I’m trembling. My entire body is suffering from a barely palpable shaking. The pulse of my heartbeat is deafening to my ears and I’m certain that he’s picked up on my nervousness. The room is barely lit, but that is of no relevance to me anymore. I’m trapped in the blackness served by the material bound around my head. I hear him prowling across the other side of the room from where I am sitting in the chair. Every pinprick of sound becomes a hammer blow to my hearing now, even the silence grows in volume. White noise. I pick out the shift in the air as I imagine he has stood up to move closer towards me. I don’t flinch, even though every inch of me wants to squirm, to raise a hand and peek out under the blindfold. He knows how much I want to look at him. My adrenaline starts shooting through my veins. For some reason I find that I’m incredibly thirsty, my mouth opens and my tongue brushes over my bottom lip. He’s incredibly close to me now, I think.

Don’t move.

Two words, nothing more. Two simple words and my heart has leapt up into my throat. His breath catches against my neck and I realise he is standing behind me. How could I not have realised that?! I had been too focused on the rise and fall of my own breathing and lost track of his position for a second. Now all at once he was here, my hands braced themselves against the arms of the chair. Braced, and grasping on to the edges. I sensed that he too was finding it difficult to contain himself, I could hear the tone in his voice and the slow deliberate way he spoke.

Turning my head a little towards his direction, I knew my mistake instantly – he had told me not to move, after all. I felt a hand creep up underneath my loose hair, along the back of my neck and clasp my head to direct it firmly back to its central position. Dead ahead. His hand stayed where it was, locked in my hair. As if to make his point stronger, his fingers tightened in my strands making me hiss in sudden reaction to the sting before tilting my head ever so slightly as he leaned in to kiss my neck. I was his plaything to direct, his puppet, a ragdoll. I had no more say in anything now. He let my hair go and my head drooped downward, unprepared for its momentary freedom. I let it hang there. I knew I was his and I knew I was smiling.

With this realisation, my hands were no longer clutching the edges of the chair, they were now limp, lithe and heavy. Seemingly waiting for this cue he shifted once again, now to my side where he took hold of one wrist, lifted it lightly before wrapping something soft around it. He was tying me to the chair. I feel the material tighten and my wrist carefully pulled down onto the arm. After each wrist was secured he quickly ran his fingers over my arms, shoulder to hands. A small sign, a token perhaps of his emotions. I willed it so.

Short-lived perhaps, as the next moment he was drawing the chair closer to the bed. He was sitting on the edge and I guessed I had been pulled right up close to him. I find that my suspicions are correct when I discover his knees pressing against my own, tightly clasped legs. He wants them parted, of course. I should have guessed his intentions, but my logical thinking mind always shuts down at times like this. All I am now is pure reaction to his impulses, the here and now, my immediate instincts, anxiety, anticipation and exhilaration contained within my body. Slowly, smoothly and with little resistance from me  - Why would I want to hold back from him? This is exactly where I wanted to be, albeit in a highly tentative state – he was having his wicked way with me and I allow myself to fall under his whims. To drift with him.

Now the trust I have for him is put to the test. It is within these crucial minutes that I understand that he will try my limits, my endurance. Despite the years we hold together, the number of dalliances with bondage, with submission we have shared, the thrill and delight I now have rushing through me is as intense as when we first dipped our toes into this kind of play. It’s that electricity that I am hooked on. No, it’s Him I am hooked on. His lust and drive and passion emerges in this like almost no other intimacy we have.

And so I sit, exposed for him and I don’t fear a thing. I’m ready, my head finally lifts up after all this time and he is greeted with the blind smile of his girl.