the scene didn't work out as things ran late on my side and she had to leave early to prepare for work the following morning. When morning broke I didn't have to work as it was Memorial Day and we traded messages as I ran errands and did household chores. Finally, I ask a question that invites a more significant reply. We agree to meet for dinner to continue the conversation.

At dinner I show her my hand, I lay my social situation and desires on the table as a gesture of good faith. It's her turn and rather than beating around the bush she looks at me and tells me that she is married. The wind leaves my sales a little bit but it's an open relationship that obviously allowed for excursions like two nights prior. I claim no expectations, let's go with the flow. This makes her very happy, I'm not running away, she really likes me and wants to see what will result.

Upon returning to my place after a wonderful sushi dinner there was nothing to do but to immediately rip each other's clothes off and fuck, two new lovers parched from thirst in a scorching desert stumbling upon, swimming in the chilled waters of an oasis. We kissed, we touched, we explored and consumed each other, savoring each and every moistened drop from the other's lips, each brush of skin, each moment of union. Finally we breathed deep breaths, falling asleep in each other's arms for the night.

We booked a date for Friday night and went our separate ways. Tuesday dragged into Wednesday. One text message arrives, another is sent. "Smile! I'm remembering the contact of your skin on mine, the first contact of our lips, the first unrestrained kiss..." "-- Oh, you are naughty! Sexy as hell and very naughty! I can't stop thinking about the way you look at me, into me, makes me feel naked." ... "-- It's very hard to jerk and text. /squish" "I am listening to the soundtrack to the climax of our next scene." "-- Oh? I saw your face looking down at me when i came".

In truth I WAS at a bar, shooting pool, listening to the soundtrack to the climax of our next scene. I already had a plan, all it needed were details. I gave her an assignment, to write down what she was expecting, what she was feeling, what she wanted from a scene and to send it to me before she arrived on Friday.

Wednesday night is short and only a few hours later I wake up. Opting to prime the day of the big event I fire off a text message to her. "I want to hurt you just to hear you screaming my name". I know where this line is from but she'll have no context for it. Ahhh, invisible foreshadowing! The reply is swift, "-- OMG, you know how to get me all worked up!". It's time to get this rolling even though it's a day away.... "530. Anticipate". The reply of "-- /weak in the knees" lets me know that my plan is already a success.

I have to pull the details together and it has to start with the sound. I already had the climax to my soundtrack and had a pretty good idea about what the main duration of the event would be. "I am preparing for you." I install some software and prepare my mix, choosing a somewhat random song as an intro, assembling the body of the track, adding the conclusion, balancing levels, managing fades and transitions, listening to it over and over again to learn it and know that it was ready and perfect. "-- I will dream of you tonight." "17 hours less five minutes." The countdown has begun. After four hours of work my soundtrack is ready. Her assignment arrives in my email, I read it and go to sleep.

"7 hrs, 5 min"

"-- I feel so impatient"

"....anticipate"

"-- I'm a pretzel"

"fwiw, today is the only time I will ever be able to do this particular scene with you"

"-- awww, that is messed up. You already have my panties in a bunch and I'm not even wearing any"

"all will become clear, after it becomes fuzzy..."

"-- /shivers"

The intrigue builds, I start sending her numbers. "18468" "-- ?" "16668 now". She knows not what they mean.

On Wednesday she had asked if she should bring anything. I had given her an answer and when she'd asked again on Thursday night she had forgotten my reply. I told her that I would not tell her, it was not the time, but that she could ask me on Friday at 1pm during a ten minute window. During that time and that time alone I would answer her. That moment arrives...

"-- What am I forgetting?" "You asked if you should bring anything. I said yes. Your window is closing. Ask quickly, specifically and with proper respect." "-- Please tell me what to bring Sir" "I told you before that I would not tell you, just get it right. Your choice will dictate direction. The window is closed."

"12200" "-- Is that your countdown?" "In seconds" "-- Faster please" "Your skin is already glowing...." "-- yes!"

5320. 2520. 2210. 470. 464. 90. 0. 0.

