He tells me to sit and wait for him, naked on the edge of the bed. The new hood is laid out on the dresser, beside the lube and some other items. I try not to look at what is there, choosing instead to close my eyes. When he comes in he sounds formal and is using his Dom voice. Inside a little part of me gives something of itself. I feel conscious of my nakedness, which is odd considering the intimacy we share. He tells me to stand up and he touches me. He whispers in my ear that I am his. He reminds me that I have safewords, and although we both know that I am unlikely to use them, it adds another level of formality to the situation; I am safe but I may need to ask for things to slow or stop. This causes a further shift in my mind as the contradiction settles across it.
He tells me that we are going to be using the new sensory deprivation hood for play tonight. I nod and he puts it over my face, adjusting and securing it. A feeling of excitement and anticipation pricks its way through my body and my insides tense and curl. He told me earlier that it was important that I was properly ready for him which I have done; he moves me back towards the bed, sits me on it and then asks me to lie back. At this point my legs are over the edge of the bed but I am told to shift back so that the heels of my feet rest on the edge of the bed frame. I can’t see anything at all with the hood on and the sound of my breathing is is loud compared to the other more muffled noises. I feel isolated from the world around me and cling strongly to the sound and the feel of him. I can still hear him if he talks directly beside my ear although his voice has an unfamiliar quality to it, caused by the hood.
He moves my feet so that the soles are together and my legs fall wide apart for him. Inside the hood my cheeks burn at the thought of what he must see and what I must look like. I feel humiliated but turned on, like flicking a switch. My pelvic muscles clench involuntarily and I know that he will have seen that. I feel the beginning of the familiar ache in my labia as his breath kisses my skin. His fingers prize me open and I know that he is checking to see if I have prepared myself the way that he likes. He looks for stray hairs which I know he will be displeased with and although I always try my best to get it right, there is a rush of adrenaline as my nerves kick in. To be under such scrutiny is excruciating and delicious in equal measure, and the confliction about what I feel messes with my head, pushing me deeper.
His examination of my body is thorough and by the time he has finished, I am in a heightened state. My nipples are large and erect, my arsehole has been relaxed at his command, a plug pushed inside it, and I am already wet, or ‘soaking’ as he likes to remind me. He has taken control of my body, making it his, causing it to respond to his will rather than my own. My dignity has been put aside as I lay there, legs bent up and spread wide before him, aching and dripping and waiting to be used as he sees fit. But he won’t use me himself yet. He will tease and taunt and take me further from myself and into the world where I am nothing but the sensations he gives me and the responses he draws from me. My breathing has quickened and the hood exaggerates it, as I lay there drifting in the heat of the world that he is creating for me.
Although the hood must be providing some sense of anonymity for him, in my mind I am still obviously me, but a me who looks altered, unnatural. My mind plays with the image, imagining the slightly grotesque site that I must be. The thrill that comes from the humiliation I feel courses through me and I groan out loud as I feel him take one of my lips between his fingers. He places a clamp on it and he pulls, draping the chain with the fishing weight over my leg. He does the same to the other side and I feel even more exposed. He lifts my feet up slightly to sit against him which causes my hips to shift, giving him greater access to my bum too. He taps the plug a couple of times to remind me it is there. I can’t find words for how I must look but the thought of it is pushing me over the edge. I am so completely mortified but compelled to go further. My mind twists on itself with snapshots and sounds which taunt and thrill me.
He puts the chains in my hands and tells me to hold myself open for him. He comments about how exposed and vulnerable I am. About how altered my body is stretched wide and gaping for him. He slaps my thigh and tells me wider, wider. He moves from telling me well done and encouraging me, to commanding me more sternly to hold myself properly as wide as I can. And when he brings the wand to my clit I know that I will explode in no time. I feel like I will literally burst. Like I am taut and swollen and like my skin cannot contain the pleasure waiting beneath the surface. It feels like it will erupt like a flood from within me and I worry that I will squirt, right here in front of him, right where he can see it and see me make a mess. As he continues to move the wand, I let go, nothing left to hold back. He has turned me into this gasping, writhing, twitching mess and I no longer care how any of this looks as I convulse on the waves of pleasure over and over again.