Dancing on the Fringe of Darkness

Imagine…

A room by the beach - nothing too fancy - but a pool nearby, a beach across the street, and a nice big bed. We stroll along the beach at sunset, stopping at a blanket prepared with a bottle of wine, some cheeses, and a candle.

We sip wine and watch the last streaks of red and orange turn to purple. Then I lay you down next to me, putting your head on my lap. And I tell you stories. Dark, deep, decadent tales of what might still await you on our journey.

After an hour or so, I take your hand and instruct you to gather our things. We walk across the street and take a dip in the pool. The lights are dim, we are alone, and I draw you close. You are enjoying the effects of your wine, and you snuggle into my arms and luxuriate in my attentions. I gently pinch your nipples until they are rock hard, and then I inspect my property - every inch of it - running my hands over you, grasping at your breasts and ass, and probing your holes with my fingers.

I take you by the hair at the back of your neck, draw your head back, and kiss you - deep and full - slowly fucking your mouth with my tongue. You look up at me with hunger - your hand moves faltering towards my cock, and I smile, saying “follow your instincts, girl”. I pull us over to the pool stairs and I lay back. You take me into your mouth, sucking and licking at first, and then you take me deep as I hold you by the hair and murmur….”good girl….mmmmm…..gooooood girl”.

Once I am rock hard, I arise - turn you over - put you on your knees on the pools stairs, pull aside your bikini bottom, and thrust my cock into your wet, needy cunt - hard and swift. I take you for a while - holding your hair like reins, and you buck and moan, looking up at the moon, your eyes wide open in amazement at what is unfolding.

I withdraw from your pulsing pussy, and you whimper with the feeling of loss. I pull up my trunks, take you by the hand, and walk you to our room. You enter without a word, and gasp.

I have prepared the room. My ropes are ready and waiting for you at the corners of the bed. Your cuffs are out, my implements are on the dresser, and there is a small gift-wrapped package next to your collar. I tell you to strip, get your cuffs on, and kneel - which you do in a flash. I turn on some music, turn to you, and explain this is no ordinary night.

You cast your eyes up from your kneeling position with an imploring look. But you resist the urge to question. In your everyday life, you hunger for illumination and/or learning. Here, you are content with my ever-elusive foreshadowing - thoughts just out of reach - on the fringe of darkness.

Instinctively, you know this is a night when you do not speak unless required. You kneel, legs slightly spread as trained, head bowed a bit, waiting for the familiar reassurance of your collar being strapped around your neck. I move closer, take you in hand, and fasten it securely.

Your collar presents such a stark contrast to the beautiful curves of your neck and breasts - black and silver - almost harsh against your skin. Such a potentially humiliating concept - to be collared and leashed, but yet - this collar represents comfort, safety, and security under my hand. You have never felt so much in your place as you do with my collar around your neck.

I move again, and darkness falls - the blindfold. The one with rabbit fur lining. So decadent - and yet so erotic. You smile every time I put it on you, knowing I made it with my own hands.

As you descend, you begin to appreciate that tonight will be a night of exploration - into the fringes of your fantasies. Your mind starts to race, and you key in on your remaining senses as you try to establish what might be happening about you.

You feel something clipped to your collar ring, and you realize you have been tethered to the long dog lead. You feel me move away, and you feel very alone, kneeling naked in the darkness. It can be amazing how scant seconds without me in a charged interlude can seem like hours.

Is it a minute that passes? Ten minutes? An hour? Time loses meaning when you are in this state - it feels like an eternity in the darkness. And then you feel it. A tug on your collar. Low - at floor level. Insistent, steady, and strong.

You remember my words - “follow your instincts, girl”, and crawl on your hands knees across the room, towards the tug. You feel your lead taken up as you move. Shudder. You nipples are rock hard and your pussy is almost dripping in anticipation.

Humiliation? Objectification? Perhaps to some, but you have long lost any sense of malfeasance on my part. You are driven by your desire to experience all I wish of you. You embrace the luxury of being in the moment, and you remember my words - “do not think, girl, just do”. The result is intoxicating, and you grow more aroused as you navigate past the furnishings of the room.

Anticipation is such a wonderful thing with such a beautiful, erotic mind.

Your hand touches a shoe, and you recoil. Your mind races - is it me? You feel the grip of fear for a millisecond. Could there be another person in the room? The tug continues, and so you move forward until you feel yourself, kneeling low, your head against a chair cushion, between two outstretched thighs…

Time to dance, girl.

(via aslavesworld)

Source: hivewarden