She has been parked in front of my house, waiting for the clock to strike 5:30. I beckon her in, slightly rushed, slightly less prepared than I'd wanted to be, one major detail unresolved in my mind and that is what should happen first. Well, I knew what had to happen FIRST first, but what would happen following that was still a choice.

As she walked through my door she latched onto me with a gigantic hug. Her lips reached for mine but the turning of my head foiled her efforts. The whisper in her ear informs her her "The next time you touch me the scene is over.." I back away, observing every muscle in her body fighting my rules, a week of anticipation and build up screaming inside, urging her to find release. Locking eyes with her I but smile knowingly, she does not yet know that which is to come....

We walk through my house to the back. I'm still trying to decide what to do. We might go for a walk. Or perhaps a drive in my car for about an hour. In the end I glance upon her eager face and think "fuck it" and lead her back through the house to the Penalty Box, only about ten feet short of the door. I enter first to prepare my last touches and return a moment later, taking her hand and ushering her into the room she has been waiting to experience with every waking breath. My instructions to her are simple: be naked when I get back. I leave the room and shut the door behind me.

Finally I can relax and release a smile, outside of visual range. It has begun.

I re-enter the room moments later as she stands stark naked in front of my cross, looking every bit as tantalizing as when I'd first experienced her. Her eyes track my every movement as I walk around the room, pulling a camera from my pocket to forge a visual memory for her later enjoyment.

Gas masks are strewn around the floor, she lounges back against the cross, almost too casual in her presence. I start my sound creation and stand before her. She springs to attention as some campy Indian pop music fills the air. All I do is stare. The music cuts through harsh static and settles into the sound of a radio not tuned to any station. Another short burst of harsh static and I am perched on a chair in front of her, looking into her eyes.

Three minutes pass. She is melting.

Satisfied with this beginning I whisper my pleasure into her ear and I reach to the wall to acquire a 30-foot piece of top quality hemp rope. I see her excitement, her expression giddy as I walk back towards her. Finally she will feel my touch again! I have her drop her arms to her sides and start to tie. One wrap, two wraps, three, four five! But they aren't around her arms or her legs but rather the cross itself, no attachment to her at all. I complete the tie and let the rope dangle, tied on the cross where her wrist should be. I grab another rope and do the same on the other side, occasionally letting the rope graze her skin but giving her no contact at all myself. My hands moving near and around her body, her eyes never leave my own.

I step back and stare.

Grasping a paper, her written assignment that I had her prepare, I approached her. Making a show of reading her words out loud, throwing her words back at her in praise and appreciation I read:

"Anticipation is an emotion involving pleasure and sometimes anxiety in considering some expected or longed-for good event, or irritation at having to wait.

pleasure, anxiety, weakness, excitement, wetness, euphoria...

We don't know each other well yet, and already I trust you on a level that usually takes more time to achieve. I still feel cautious. Nervous about offering myself physically, mentally, emotionally. I am afraid. There is always the fear that you will not know when to pull back. That in your own euphoria you will push me too far. That is exciting. I long to please you, to be your play thing, your puppet. I imagine complete surrender to your will.

I appreciate how much you have thought about making me feel safe... and unsafe. I want to thank you in advance for the energy and preparation you have put into this. Into me. I feel your excitement and it makes me wet. I can feel the gap between us narrow. I can hear your voice and breath in my ear. I feel your body on mine. Your eyes cut deeply into me, leaving me open to this experience. Your intentions twist in my mind. I can feel you pushing me down... into you, into my self. You make me feel vulnerable, exposed, small... naked. I let you in, but you make me feel this way. You have my attention. I am yours."

I back away and wait.

Approaching again I stroke her hair, finally, THIS is it! But it is not... She does not feel my touch but is instead slightly startled when a blade emerges from my hand, attached to the knife I had concealed. The blade passes over her skin but never touches it. Over her cheek, down her neck, across her chest, teasing her nipples.... but still nothing. Moving up her side and towards her center the tip of the knife grazes her breast. Now she is at attention! But no contact...

We have been in the Penalty Box for fourteen minutes and it feels like forever.

