I am suspended from the ceiling and theres no way to know whether the pulleys and hooks are going to hold. I believe they will though, just as I believe he won't leave me like this: blindfolded, naked and bound. I have faith that he tied the knots properly. I have faith that he won't hurt me when I'm this vulnerable.
My mind soars as my body recedes into the background. I want him so much right at this moment. I belong only to him and would do anything for him... Anything.
A smile breaks through in my place of bondage. There is no sound in the room now, but I can sense the exact place where He stands. I know his eyes are on me. I know he's deciding what to do to me next, and my dick hardens in its bindings, at the thought of him thinking about me.
He suspends me when he thinks I need it, and he knows I'm afraid of heights. He also knows I am afraid of disappearing, metaphorically speaking of course, and the feeling of hanging in nothingness, is extremely difficult for me to bear.
My arms are tied and there is nothing for my hands to grasp onto. He knows I want to hold onto something at all times. Want to be able to feel my feet on the ground, but he's teaching me something I have to relearn over and over. It's something I may never learn completely and he knows that too, but he doesn't seem to mind.
He is always patient with me.
As I hang in space, with no sound entering my ears and no light penetrating my blindfold, I remember lots of things...about how I used to be before he began teaching me.
What I remember is a man who's fist was tightly clasped all the time. I remember myself as someone who had to hold on as tightly as he could because if he let go he would not be anymore. The imagery is painful to watch behind my blindfolded lids, but I can see it there as if it were someone else and not me, so it's bearable. I can see myself washing my hands until the skin was peeling off. Can see myself turning the light switch off an on, rhythmically for hours, doing it until until I am so weary that I just collapse onto my bed to sleep when I am finished. I can also see myself threatening people so I can get my own way. I can see all the small acts of revenge that are meant to keep me feeling in control at all costs, but which really just make me lose my integrity.
I remember the loss of control in my so stridently trying to maintain it.
I can see fists clenched around the steering wheel as I curse the other drivers, I can see my tightened fists as I argue my point until my coworkers finally throw up their hands in frustration and aquiesce.
There was a time when I couldn't see that the harder I held on to the illusion that I could control everything in my world that the more everything in my world just slipped through my fingers.
I couldn't understand it then, but I catch a glimpse of it now, sometimes.
My Master has helped me with all of the things that were causing my suffering. He has begun to teach me to stop struggling so much against everything; to stop fighting and to bear my mental anguish with dignity. When the pain in my head becomes too much and my fists are clenched for hours at a time, he sometimes offers me physical pain. He doesn't call it punishment, because that isn't what it's about and he knows I'm not stupid enough to believe that anything he ever does to me is punishment. But, He helps me let go of it all, and he doesn't talk to me about it because he knows words are meaningless and double-edged to me. He knows to me that words are much more painful than blows, because the meaning behind words is always an unknown. Feeling just is and he knows that all I trust is feeling... and him.
And what does he receive in return for all his hard work? He has someone who will always be loyal to him, someone who offers up everything he is capable of because he finally feels a sense of hope.
It seems to be enough to satisfy him.
I met him in the restroom of a club. I was standing there alone flicking the lights off and on, counting the repetitive clicks while trying to gain back some feeling of control. There were tears of weariness in my eyes when I looked around and saw him standing there, holding a beer and smiling at me. There was no escaping the fact that he saw what I was doing and that he saw my tears.
And as the techno beat ruthlessly pounded outside the men's bathroom at the club 'Inferno', I wordlessly turned my head away, and willed him to leave me alone.
He never did.
I flinch slightly as his finger brushes across the sole of my foot, tickling me, and I am back again. I'm still suspended in mid-air, my dick hard and straining against the bindings that prevent any release at all. I try to remain completely still in the ropes because if I struggle at all, I will hear an ominous creaking sound, and my terror wil become unbearable.
His touch moves to my butt and a shudder runs through the length of my body as his fingers tickle their way up my crack. I moan slightly.
I am not gagged because he doesn't want me gagged. He has told me not to make a sound though, and I feel bad that I've let him down. He is now going to do something unpleasant, I am sure of it, and although it won't be considered a punishment by either of us, it will somehow help me to learn something important.
His warm breath is caressing the hairs on my legs as my previously hard dick shrivels out of fear. He is definetely going to do something but I have no idea what, and my heart pounds in fear and anticipation.
And then his hands are on my lower back and he gives me a small shove. Suddenly I am scrabbling at thin air for a hold I know I won't find. my body arcs through the air, swinging to and fro, and the pulleys and chains are creaking with my every move. Fear flashes light up my darkened eyelids as I keep swinging perilously back and forth. "Please, don't let me fall!" I gasp out in a ragged, terror-filled voice, not realizing or caring that I have once again disobeyed. I am in a primal state of terror but am aware enough to realize what is happening when I hear the door opening and then shutting again. I know he has left me alone.
