Kneeling in wait header image of the barefoot sub kneeling on a freshly made bed, wearing a scarlet lace body and wrist cuffs, with her long blonde hair flowing

Kneeling In Wait

Kneeling in wait header image of the barefoot sub kneeling on a freshly made bed, wearing a scarlet lace body and wrist cuffs, with her long blonde hair flowing
Photographer: Purple Gecko

Kneeling in wait, my body disgraces itself. For all the cool, calm exterior, inside I’ve turned to jelly. As it soaks my gusset the scent of arousal fills the air. I’m painfully aware that when you enter the room my vapours will greet you, curling tendrils of my lust will welcome you at the door.

But there’s nothing I can do. Prevention is impossible. My fires have been stoked all week and this last five minutes, as I’m kneeling in wait, feel like five days. My poor heart a startling combination of deep thuds within my throat and painfully fast flutters in my chest. The tongue in my mouth feels foreign, too large for the space it inhabits. As my mind slips to worry, about how I’ll worship your shaft with a mouth too small for its permanent equipment, the saliva dries.

Adrenalin takes over, not through fear, it’s excitement. Neither fight nor flight. I’m frozen to the spot. Kneeling in wait, honouring your request to be still. Ready. Patient.

The seconds tick by, each one feeling like 3 minutes. When will you be here? The answer, I know, is exactly on time. Not a moment before, and never late. But time is a slippery concept when you’re kneeling in wait for the one who can set you free.

Lost in the moments, kneeling in wait, I sink slowly into my submission. Settle into that space where only you can reach me. No longer wondering what you have planned, or how I will be of service. My blood coursing through my veins, reminding me of the thunder on my chest.

And then I hear the door crack open, the movement of air as you pull it wide.

I wouldn’t dream of looking up as you take my sight.

“Hello N” comes your voice through the roaring silence in my ears.

I can breathe again…

Yours. Kneeling, but no longer waiting.

The image I’ve shared is a gorgeous photo I created with the talented Purple Gecko Photography. The song is one I heard on a spotify radio mix while camping over the summer. The two together make me think of Sir, of the sensations I feel as I await his arrival. I’m sure I haven’t done those moments justice, but how do you put those feelings into words? Perhaps I shall revisit this post, or the photo, after his next visit.

I’d love to hear what sensations you feel if you are the one waiting? And what about if you’re the one in Sir’s position. How does your anticipation build?

Sinful Sunday

This isn’t the first time I’ve written about Kneeling in Wait. It’s been seven years since we first met and there have been numerous occasions where he has come to me. If you fancy reading about my first time in this position check this post out: Uncover New Passions By Trying new Things.


  1. Kneeling and waiting is intoxicating. The anticipation. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. Every sound in the background sends a shiver down my spine. It’s incredible. Thank you for sharing your picture and your words.

  2. I know that feeling well, but haven’t experienced it as often as I’d like (or should) as of late. It’s quite the rush when that door opens though. The fear you wanted to relent to fades, but the excitement it leaves behind is scarier than the fear ever as.

  3. This is an absolutely stunning picture and that lingerie looks amazing on you. As for waiting and anticipation…. it is such a powerful turn on for me too


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