One toy in my collection, my tomcat, is amazing in its precision when wielded by a comptetant hand. The impact zone of a good tomcat strike is about two inches square. The impact zone of an intentional near-miss is zero. Once again, nothing is all she gets to feel. The tomcat breathes air on her breasts as it flies past, teases her pussy with its presence. It glances the ends of her hair providing YET another contact but not the one she craves. The hybrid flogger-whip snaps in front of face, making her jump. Back and forth, back and forth, swirling in a traditional figure-eight motion, all she feels is air.

Breathing deeply I drop the tomcat and remove my top shirt, left wearing a black muscle shirt on top of my khaki pants. I move in close and whisper more words into her ear. She can feel my heat but she cannot have me.

She hears:

"my cruel device, my blood like ice, one look could kill, your pain, my thrill. You want to love me but you better not touch. You want to hold me but your senses tell you to stop. I want to kiss you but you want it too much... your mouth, so hot. my web, you're caught, your skin, so wet, i taste your sweat. I hear you calling and it's needles and pins, i want to hurt you just to hear you screaming my name, i want to touch you cuz i'm under your skin, deep in. I don't wanna break these chains."

She floats away.... she holds back..... she wants to feel me, so close, right there, but all she feels is my warm breath on her neck leaving her aroused and wanting.

A mere nineteen minutes have passed.

What now? What could the next round bring? I walk over to the suitcase by the wall and return with something in my hand, shielded from her view. I plug it in.

My hand shakes as I flip the switch and the magic wand comes alive. I know she knows what it is. I suspect she’s been on the receiving end of one before. But not mine, not like this. Looking into her eyes I stand before her and raise the wand up between her legs. I can feel the vibration, a couple thousand oscillations per minute and I want to touch her, but I don’t. The hum of this orgasm machine hovering right over her dripping wet pussy, she wants it too!

I drop down before her and ram the wand into my other hand, changing the sound. If she’s used this before then she knows the sound of contact, the feeling that the audible shift implies. Still, it’s not on her. I tease her a little more and then stand up again, taking in the sight of her naked quivering body. This is going well!

Setting the wand down I pick up the tomcat again and toss a couple of throws near her face. The first throw blows air across her shoulder, the second pops her hair off to the side. A few more swings and I reach for what might be the most vicious toy I own: my singletail whip.

I’m not sure if in her haze she know what I have acquired but she finds out soon enough as I crack it two feet above her head and the sonic shockwave floods the room! She jumps and catches her breath, thrilled, scared, trusting. I snap some medium throws to either side of her and then again move in close. I know that the closer I am the harder it has to be for her. She wants to feel the whip, she wants to feel the tomcat but she wants nothing more than to feel my own touch caressing her skin. My breath on her cheek again, the end of the whip pushing her hair off her face. So close, she can feel my influence but not my skin.

Her eyes flutter, then close, then come awake again in a terrified start as I step back and break the sound barrier again with the whip. An evil, satisfied grin creep upon my face and she sees it. I throw the whip off to the side and approach her again.

She is melting. She cannot move but it kills her to stay still. She seems resolved to her fate of longing but her eyes plead with me to lift this curse of distance. I whisper words of praise and reassurance into her ears, blowing heat and presence with them.

“—Please can I touch you?”

I deny her request as I grab the chair and again set it in the middle of the room, facing her. Again I perch, sitting on the back of the chair with my feet on the seat.

Twenty eight minutes have passed.

I stare, she does not break my gaze.

Twenty nine minutes.

The soundtrack plays. The singing bowls of Tibet provide a lovely, dreamy backdrop to our scene but it’s hard for me to gauge how far along we are. I’ve mixed in the industrial music but with subtlety. Here and there the sound of a woman moaning. Here and there, ha! Right before me!

I have spent so long looking directly into her eyes that I haven’t noticed six inches of excitement that have slowly hung down from her womanhood. It’s time for her to know that I know that she knows that I know how much this is turning her on. Stepping off the chair towards her I reach down and thrust a finger between her legs, arcing a liquid-solid string between my hand and her pussy. I won’t touch her but that doesn’t mean that she can’t feel herself so I lift my hand up and run her flow across her chest and up onto her breast. The humiliation almost balances her arousal and I can see her blush and try to sink farther into the cross.

