I am waiting. He has sent me to His room. I kneel on the black rug, the wool cushioning my stockinged knees. The straps of my high heels press against my ankles reminding me of their presence. My mouth is dry. I moisten my lips in nervous anticipation. As I swallow I feel the pressure of the collar around my neck.
That is all I wear today... nothing else. He has told me to remove everything else. To enter His room and wait.
My hands twist as I hold them behind my back. I clasp them together, halting their movement.I breathe slowly. Hands, feet, body motionless... but my mind will not be stilled.
Already I am wondering what he has in mind for me tonight. My eyes are pulled unwillingly to the dark shelf to the left of the door. I see His 'toys' laid out. Meticulously ordered, displayed to excite and alarm me in equal measure.
As my eyes alight on the neat coil of purple rope I cannot help the smile that blushes across my face. I cannot dull the spark that lights my eyes. I cannot suppress the moisture that leaks between my thighs.
My body aches to be used by Him. In my mind I am already displayed for Him. The ropes woven around my body, transforming me into living art, presenting me perfectly in a way that nature never could alone.
Will the marks of the tight bonds be enough for Him tonight; or will He crave the resonant slap of the paddle and the growing crimson blush on the cheeks of my proffered posterior?
My heart skips a beat as I consider if I have forgotten a misdemeanor that could earn me a set of stinging scarlet stripes across my defenceless derriere....
I hear His movements outside the door. The creak of the floorboards as He shifts His weight.
I lower my eyes submissively to the floor.
I feel His hands placing the blindfold over my eyes, the straps pulled tight... and tighter still.
I am left in darkness, with only my thoughts... but it will be His imagination, not mine, that will bring the sharpest pleasures... through His imagination that I will know joy...
“The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?” Marquis De Sade