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Forum Category: Erotic Stories
  
  Topic
 Originator Date Posted 
   The Basement; Part 1  

CHESTERFIELD, MI
4/29/2009 19:47
Posted By:  - CHESTERFIELD, MI  
 
Date Posted: 4/29/2009 19:47
   Warm skin, cold metal. The contrasting sensations sent a chill down the length of my body. Connected by carabiners, the black leather cuffs around my ankles and wrists were securely braced to spreader bars positioned behind the drainage pole. The metal pole ran from the basement ceiling down through the basement floor. Shifting my stance from side to side was all the movement allowed by this composition. I wore a shiny, black vinyl waist cincher that zipped in the front and laced in the back with high heels and black leather collar. I was required to dress in the upstairs Master bedroom and wait atop the Master bed on hands and knees until He came for me. From the Master bedroom I would be led blindfolded down two flights of stairs using His voice and steady hand as my guide. Through my blindfold I could sense that the basement was dim but not quite dark. A late winter afternoon cast shadows through the thick block windows, just enough light not to require candles. The sensual, undulating sounds of my favorite cd was nearby, drowning any audible clues that might offer a preconception of what the evening held for me.

Mental suspension, a metaphysical free-fall of sorts, this is how I would describe the initial feelings evoked by submission. Partly granted, partly imposed, a constant dance of emotion and body. When executed well, it is beautiful in its power to heal hidden wounds and release guarded desires. When executed poorly, it is tragically damaging to the same. This evening would be well played, a crescendo of erotic steps leading to the explosive display of passion and carnal lust. I didn't realize how much my body hungered for Him. I had allowed myself to set aside the painful longing for His Dominance. We had long since settled into a vanilla existence out of necessity. With a young child sharing what was once our sexual playground it was inevitable that we would be submerged into a period of adjustment before we could find a way to add back the pieces of fetish life we had previously enjoyed.

Perched against the pole I could sense the room around me; the position of the television, furniture and the staircase. He had left shortly after securing me to the metal pole. It seemed as though nearly a half hour had passed before He made His appearance again. I heard His descent down the stairs and resisted the urge to turn my face toward the sound. The simple act might imply too much cognizance; too little surrender, and might bring increased sensory deprivation in the future. There have been times, in days past, when I was subject to total sensory deprivation. Bound, blindfolded and deafened (or at least sound muffled to the degree of disorientation), held in place as the chosen toy and used as He desired. Time suspended and vulnerabilities splayed, reminded alternately through pleasure and pain that my body was His to enjoy.

"Open." The single word command to allow Him to push the rubber gag ball inside my mouth. Bitter and pungent against my lips and tongue the gag ball was almost burning inside my mouth. Soon the incessant drooling would begin, which was almost a relief from the acridity of the rubber. The gag ball was slightly too large for my jaw making it impossible to swallow. The touch of His fingers against my nipples offered a much welcome distraction from the growing discomfort in my mouth. His touch was soft to begin, escalating to a tug and pinch of my nipples. His hand sliding under and over my breasts as if tracing them to His memory. From there His touch disappeared only to reappear on my inner thigh. I found myself mentally following His touches, trying to anticipate His next. Losing the mental image of the room, the sound of the music, the discomfort of the metal pole and the taste of the rubber between my teeth.

His touches grew increasingly insistent as his fingers caressed and squeezed my body. They softly teased my labia before parting the moist folds commandingly. He towered over me. I could sense that He was watching my every move. The subtle flexing of my toes, the tightened grip of my fingers on the spreader bar, He missed nothing. He knew the effect He was having on my body. This was His game. As a Master sculptor probes and molds His clay bringing forth the hidden life within, His touch reignited me and I again became His captive, hungry animal. I could smell his lust. His powerful frame only inches from my body, I could feel his heat. Plunging His fingers deep inside my pussy elicited a guttural moan from my drooling mouth. I could imagine the sight of me; streams of saliva pouring down my chin, my body swaying and arching in response to the finger fucking He was subjecting me to. My wanton behavior growing more desperate as I neared orgasm. However, as was His way, I would not be allowed release quite so quickly.

Abruptly His fingers were pulled away. A whimpering sound of disappointment and arousal escaped from behind the gag ball, to which immediately earned me a firm slap across my face. "I see we've forgotten our manners, haven't we?" Startled by the sting upon my cheek and the stern tone in His question, I was caught somewhere between swooning arousal and shocked sadness. I lost sight of the "rules of engagement" in the midst of my impending orgasm. The intricate ebb and flow in a D/s dance, the overt and subtle surrender of mind, will and body. It had been so long since we had played this delicious game of kink. My pussy was greedy as it sucked and saturated His fingers and I was audibly and visibly pouting when my pleasure was suspended. "Perhaps we need to remind you of who truly is in charge?" I drew in a deep, ragged breath at the words. I felt both excitement and fear at the prospect of just how he may refresh my memory. He worked deftly to release the spreader bars from the metal pole, pulling me less than gently forward by the bar that held my wrist cuffs. Hobbling clumsily to keep pace with Him, stopping somewhere nearer to the middle of the room, He raised the spreader bar high above my head and secured it to a chain attached to the ceiling. As quickly as my arms were suspended above me, my ankle cuffs were latched to rings anchored to the floor. The lower spreader bar was removed and I found myself stretched widely in the form of a "Y". My leg muscles flexed and strained in this position. The ceiling chain wasn't long enough to allow my feet to lay flat on the floor. The chain jingled ominously above me as my weight switched from one foot to the other. A chill swept over my body as I became acutely aware of the wetness that had pooled between my legs. My breasts and stomach were also wet from the incessant saliva that dribbled from behind the gag ball. If I had forgotten my place in our game I was soon to be strongly reminded.









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