I’m in her face, breathing, touching her hair. I step back and pace, stalking the room only to find her exactly where I left her. Again I pull in close, again she thinks that this is the time I will touch her. After all, how many times can I repeat something the same or similar? She’s wrong again, I have all of the patience in the world. I know what’s coming, she can only guess.

Three minutes I stand before her, looking at her, breathing in her energy, breathing into her an air of longing and impatience. I raise my hands and cup them over her breasts, so close that she feels the heat radiating on her skin, far enough as to not touch. There is a glow between us and for the first time it becomes hard for me to respect my own boundaries, I want to close my fists and close my fingers into her breasts, satisfying my own desire and making her squirm.

Instead I repeat this process with her sides and then her face. I want to touch those parts too but it’s easier to hold back. My heat slides up her cheek and I brush her hair.

Only thirty five minutes, yet two centuries have passed! I sit down on the chair and watch her.

A minute passes and I tell her to kneel before me on the mat, she does. I am so tempted to put my hard cock in her face, to have her open her mouth and know that I was inside but I did not feel that either of us would be able to resist THAT contact and I would be forced to prematurely end the scene. No, I had a plan and I would see it through.

The industrial beats suddenly build through the drones and build to a frenzy. They cut out quickly. They return. The room is alive.

My lips lunge for hers and stop a quarter inch out. She exhales and I visibly inhale. When I exhale she follows my lead and takes her life breath straight out of my mouth. Another breath, then a third. After seven I move closer, if that is possible, and cock my head, threatening her with the kiss she would kill for.

Forty minutes have passed.

The bowls suddenly fade and a bass tone fills the room, shattering the looming kiss. I stand up and walk to the door, flipping the light switch and plunging the room into darkness. A guitar plays as I blindly move to the back corner of the room and turn on a strobe light.

The music, the flashing lights, they scream of prolonged non-touch torture and yet I daresay we both feel a reprieve from the forty minutes of light and near non-activity that have just passed. Somehow the new presence of intensity is incredibly relaxing. I have her stand up and move back to the cross.

"Your cruel device, Your blood, like ice, One look could kill, My pain, your thrill….” The same words, this time sung with the original, unaltered pronouns and no longer my voice. She is still waiting, now thinking that I will never touch her again in my life, but as the voice proclaims “I want to taste you but your lips are venomous poison” my lips find hers and my fingers slide up the back of her head beneath her hair. She struggles to kiss me as she struggles to breathe. This time she doesn’t mind when I pull back and stare into her eyes.

Forty one and a half minutes have passed.

My fingers reach down between her legs and slide into her wetness as I kiss her again, relief and screaming release simultaneous in the contact. Hands still in her hair I spin her around and bend her over onto the cross. My other hand fiddles at my waist and in a moment she feels my shaft teasing her thighs.

“Spread your legs!” She does.

Two minutes later the soundtrack is complete but our carnal pleasure is not, the music replaced by her animal grunts and gasps. Our bodies create our own rhythm, accented by the sound of my hand spanking her bouncing ass. A short organic symphony ensues.

After a couple more minutes I pull back and spin her around. “Take off my socks. Take off my pants.” She complies. Forty nine minutes have passed.

As we stand I hold her close for a moment before putting her back on the cross, facing away from me. I restart the music on random, slow down the strobe light and once again reach for the tomcat. As before, I do not miss my mark. This time, however, my mark is on her skin. She shivers under the contact, the sting, each impact amplified by hundreds before it that failed to connect. I’m certain she has never been flogged by strobe light before and with one brief flash every three quarters of second we are in far more darkness than it appears. Still, I’m an athlete and I could hit my mark with my eyes closed.

When I move in towards her she knows that this time there will be contact, and there is. Grabbing her hair again (what a fantastic handle) I spin her so that she faces me. Still by strobe I pop the tomcat on her skin, hitting one breast then the other, occasionally striking her pussy or side for good measure.

Fifty three minutes.

I pull her off the cross and hold her. I hold her close, I hold her tight. I hold her.

She heeds my unspoken direction as I lower her to the ground and raise her legs up to my sides. I re-enter her. Despite some wonderful, mind blowing movements time stops. Slow, fast, it’s all the same with no passage of time. We were then and never and always rolled into one.

