Few things about this.
1. It is based on a real scene I did a while back. I have studied science before but not everything brought up is accurate. So if super accuratacy is your thing, my B.
2. I had practiced bondage over a year at this point. So there is more thought on my side of things but the change in perspective happens pretty soon, from the Dom to the Sub.
Ebony Nights:
The Lord stood in a room filled with the muffled gasp of his captive. White rope twisted over dark skin: simple knots held her spread eagle. Like snakes they slithered up the legs to hold down the Princess above. Impossible to undo without the help of her captor…
On the bed was a Queen To Be but she looked so small held down by the woven cords. A beautiful contrast against her ebony skin. He watched her chest heave and found focus on her slight and supple nipples. The white chord held a nice stark contrast and enticed him to follow it to the ends.
He frowned as the rope dangled off the edge of the bed. Too long for their purpose but tassled off to a smooth pattern on each end. He disliked the asymmetrical image but took a breath. Releasing it he focused once again on his pretty little Princess.
A blind fold held firm against her eyes and a gag muffling her moans. The bright red adding a pop of color to the scene. He smiled at her glistening chin. Flexing his hand he begins the scene.
———————————–
Her lord watched carefully as her body twisted under his gaze. She could feel its weight on her. His subtle gasping as she twisted in the ropes. He would touch her here and there but kept quiet. A light dusting across her nipple, an open palm on her navel, and small grasping of her thighs had her bucking her hips: begging for more.
The darkness was all she could see. The gag held her mouth open and she could feel the drool slipping out. Her focus was on the feather touches, the wind against her wet chin and the heat emanating from her core. She could not see but her world consisted of this delicious over stimulation. Every movement highlighted against the silk sheets, every sound amplified.
He spoke and her world shrank.
“The bodies response to trauma is an interesting thing. You don’t need harsh hits, or sharp implements to promote a reaction. A simple instruction, a quick misdirection, can do wonders. Expectations play with the senses in ways people don’t expect.” He goes quiet again but he doesn’t leave her wanting. This time there is a light touch but he doesn’t take it away. His hands trail up and down her thighs. They move, massage, grasp, and barely graze her glistening pussy. She tries to buck into his hand but he is in control.
His hand finds her thigh and he pushes her down but keeps his hand there. So close to touching her heat, but firmly holding her in place instead. He speaks once more “The body reacts to trauma based on what’s happening to it. Cells exist in very finite spaces but they exist in a beautiful tapestry of evolution. They exist next to nerve endings, arterial walls, skin cells, fat and so much more. That space can only hold so much though. Rejoice though, for each and every cell have something in common. They are 72% water, give or take.” He pauses to rub his hands up and down her thigh. Grazing the side of her heat with the edge of his hand. No touching no matter how you squirm.
“Tell me do you know what happens when you introduce heat to a system mostly consisting of water?” He waits for her reply, muffled as it is she fears he doesn’t understand.
Her Lord smiles as she bucks her hips to his hand, desperate for the touch. He obliges her, because this time he wants the contact. He holds his hand there, lightly pulsing as the area heats up under his ministrations. Soon its scorching and he can only smile at what she must feel. Keeping his hand kneading he speaks again.
“When water is heated up it expands. The molecules react to the heat with an excitation of particles. It’s what causes bubbles in boiling water, an unseen convection current. It rolls over itself, molecules moving just a little bit faster.”
She realizes he never heard her answer, that he never wanted to hear her answer. He wanted her to know she couldn’t answer. She would feel shame over her lack of response but all she can focus on is the hand that is so close to touching her soaked pussy.
He pauses his kneading and barely brushes her quim. Arching her back she weeps for contact, but he takes advantage of her distraction, of her momentary vulnerability, and squeezes her thigh.
Hard!
She cums, screaming into her gag. Her legs spasm, pulling against the bonds trying to do something other than lie there. Her knees buckle trying to come together, hips rising off the bed as he holds firm.
He waits a moment before he slams her back into the mattress, holding her down as she forgets who she is. The haze clears and she realizes that his grip is no longer a complex mix of pain. He chuckles and massages the area.
She is his, she cannot escape nor does she want to.
His hands trail up, his fingers finding the space next to her pussy oh so fascinating. Her body weeps in jealousy over the space between her leg and lips. Where his touch finds it home.
She jerks her hips to meet his fingers but the jolt causes the pain in her thigh to flair and she bites back a moan. She tries desperately to find a spot that has her release but the pain in her leg stops her. She freezes as he speaks again.
“People think bruises are these ugly purple things that are from hard hits. Hitting your shin, getting hit, car accidents, bumps to the head. But that’s not true! Do you know why?” He pauses his roving hands over her tender muscle. She is about to answer but realizes he cannot understand her through the gag.
She freezes entirely, shame and guilt mixing in her heart. As his grip hardens he states “Oh princess… at least say something” but she can’t, her mouth won’t work and all she can focus on is the tightening grip squeezing her thigh. She starts to shake as her mind screams at her to respond, but her mouth won’t move.
She feels the shift in the bed as he leans in close to her ear. His grips tightens further as he begins to answer his own question, something you know he hates. “It’s because bruises are not purple.” His grip becomes steel and she feels her core explode once more.
The Lord watches his princess writhe, holding her down the entire time.
