I like being handled. I particularly like being handled when I’m blindfold. For someone who would not be considered particularly tactile, this is a recent and surprising revelation. I guess it’s the feeling of releasing myself into the control of another, coupled with the inevitable shift in focus from whatever irrelevance was filling my head to the physical, to the corporeal. A shift from the world of logic and argument to a world of sensation and stimulation.
Elita was certainly handling me. She was handling me with confidence and skill; fixing cuffs to wrists and ankles, positioning limbs on the bed, restraining them with rope. My tensions ebbed away as she took control of me and I revelled in the unhurried pace of the session.
After a while she sat back to admire her handiwork and to allow me to experience it. I was blindfold so could only feel what she had done to me rather than see it. I realised that she had me in a classic predicament bondage situation. My hands were tied to my ankles in a way that gave me a choice between discomfort in my shoulders or discomfort in my knees. I moved my weight backwards and forwards, trying to get comfortable. I failed.
She progressed. Pain started to figure alongside restraint; nipple clips, making me breathe fast at first then becoming a familiar, even welcome, sensation. My cock and balls were tied tightly, my cock swelling against the rope. It’s painful this, but for me the feeling of being hard, gloriously, powerfully hard dominates. Some deft, unseen work with rope and knots and a new layer of predicament bondage was introduced. Now I could only relieve the pain in my nipples by moving in a way that increased the pressure on my swollen cock and my tight, so tight, balls.
She watched me for a while, as I made small movements trying to find a comfortable place. I failed again.
I moaned slightly as discomfort became hurt, hurt became pain and pain eventually became real challenge. Just when I felt I might be getting on top of the pain she introduced a new level of sensation. Elita had found an anal probe for her electrostim machine! “Tell me when you feel it” she said. I did but she turned it up some more till she sensed I was near my limit. Sharp edged waves of electricity emanated from that most private of places.
Layers of discomfort. Layers of sensation. Layers of pain.
Movement, any movement only transferred the focus of the pain from one point to another, yet sometimes I had to move if it became too intense in one place. I started to lose myself in it, drowning in sensations, letting myself go. This was perfect for my particular brand of masochism; being forced to give myself up utterly; give myself up to the bondage, give myself up to the sensations; give myself up the mistress. I didn’t even mind that I was still blindfold, was denied the visual feast that she represents. I could feel her presence, the sense of her touch was amplified, adding to the incredible intensity, sucking me in deeper. When eventually she allowed me to come I exploded in a huge orgasm that took over my whole body, shaking it again and again.
Having failed to orgasm in our previous session, the sense of relief was phenomenal.
Predicament bondage is a whole new world. My first visit was amazing.
I sense I’ll be back.