One hour, one minute.

Under the flash of the strobe light I saw more shadow than skin, even as I knew it intimately. With a pull I move her on top of me, her body silhouetted by the strobe as it moved up and down, rocking both our worlds. We were never and always. And then we were at the end of the world.

I explode.

I have no idea what to expect when i approach your door. Nor do I want to taint this with any expectations. I only want to offer myself to you. I come to you with raw, intense anticipation. I admit my reservation, my fear. You allow me to enter with one instruction, "Do not touch me. If you do, the scene ends." My heart sinks. I believe this will be impossible for me to obey.

I watch you enjoying my struggle with this rule. This torture makes me instantly submissive to you. (please touch me. i beg you to touch me, in my thoughts) You lead me to a room and instruct me to disrobe. I obey.

You stare at me, through me. (please touch me) You instruct me to hold my arms up, though you do not restrain me. This heightens my anxiety about not being able to touch you. You approach me, walk away, approach, move away, sit, stare... Each time you come near, you tease me with the heat from your hands, your body, your hot breath on me, but you do not touch me.. (please! this is so cruel!)

I hear the knife. I see it in your hand. I feel it move over my body even though it does not meet my skin. Your face is so close to mine. We breath each other in. (i can't take any more, please!) I want to touch you so fucking bad and I'm about to fail you. You move away again. Time slips away, and I fall further.

You reach for what's running down my thighs, and mock my excitement. Darkness. Strobe flashes. The image of you snaps open and closes again. Spinning. Your flogger cracks close to my flesh, then recedes into nothing again and again leaving only more anticipation. I'm lost. (please let me touch you)

The tension is so hard to take, I might cry.. You come close. The tiny fragment of consciousness that is left in me disintegrates as you start to touch me. It's hard to believe you are actually touching me. Fucking me. You are inside me. Inside my mind, fucking me...

I am yours.

We spent the rest of the night relaxing in each other’s arms, basking in the afterglow of an amazing scene, a divinely natural connection and fantastic sex.

The next day was more of the same, enjoying each other’s presence, spending time. I wouldn’t mention that I taught her how to play poker except that it’s more relevant than it seemed at the time. After working through the mechanics of the game I informed her that poker was only real poker when something was at stake. I could not bear to take her money immediately and suggested we find alternative stakes, I left it up to her.

“A lap dance.” It was decided.

I am a skilled poker player and I will not use this space to justify my play. Suffice it to say that different approaches are required for new players than against other experienced players and I did not make this adjustment. I pushed all of my remaining chips into the pot in a bold semi-bluff. Very much to my surprise she called and when the hand was over she had won.

It had occurred to me, but only in an amusing way, that I might lose the bet. And with a sinking feeling in my stomach I turned to acknowledge defeat, terrified to offer up her prize. I had never in my life performed a lap dance although I had received a couple in my day. Men, however, move differently than women do and I was at a loss. Once in my life I had seen a male dancer, I would take as much inspiration from that as I could muster. She asked for her prize and I am one to pay my debts, it would have to occur.

Nervous more than I have been at any other occasion in the past several years I asked if I could have a few minutes to prepare. This she granted me.

I put on my ipod and starting searching for a song that would be the tune to my death-by-embarrassment. Billy Idol registered on my radar but in the end I settled for the arousing voice of an Icelandic oddity, choosing Bjork’s “Army of Me”.

I changed into something a little more fitting for a lap dance and then ushered her into the room our last adventure had taken place in. I turned on the strobe light again. One thing that I had learned through past experience in undertaking new ventures is that success is far more likely when you commit yourself to the cause and don’t hold back. I would believe that I could do this and I would own it. Hesitation was death, confidence would be a win.

Dying to myself, I hit play.

I was dressed in a shiny black shirt and black leather pants. I took the liberty of adding Swiss tanker goggles to the look. This wasn’t going to just be a lap dance, but a striptease as well!

I moved to in front of her. Unlike the previous night I knew that I could engage her this time and that this touch would go a long way. I danced around her and on her, sitting on her lap, teasing her with hints of a touch. I removed my shirt.

