They have spread my legs, leaving me exposed, although i do not even know if anyone is paying attention to me. A hand on each ankle, a hand on each wrist, so i know they are there, but blindfolded as i am, i do not know what else is going on around me.
i can hear whimpers, laughter, an occasional squeal. Pleasure or pain? They are too close to tell.
i am reminded of a scene from a – a book? A movie? i don’t know anymore. But there are two women, kneeling over two chairs. You can see their torso and their faces, but the rest of their bodies are concealed behind a curtain. They are moaning, each one tossing her head –
and one of them is being whipped, crying out in pain. The other is being fucked, moaning with pleasure. You can not tell the difference from the way they look.
But i can tell, when a hand moves across my breast, quickly pinches my nipple, tightly, so tightly, i cry out. That is pain, and the hand between my leg that penetrates and discovers my wetness, that is pleasure, the mouth on my breast, pleasure, the finger forcing its way into my ass is pain – pain – pleasure – o – pleasure.
i toss my head, but someone holds it still, slips two fingers into my mouth, penetrating my mouth – now all my holes are full, and i cannot make a sound, and it is all pleasure.
In the darkness, beneath my blindfold, i no longer care who is touching, as the fingers stroke me, bringing me closer and closer to the peak of another orgasm, i suck the fingers, striving to please.
i know this may stop, stop at any moment, it may be whips next, striking my breasts, the insides of my thighs, making me scream while He – someone – strokes my face so gently that i want to make love to His hand.
But now the fingers fill me, taking me over the top once again as i shudder with pleasure.
“Say thank you,” He says, removing the fingers and —
“Thank you, Sir,” i say quickly, just as i have said when He whipped me, just as i will say it, whatever He does.
Thank you, Sir.