Open your mouth only if what you are going to say is more beautiful than the silence

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A week before my birthday I had an interesting email from Sir. He intimated that it was his birthday and asked me to write a scene for his celebration. He would be free mid-week, and I had 24 hours to come up with something great for him.

How could I come up with something to make him feel as special as he made me feel? 

I had a lot of ideas going around in my head, and sent him a scenario that I enjoyed when I read through before sending. I proposed a strip tease, massage and worshipping his body, all without the blindfold. I had suggested I would still not be allowed to look at him, unless invited to. All I wanted was to look in his eyes, show him the burning fires of my soul, and having the blindfold just made them burn hotter and brighter. The thought of having the ability to look up into his face, but having to keep my eyes averted still makes my body react in a most curious way, over 3 years later.

He had other plans though, and they didn’t involve me regaining my sight

I was summoned on the Thursday, the same hotel, the same routine. Skirt, no knickers and heels. Catching my breath outside his room wasn’t getting any easier, but falling into his scent was like coming home. On goes the blindfold…. Fixing my collar in place his hands were all over me, his touch calming me. The inspection and reclaiming of my body, followed by gradually discarding my clothes. I could hear them being tossed aside, the sound of them falling to the floor magnified by the blindfold. As much as I craved looking up into his face while he was buried in mine, the lack of sight continued to add to my experiences, etching memories in my mind in an unexpected way. He started to work me over with his wand. Please Sir and he stopped everything No. That was the first time he had done that, not allowed me to orgasm. Huh?? I had known I wouldn’t always receive orgasms but this was a surprise….

Jiggling the nipple clamps he waited a moment and started working me again.

This time it felt different, a little prickly almost. Was that because I was so aroused and hadn’t been allowed to climax? Was my poor submissive brain totally spent already, confused into feeling sensations in a new way? As I asked again I was given permission and as I moaned with pleasure I felt something….and heard a noise I never expected to come from my mouth. Was it a yelp? A shriek? I have no idea, but he had zapped me as I came. As I peeled myself off the ceiling, and reached orgasm again the same thing happened! Ok, yes…..he had discovered in me a love of electricity… that extreme sensation which made me laugh and shriek. Or yelp. Or whatever that noise was!

He said that this was my birthday present

It was certainly the best gift I got that year. Not only was it ridiculous fun being rendered utterly helpless to his torment with this crazy sensation, but he had helped me find my voice. I am a very quiet lady, moans and gentle requests but nothing louder, even when begging for release. Hearing these noises coming from my mouth, my mouth, was more of a shock than those which came out of this wand. How had he known that I could be this loud? Was it just a lucky guess or was there sorcery afoot?

Never one to let me settle into a routine he soon changed things around.

He was constantly stretching me, pushing  me forward down this road, and as he lay me on the bed and strapped my ankles over my head I was physically and emotionally vulnerable. As he filled me with vibrations he seemed to enjoy the pleasure and discomfort that he had chosen for me; every word he spoke seemed to be accompanied with humour or a smile, and though I will never know for sure he has always been an advocate of If it isn’t fun what is the point? 

Was it the new toy, or what the toy represented which made the best birthday gift?

From the first contact he had been making it safe for me to stretch my wings, helping me to learn to fly and setting me on the path to being the woman I am today. As I was bound in this new and stressful position I could feel more of the vanilla bonds that I had put in place as a 20-year-old searching for “normal” slipping away. Rather than blindly rushing into this dynamic, for the first time in many years I had my eyes open.

I knew that Sir had hold of my hand, and slowly, carefully, he was taking me on a journey of discovery.

 

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