Some more dancing, some more grinding, moving my hips to the music, nervous at the start, becoming increasingly more confident with each passing second, I stripped to some black silk boxers. Moments later those found their way to the pile by the door.

The song ended but I was not done. I don’t remember exactly which song came next but it was more Bjork and any sound that woman utters is enough to invite orgasm, I was in the zone. At this point in the act there was more touching. I can grope, I can entice. I crawl up onto her body and take her shirt off. I’m all over her, dancing, writhing, lusting.

The dance is over and it was amazing! Now I can be me again….

I'm convinced I will lose our bet. I steal all your chips and it's time for you to fess up.

It's your turn to be nervous. It's your turn to be naked for me. It's my turn to have you with my eyes. Once again I'm not allowed to touch you, but I don't need to. This time I know you will touch me. I'm so excited!

When the strobe starts flashing and I hear the song you have chosen, a huge smile slides across my face. I'm glued to you as you tease me with your body and slip out of your clothing. You lied to me. You said you couldn't dance. What a fantastic tease.

By the end of the song, your nervousness has dissipated and you continue to dance for me. I'm so distracted by this. I'm shocked when I realize you have your cock between my tits. I'm enjoying your show so much, I'm speechless. All I can do is sit back and stare.

No lap dance will ever compare to this one. You are so fucking sexy in nothing but goggles! I want to eat you and I think to myself... you are mine.

She has a thing for gas masks and immediately she is wearing one. I still have my goggles on so it seems fitting. Unlike last night, this time when I reach for my ropes they are going on her body.

I tie her hands behind her back and tie a shibari chest harness onto her. This binds her arms to her sides and pinches her breasts vertically. She is soooo comfortable in my rope!

One of the major benefits of tying someone up is that they now have handles. Naked but for my goggles, her naked but for the gas mask and my rope, I stand at her front, grab the rope at her back and spank her ass. Over and over, she resists but she loves it. No no no, more more more!!!

When we had met I had told her that her gas mask fetish would lend itself well to another new experience and she was quick to collect on that. I set her up against the cross and grabbed my singletail. She didn’t have to worry about keeping her hands out of the way, they were bound behind her. A few breast shots, a couple stomach shots, and I pop one off the front of the mask! Truly she had never been whipped in the face before! It’s a little hard to hear her under both the mask and Bjork but the whimpers are divine!

A few more minutes of the whip and I spin her around to face the cross. Reaching down between her legs I grab her pubic bone from behind and lift her off the ground. She gasps. The strobe light distorts the colors but I can see under my spanking that her ass is getting red. I bend her over and slide her onto my hard cock just long enough to tease her.

Grabbing the rope I throw her around the room, controlling her movements, keeping her safe but completely disorienting her. I lay her over my knee and spank her some more.

Yes, now it’s my turn. I take her mask off and push her to her knees. When her eager lips surround my cock it is for the first time ever. I ask her if she’s wet yet. She doesn’t reply. I ask again but her brain has stopped working. A meek and near-silent “I don’t know” is her only reply. I know it is though, it has to be if I know her at all.

I stand her up and spin her around again, grabbing the ropes behind her back and aggressively fucking her from behind. She has no balance, she can only trust me not to let go. She is lost but I have found her.

I ask her to tell me what’s going on. I know she knows but she can’t speak a word. I ask again. Somewhere there might be someone able to translate the sounds she made but it’s not me. Nonetheless, I didn’t really need to be told what was going on now did I?

Taking hold of her rope harness from the front, right between her breasts, I throw her around again, inviting wonder that she migth fall, all the while promising to take care of her.

I have her again.

I know you didn't ask me to write anything about our scene after your fabulous lap dance, but I wanted to say something. It was magnificent!

I know you wanted to fish some words out of me. In that moment I could not give them to you even though they were there. That is something I can work on. You are right, you should take my silence as a compliment.

You have tapped into something inside me. I have never been that deep in subspace before.

Yes I've participated in BDSM for many years, but you are clearly more experienced than I. You pushed me to a level I've not been before. Thank you. I feel honored that you are sharing this with me.

New connections, new breath, new life.