I circle your prone form. The dim lights, slowly pulsating, outline the undulations of your naked body. The silence we share is palpable in the twilight under our roof. My eyes are steady, fixated on your exposed flesh. They consume you. Voraciously.
You lie, limbs spread, tied to my bed posts. The coarse strands of rope dig into your smooth skin. Your lithe form presses into the satiny white sheets. Your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. Each breath causes the sinews to slide over your ribs. You are bare. So very exposed. So very beautiful.
I now stand across from you, looking at your body over the plane of your toned stomach. Over the lines of your spread legs. I can hear a faint hum coming from you. From within you. I see the blinking light of the vibrator I had planted then as a reward. Now a trial of your silence. Your toes are curled. Your legs strain to not buckle. I can see your body thrumming with the strength of your restraint.
It is time. Extending a hand at my side, I approach the headboard. My nails graze over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You squirm under my attention. There is nowhere to turn. A gasp escapes from your gagged mouth. A sliver of saliva slides down your cheek. It finds company in a stream of tears that has dried by your temple. Your wide eyes are intent on my face.
I do not meet your gaze. Mine follows my hand as I finally rest my palm in the valley of your bosom. I can feel the flutter of your caged heart. You are so vulnerable. So soft. My palm slides sideways to rest over your breast. The hard nub presses into my skin. Your back arches.
No. The time of pleasure is at end. Now comes pain. I pinch your nipple. Hard. A muffled gasp. I roll it between my fingers. A garbled moan. I slide my hand up and around your throat. A sudden grunt. I press. I can feel the throb of your veins struggling under my weight. Your body writhes. I let go.
So weak in this moment. So dangerously close the precipice of control. I could violate you in ways beyond counting. Harm you beyond hurting. And yet I cannot. My eyes finally rise in congress with yours. And I can see why. Denied, tied, and objectified. You look at me, serene, expectant, and adoring. Ah!
Behind this thin veneer of surrender, under the pretense of no agency, beyond the facade of fear, I see the undercurrent of your truth. In this moment, having so yielded authority, you wield it still over me, more so than ever.
Power.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/odt3vr/surrender_ds