(((First post here so I’m a little nervous but feedback is welcome)))
Sensations
He had instructed her to kneel, naked and exposed, in the middle of the room. He told her he was getting everything ready and while he was, she was to remain completely still (read: she wasn’t allowed to see what he was doing). She heard the clattering of drawers and chains and the shifting of fabric, all on the table she knew to be behind her. She was all too familiar with the layout of this room, their playroom. She had experienced a myriad of sensations at the hands of him in here, both extreme and mild, physical and psychological, pleasure and pain.
He walked around in front of her, his expression total steel, and wordlessly gestured for her to stand. Her naked form rose from the floor and he looked over her, the same way he had a thousand times, as though he was assessing her. She knows he only does it to get in her head, she knows that the situation which was about to unfold had been planned and assessed and analysed and ran through a thousand and one times in his head, and yet she still felt herself shy away from his gaze, she still felt herself flush when his perverse gaze met her most exposed spots.
Eventually, his stillness was broken by a gesture, which she understood meant he was going to tie her wrists. She stuck her wrists out, waiting patiently for him to pace to the table behind her and retrieve the rope, still afraid to steal a glance at the table for fear of punishment. She would enjoy the punishment, but that only made her more certain that he would take any opportunity he could find to enact it. Besides, she knew it upset him when she broke the flow of the game he had planned out so perfectly, and it hardly seemed fair.
He tied her wrists together in front of her, ensuring that they were bound tightly together, but not too tightly, and securely, but not too securely; there was a long length of rope left which was hanging away from her wrists, she wondered why he had used the long rope.
It became apparent straight away, when he started lowering the suspension rig which was attached to the roof. She had a love hate relationship with the rig. Some of their most intimate and exposed sessions had come from it, and the feeling of weightlessness and complete loss of freedom was desirable to her, but the rig was… intimidating. It was hard to imagine how she looked from the outside, but the complete surrender it came with was scary, even to a submissive. Also, it hurt. Never too much, and he was always careful to make sure it hurt in the right places, but it still hurt.
He threaded the rope through the openings in the rig and raised it back up, a movement he had perfected over many years of much more complicated sessions than this one. She felt her feet leave the floor and sank immediately into the feeling of weightlessness. Her feet hung at her ankles so her toes grazed the floor, but she would not get any traction if she tried to move. He walked close to her, and for a second his ice-cold expression broke form, which she understood as an affirmation for her to signal if she was comfortable, in the liberal sense of the word. She nodded, and his expression shifted once again. Anyone else may not notice the change from one stoic gaze to another, but she knew him.
He walked back over to the table and walked back in front of her, she could now see a tube of what appeared to be cream in his hand. He had never used anything like this before, and she found her mind wandering to the possibilities of what was about to unfold. He unscrewed the lid from the tube and squirted some onto his hand, she was right, it was cream. He crouched down on the floor and gently applied the cream to her feet, squirting more onto his hand when he ran out, working his way up her smooth legs with a slow, gentle touch. He spared no expense in ensuring the cream was applied to every inch of her body. Every nook and cranny. Nowhere was spared, not even her most sensitive, delicate spots.
By the time the loving touch of her master left her body, she was already starting to feel a tingling sensation at her feet, where he had first applied it. The tingling sensation followed up her body, washing over her in much the same way his hands had, and indeed, touching her most sensitive parts with much less care than he had. As the sensation reached her crotch, she recognised it for what it was: arousal. It was nice at first, almost refreshing to experience the sensation so uniformly, but the tingling sensation evolved into burning, and her whole body very quickly began to feel like it was on fire. She felt her breathing speed up and become heavier, and she felt herself begin to sweat, her heart rate increasing, her cheeks flushing, heat.
She had no idea how long it took after his last touch for her to wonder if she had ever been this aroused in her life. Her exasperated breaths were the only thing she could hear as she began to enter a world entirely devoid of everything but the need to touch her throbbing, needy sex. Her trance-like state was left unbroken for a while, with her master simply enjoying the view of his slave straining against the bindings, desperate for some sensation across her burning body. The distribution of her weight did nothing to alleviate her suffering, with her wrists holding the weight of her body, and her mass being spread across her chest, the tightness of the skin around her ribcage only increasing the fire.
Eventually, her trance was broken by his voice, the first words he had spoken to her since they had entered the room.
“You’re plenty familiar with what you’re feeling right now, though it’s probably more intense than you’ve ever felt it before.” She was barely able to focus on his words, but he spoke with an abruptness, a callousness that indicated he couldn’t care less about her suffering, or better yet, that he was enjoying it. She found herself unable to muster the words to reply.
“The cream I applied to your body, it’s called aphrodisiac cream. It’s like numbing cream, but the total opposite. The cream I just spread all over your body is designed to heighten arousal for those who struggle with… bedroom activities.” She had a much easier time focusing on these words, she wanted him to say more, to do more, anything to relieve this burning need. She was desperate for just a single touch of his skin, and even more desperate still for him to touch her clenching pussy, her aching clit. She opened her eyes, not realising until she had snapped back into reality that they were shut, and saw him standing in front of her, a little closer than she thought he was.
“See, the cream is only supposed to be used on certain spots, and you’re only really supposed to use a bit of it, but the amount we’ve used works just fine for today,” she managed to glance over to the almost empty tube on the floor, “and it has adverse effects when used on other areas.” He continued, gently poking her stomach. Or at least, it looked gentle, the sensation didn’t match that appearance at all. She felt a burst of heat incomparable with what she felt before, her frustration increasing tenfold at just the tiny sensation of this instantaneous touch, her breath rate increasing doubly to match, to now a deep pant.
“How did that feel?” He mused with a monstrous grin on his face, revelling in the reaction. She remained silent, fearing the consequences of saying anything, and unsure of her ability to respond, even if she wanted to. He walked past her once again to the table, she still did not look. Once he had walked back around in front of her, she snapped her focus to whatever dreadful item she was sure would be in his hand. She dared to look, and her eyes widened at the…. feather.
“Don’t be tricked by appearances,” he said, “this can do more damage than you can imagine.” He grinned once again, touching the feather lightly to the skin of her stomach, sending bursts of heat and oh-so-frustrating pleasure rushing through her body and aching into her core. She had never felt like this before he began touching her, and now she was struggling to think straight at the literal brush of a feather. She felt heat and desperation building up between her legs, and her whole body felt soggy with sweat.
He continued brushing the feather over her body, getting close but never quite breaching the sensitive borders of her chest and her hips. At some point – she wasn’t sure when – she started to moan. She was sure she was trying to speak, but the words just would not come out. Instead, her mind was flooded, overwhelmed, with sensations of pure arousal. The torturous touch of the feather continued for an eternity, brushing over her legs and her stomach, her neck and her arms, sometimes coming dangerously close to the top of her thighs but never quite touching the spot she was so desperately wishing it would.
Eventually, the touch of the feather ended, and some time after, she came to her senses and realised it.
“How did you find that?” He asked, once again stoic. Taking a second to steel herself, she eventually found it in herself to pronounce a sentence.
“Please… it feels… just so much. I don’t know… what to do.” She muttered, panting between words, loud enough to be heard, but breathy nonetheless.
“I know, it will be alright, we’re almost done.” He said reassuringly, breaking persona for just a moment to assure her she isn’t alone. He walked over to her and placed his hands on her hips, met instantly by a moan as pleasure once again shot through her body, and she writhed against his grip trying to escape the horrible, wonderful ache, almost swinging against the rope.
He removed his hand from her hips, leaving her locked inside of her own screaming body. She was sure the pulsation between her legs was creaking so loudly it could be heard by everyone in a 5-mile radius, but she didn’t care, she was only focused on what the screams were asking for.
He walked over to the table behind her once again, retrieving a ball gag and a small piece of cloth. He walked in front of her and gestured for her to open her mouth. Deliriously, she agreed, feeling the rag enter her mouth, and feeling it being sealed in by the ball gag. He tightened the gag so the strap around the back of her head was holding it deep in her mouth. He once again gave her the look, to check up on her without words, which she registered even in her horny stupor. She nodded, and he unhesitantly placed his hand suddenly on her stomach, pressing down not too roughly, but nowhere near as gentle as the touches she had experienced so far, sending a simple instruction through her entire nervous system: explode. She squealed and moaned and screamed into her gag, wordlessly begging for who knows what, but he simply walked around her, leaving his hand in the same spot, with the same level of pressure, and dragging the pure and deliberate ache across her stomach and around her back, before meeting itself at the spot where it began above her belly-button.
He stopped in front of her, turning to meet her gaze before removing his hand. A second passed and he abruptly placed his hands on her hips, leaning forward in an instant and kissing her neck, bringing an ocean of sensations she didn’t know she could experience crashing against the banks of her mind, trying their hardest to escape. Her desperation from before was nothing now, and the aching need emerging from her soaked pussy was stronger than it had ever been, months of teasing had nothing on the sensation she was feeling right now, and she wanted nothing more than for him to put his hand between her legs and finger her until she passed out.
But that didn’t come, instead his kisses moved lower and lower down her neck, eventually meeting her shoulders, before moving away from the edges of her silhouette and moving down her chest, paying close attention to her breasts, which he had neglected with the feather. She felt his wet, sloppy kisses sending branches of arousal that reached right into the core of her mind, polluting even her deepest thoughts. There was nothing left in her mind now, not even in the depths of her subconscious, but the need to be touched, the need for this aching to end, the need to be pleasured. His kisses moved down her chest, over her nipples, forcing desperation from the already sensitive area, causing her to moan even more loudly, essentially screaming into her gag. Her screams sounded almost like sobs now, tears building up in her eyes, desperately fought against in the losing battle to maintain just a little bit of dignity.
But it was hopeless, that dignity was never hers to begin with. Her desperation, her fire, her need, her frustration, they all exceeded the desire to hold back the tears, and the tears began to stream. She screamed and moaned and cried, her frustration now greater than any sensation she had ever felt before. His kisses moved down her stomach, going far too slowly for her liking. Her leaky eyes streamed as she wished with all of her being for him to speed up, for him to reach that million-dollar spot just a second faster. Her leaky pussy begged for the touch of his lips, but it didn’t come. When the time came for him to kiss it, after he had passed her stomach, and passed her smooth crotch, he stopped short of the one place she needed him to touch. He stood, and her pained screams were music to his ears, the painful pleasure turned to pure aching frustration, borderline pain.
“I think that’s enough for today,” he barely held back the grin, trying and failing to maintain the stoic affront in the face of the wonderful noises he had elicited from his slave. He removed the gag, which had probably been in a lot longer than she realised, as she felt the straps peel away from the skin on her cheek. He brushed his hands gently along the marks the gag had left and removed the cloth from her mouth. He put the gag and the cloth down on the floor next to him and lowered the rig slowly, allowing her first to stand and then gently to lower her arms.
“Don’t move too quickly, it’s important to let your body to slowly realise it’s free to move.” He said, with the gentle and loving voice she was used to hearing most of the time. Eventually the rig was completely lowered, and he untied her wrists, her hands dropping to the side. He kissed her on the cheek, and made his way over to the table for the last time, returning to her with another tube, this time one she recognised.
“It’s a numbing cream, this is going to suck, but it will help counteract the sensations.” He gestured for her to sit up on the bed at one side of the room, crouching on the floor in front of her and slowly applying the cream, starting once again at her feet. Once he was confident the cream was working, and he wasn’t going to overwhelm her with sensations, he applied the cream all over her body, once again with a loving, gentle touch. He left out one spot in particular. He left the gel to settle in, and sat next to her on the bed, wrapping his arms around her and lying with her. Soon they moved under the covers and he held her for a long while.
”You did amazing today, I’m really proud of you,” he said, moving his hand gently down her body to give her exactly what she wanted.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/m9z0ni/sensations_light_bondage_bondage_teasing_denial