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Your body begins as it began in life, naked and exposed. Silk rope restraints enclose each wrist as your hands are drawn behind your back.

Forward on your knees, the spreader bar’s lock serves as an auditory reminder of your place in the moment and in the world. Ankles angled back to form the triangular base from which you serve, bound to each other before clipping to the sloped diamond of your encapsulated arms.

Light enshadowed to darkness as your eyes are made blind. Your throat constrained in the metal collar that D-clips to the straightened rod in its rear slot while nipples are gripped from the squeezed mechanism’s forward face.

Movement remains efficient, but not without ply, pinch, or pain. Resigned to stillness, the sounds of silence grow defeaning over time.

Your breath finds rhythm with the pulse of your heart, which in turn brings pulse to your nipples and clit. Your mouth grows drier as your pussy grows wetter.

Your mind tunes with each sensation, whether pleasant or not. The music of memory plays in your head. The paintbrush of fantasy edits each frame. Regression and progression meld to meditation.

You are open — literally in body, metaphorically in mind.
Mental heat counters physical chills. The aches of your body become the cravings of your erogenous zones.

You float in the cognitive space of desire while tethered to terrestrial objects. Anticipation of the unknown defines every urge. Every placed restraint reminds you that you are not alone.

Finally, one touch of another’s finger into the wetness of your want brings electric spark to every nerve and neuron. One question is uttered through a voice that symbolizes the deity of your fate. “Shall we begin?” it asks.

As your mouth opens to form the answer, it fills with the engorged flesh of your final controller. As you gasp, suck, sigh, and swallow in wanton hunger and thirst, the answer floods your mind as forcefully as the gushed release from between your thighs. “We already have.”

NSFW: yes

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