He eases up and begins speaking again. “See the Medical community does not call them bruises but rather contusions. The reason for that is because they are defined as trauma inflicted to the capillaries that causes damage, particularly internal bleeding and trauma. Broken cells, burst capillaries and the like. Purple bruises are bad contusions with wrecked capillaries, but they only exist above a certain threshold. Ever hit yourself and the skin is darker for a day or even a few minutes? That is a minor contusion, a minor bruise.” He squeezes again, and she tenses in anticipation.
As she moves the pain shoots up her body and all she feels is a complex pleasure. But he does not turn to iron, instead he sighs softly and rubs it.
The princess relaxes and curses herrself for doing so.
“Why is this important? What do burst capillaries have to do with water? What do bruises have to do with heat? What does any of that have to do with nerves and the senses?” All his questions are rhetorical but she remember the punishment for not answering. She babbles into her gag, not even understanding what she meant to say.
The princess can feel her Lord’s gaze. Judging her nonsensical answer. Praying that he accepts it but at the same time her pussy clenches remembering how his grip felt.
“It matters because when contusions occur your body immediately responds!” This time he slaps her poor thigh and any sense of will she created escapes. She convulses as a small orgasm rocks her. He slaps it again but this time it hurts. Crying out into her gag, he stops. A small moment of reprieve that reminds her that he knows her body so well. He knows her limits and respects them.
She hears her Lord’s sigh before he pauses his ministrations. She feels the bed shift and the soft smack of his lips against her inner thigh. His breath like fire against a soaked pussy. Desperately trying to dip down but the Ropes catch her arms reminding her who is in control.
He’s so close though!
She bucks desperately but the Lord simply puts a hand on her thigh and she freezes.
“The bodies response to the trauma cause by bursting capillaries is to send blood and other things to it. To heal, to clean, to dispose of the broken cells and damaged tissue. In any movement heat is created, no matter how small.” He is massaging the abused thigh for a moment before he draws his hand away. He kisses soaked lips and she moans into her gag, begging for what comes next.
“Expectations can burn. You predict one thing and your body sends resources to that area. It is an autonomous response that some people call placebo.” He begins to kiss her core, his tongue darting out and tickling the clit. The rough pad of his taste buds, the smooth flicker of the underside.
She is begging for more and trying to buck into his face but his hands stop the desperate jerks.
He is in control.
All the focus is on his tongue, aching thigh forgotten in a haze of pleasure.
She doesn’t feel how his right hand rises, sliding away from the bruising thigh. He holds her hips with it and with his left he leaves it resting on the undamaged thigh but all she can focus on is his tongue.
“Oh Princess… remember when I said the body is terrible at multitasking?” Freezing she tries to figure out what he is going to do next. His lips dart back and play with the aching pussy and all thoughts screech to a halt.
Screaming a climax into the gag as his plan is enacted. His left hand squeezes the untouched thigh so hard she is certain she blacks out for a moment.
The pleasure causes His princess to arc her back and pull against the ropes that are binding her. Panting against her gag, he eases off. Now both her thighs hurt and he is lightly slapping them. The small taps bring the princess back down from climax and she can feel him smiling at her reaction.
Flushing with embarrassment but also happiness. She knows in this moment she is his but now she knows he is yours. She is his whole world.
“As your blood moves to the damaged area it removes the damaged cells. But that’s not all. Small clots are forming, starting to repair all the damage. Stopping the bleeding so it can be repaired. Like a wound from a small cut. The heat from my hand seeps into the area in a subdermal convection current. Your body heats up in response to the trauma. Your body is 72% water and what happens when heat mixes with water?” The lord speak but is met with weak mumbles into the gag. She knows she studied this but can’t remember it for the life of her.
“Mmmm thats right, water expands. But why is that important?” More mumbling echoes from her placid form. Her body is deliciously sore, pussy aching, and with every breath she realizes how close he is to her pussy.
He begins playing with the bruised thighs, massaging both with his hands. His fingers digging into the sensitive flesh but not enough to hurt.
Not this time. No matter how much she craves it now.
“You see I don’t care about the capillaries, or the damage done to them.. I don’t care about the fat, or tissue, or skin. You know what I care about?” This time his hands snake to the outside of the thighs, stopping to rest on her ass. So deliciously hot against the bed. He says the next line into a dripping quim.
“The pussy has thousands of nerve endings, the clitoris alone has nearly 8 thousand. As blood rushes to the area around it it also rushes to these areas. All that expanding water, but do you know what doesn’t expand? Nerves.” With that his grip turns ferocious, mauling her ass as he dives in to devour the scorching core.
This time there is no question, she definitely blacks out.
—————-
When you come to, you find your Lord gazing into your eyes. It take several agonizing seconds to remember who you are and what you are doing here. He smiles and speaks to you, maintaining eye contact the entire time.
“All those nerve endings with half the space. Mathematically that means you feel everything twice as much.” He kisses you and you realize at some point he removed the gag.
You cannot formulate a response only a mewling wail of pleasure.
“But that’s not exactly how the mind works. The entire surrounding area is now traumatized, filled with heat and blood. So tell me something Princess.” His gaze demands a response.
What’s left of your mind comes to bear and you ask “Tell you what My Lord?” His gaze alights with joy before you feel it.
His length is leveled with your heat and you are dripping.
Your eyes widen and you meet his gaze.
You don’t hear what he says next.
You crash into another orgasm as he hilts himself inside you.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/oq1mqx/ebony_nights_blind_bound_and_gagged