I was blindfolded when she walked into the room. I’m still blindfolded. No words have been spoken. Our only communication has been through her whip and her cane.
It was challenging, this sensory deprivation; a darkness broken only by the piercing lightning strikes of pain as her cane landed again and again.
The rewards came later: the endorphin induced boundless calm; the feeling of having been tested and survived; the rather wonderful realisation that Mistress Elita, who had departed just as wordlessly as she had arrived, had also been moved by the session. She sent me a wonderful letter in which she described her feelings.
More, though perhaps less sensory deprived, sin here: