“I was gonna go and get the purple strap on maybe . . . but not if you don’t think it’s a good idea . . .” she moaned, watching the tortured expression on my face. She knew that was one of my favorite toys! I took a few deep breaths in and out to keep my control.

Oh my god, she teased me so badly! She even tied up my wrists, and looped the end of her silk rope under the headboard to keep me there! I couldn’t even rebel if I wanted to! And that always had me wishing I had rebelled earlier, but then knowing that I’d always rather obey my beautiful Mistress. I get so conflicted in those times, but then when I’m fully tied up and she’s done with her handiwork, I enter this different state of mind completely. It’s not about wanting to escape or giving her my permission. I just belong to her, and my entire body relaxes. It’s like the room is spinning, but in the most electric way that gives you a natural high. Just like when I go for a long run, the rush I feel after is very close to the rush I feel all tied up for her, handing myself over to her. Going freely. I relax every muscle in my body, and I’m absolutely hers.

I know she can sense that shift too, because she doesn’t really tease me like that. She often whips my thighs a little, or my abdomen or breasts . . . just enough to leave my skin pink or a little darker . . . but this time she took the chain between her teeth, and then leaned closer down to me, and kissed me. I breathed in through my nose as she pushed her tongue into my mouth, and dropped the chain between my lips. Sweet lord, I don’t know how I survive her torment sometimes . . . it’s too sensational, too electric to come back from, I would think.

It’s hard to explain the soft blanket of the darkness we experience together, but it’s so comforting that we feel even more connected than usual. It’s a high, it’s a desire, and it’s perfection.

“Just tell me if it gets a little too rough for your liking . . .” she smirked, knowing how much I got off on the idea of her taking advantage of me, however false it was. We have safewords, and when we can’t talk, a safe action. I snap my fingers if I can’t speak for some reason – because she can hear it and doesn’t have to be watching my hands. Still, the idea that I should tell her, but I can’t talk . . . it drives me up the wall with excitement!