My hands claw at thin air as I struggle against the rope. He's gone! He isn't coming back. I am all alone swinging in space and he is gone! I cry out again, "Don't leave me alone like this, Master!" Panic drives me into a frenzy of useless activity while the fearsome creaking becomes louder and louder.
And then...
I hear the door open with a light squeak, and feel a cool breeze against my naked flesh.
"Stop struggling." His voice is clear and strong, and I quickly obey the command. My panic is now receding, leaving me feeling cold and ashamed. As my body finally comes to a slow stillness, I hear the scraping sound of the stepladder and know he is going to release me.
Tears of mingled relief and shame soak the blindfold as he capably works to release me from my bindings.
I have failed. He doesn't ask much of me, and I have failed.
My hands clench at the thought.
I want to hurt myself. I want to tear out my tongue so I won't be able to let him down again. I want him to suddenly release the safety harness so I will plunge to the floor and receive the pain I deserve for failing again.
Automatically, I clench my hands, but when I feel the rough texture of the rope, I open them again, spreading my fingers as wide as they will go.
Soon, I am on my feet blinking at the light and he is looking at me. His eyes tell me that everything is OK, and he smiles his regular warm smile to let me know we are back to normal now. "It's OK, Jon, you did better this time than the last. I'm very pleased."
As his arms encircle me, my dick hardens again and I drop to my knees and begin to unzip his jeans, my lust for him growing to mighty proportions.
That isn't what he wants from me apparantly, because he gives me a firm shake of the head, and then helps me to my feet.
I am embarrassed by his rejection of something I think am very good at, and so I start to shut down. My emotions begin to recede and my body feels as if it belongs to someone else.
He has rejected my offer and taken control away from me, again...I am not in control at all.
It takes only one firm pinch on the back of my neck to bring me back to myself, and from somewhere deep inside a torrent of tears erupt. I glance at him, ashamed of the outburst, but when I detect no signs of pity on his face, I allow the storm of feeling to continue.
He stands beside me quietly, allowing me to let it out, not saying anything to either encourage or discourage, he simply waits.
And then without a word, he unfastens his belt and pulls it through the loops. At the familiar swishing sound a jolt of adrenaline zings through me, causing a mild tingle from head to toe.
The belt of thick, black-leather is doubled in his fist, and I stare at it in both relief and dread.
He puts an arm around me and begins to guide me from the room. "You did well," he tells me softly and then plants a soft kiss on the side of my face. "You've earned this."
The sheets are soft, and as I lay across them and lift my ass so he can whip me the way I need to be whipped, I feel a bubbling up of pure pleasure inside of me
The pain, the pain, the pain....I sigh ecstactically as the belt sears the skin of my bottom cheeks, and soon my butt trembles and I lay flat on the bed, writhing and moaning, my dick getting harder with each well-aimed blow.
He murmers meaningless words to me, words that hold no power at all, but that help me to let it all go. All of the worry, all of the fear, all of the control flies away as the belt continues to flail at me.
I rock from side to side and then I try to move my butt out of the way. These are just instinctive movements, and he seems to know that, because the blows come more slowly and more precisely, never hitting my back, thighs or testicles.
I claw at the sheets, as the pain becomes more than I can bear, but the pain does not stop.
It feels like a fire has been lit in my ass. It feels like I must escape at any cost, but I don't. He is not restraining me, not even with a hand on my back, and so the temptation to roll away from the pain is very strong.
"Let go," he says gruffly, his words coming in gasps now because of the effort he has been putting into this.
Those two words register inside of the pain, and I exhale hard and then whimper, as I realize I can't help but let go.
I try not to--it's automatic with me, but something is building inside of me, that I can't control no matter how hard I try.
A feeling of pure bliss takes me over and my dick give a hard, impatient throb just before I feel myself come.
The whipping stops and I feel his warmth as he lays on top of me, trapping me beneath him.
It's sticky beneath me, and my body still throbs occasionally as I try to get my breath back. I can feel his breath in my ear as he lays there motionless.
"Let me up," I whisper as I start free-falling back to earth.
"No," he whispers back, causing real fear to course through me.
"Please, let me up. It's enough," I say more forcefully as my hands ball into hard fists.
"No," he says in the same tone as before.
"Let me up, Master!" I bark out as blind panic replaces the exquisite pleasure I felt only moments before.
This time, he listens to me, and the second I am free of his weight I jump to my feet and stand before him glaring.
He glances down at my fists and then gives me a small, enigmatic smile, before leading me back to the suspension room.
"We still have some work to do," he says calmly as he once more drags the step ladder across the floor, then picks up the discarded rope.
"Yes, Master," I say just as calmly, although I am terrified.
I know he's right because he's always right, but I also know that someday I am going to learn what should be a very simple lesson.