Mia19
Posts: 1
Joined: 9/23/2011
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Knowledge:
I knew it when I read his writings, dark and thought provoking as they were. I was drawn. I ran the previous nights conversation back in my head trying to work out where I had let it get this far so quickly, and why. A handful of memos, and one night of conversation and I was on my knees, front door unlocked and wearing the one garment he had permitted – anything I chose, but only one item. He knew I had just moved house and that any attire was still in bags….it had added to the panicked nervousness in my stomach, but also to my arousal. The previous night he had asked the question whether I was shocked at my behavior, I was.
So there I was, waiting. The demanded cup of tea sat on the side. My back to the door, the floor hard on my knees, holding one hand in the other behind my back, attempting to stop the quivering. My mind a maelstrom of feelings, charged with electricity. I felt wetness seep down my leg and knew he would know when he came through the door. Still I waited.
I do not know how many minutes passed before I heard the handle turn and footsteps behind me, the rustle of a bag, his breathing…my heart pounding away in my chest, I wanted to turn to catch a glimpse, but I knew I could not. Then there was darkness, a blindfold. My mouth was dry, I could not swallow. I felt him against the back of my head and smiled at receiving the attention I so desperately needed, but still needing his approval.
I could feel his gaze, the pull on my hair making my breath catch. I felt his hands and his fingers, and then the dreaded question ‘Why are you so wet?”. I fumbled for the answer knowing the reason, ‘I can’t help it’, and knowing what that made me. He walked away, I could hear him take his tea. I waited.
A rustle of the bag again, and I found myself wondering what he had brought with him. He had already told me he was looking forward to abusing me. Why did I want that? How could I? if I search the dark recesses of my head for answers there are none. It is just so, I have always known.
He was back again, my arms folded across my back and the rough rope wrapped around my wrists, binding me and wrapping me in a cocoon of immobility, defenseless. I felt myself drip.
He toyed with me some more, before pulling me to my feet. By now my knees were weak from the waiting and adrenaline rushing through me. Over to the sofa, bent over, my head on the cushion, on show. The brush of something and the sting across my bare bottom causing an intake of breath. A few more, not too hard. I sensed there was more to come. He pulled me up and sat on the sofa, I knelt and heard his zip. I wanted so much to please; I wanted him to want me. I just wanted…it was my weakness, and he took from it.
When he was happy that I’d pleased him a while he pulled me up onto his knee, straddled to face him. I knew he was looking at me again, working me out. Deciding. ‘Should I take the blindfold off?’ he asked. Wanting to see him I instantly agreed.
Sudden light invaded my eyes, it took a few seconds to focus. ‘Hello’, we said. It all felt safe.
The day fell into shades of light and dark. Testing the waters, seeing where boundaries might lie. Laughter suddenly being lost when it fell into a violent intensity of slaps, or powerful hands round my throat, or the lash of the crop. Then being calmed with a hug and a ‘Good girl’, and the occasional reminder of what a whore I am. There was a simmering depth to the play…a knowledge there was more.
The knife that came out of the kitchen drawer as I was making him tea, there was fear, but bound up in that there was a trust. He wouldn’t hurt me too much – would he? His enjoyment of my discomfort was evident. My arousal even greater, the dark doors opening. He was careful to matter of factly show me that you can place quite a lot of pressure on a blade without too much damage. I could not help flinching against the sharpness on my back, more so when it came between my breasts. The point digging into me, I tried not to breath too hard in case it was my fault I got hurt and not his. The scratches and pinprick holes laid testament to his travels.
We casually drank our tea, chatted in an easy way, both now worn from the rollercoaster day. There was nothing difficult about his company. Now relaxed he again pulled me across to straddle him. Before pulling out the lighter he had also acquired from the kitchen. I looked at him again fearful. The sensation of burning is a difficult one, I flinched. He made me ride him whilst holding the flame against the top of my leg, telling me several time to hold still and holding me when I cried out and moved. Telling me I was a good girl and gently reminding me he had not said to stop. He knew the waves of intensity that were spreading through me. He let me ride them out.
More smiles and relaxed chat, before his hand wrapped itself around my throat once more, almost a parting gift as our time was coming to an end. But this time he took both hands and pressed. The intensity of that pain was all consuming, panic descended. This I didn’t like, and it was not stopping. I struggled, pointlessly. Finally he let go and moved around my body, prodding pressure points, finding weaknesses. But although they hurt, none in the same terrifying way as my neck.
He knew the effect it had, he moved his hands back and my heart responded with panic again ‘Count to 10’ he said. So I did, slowly trying to put off the inevitable and knowing that it would not. As his pressure increased I was told to count to 10 again. The temptation to count quicker now was high, but I knew that he would know. The tears were mounting. He looked at me and the same cycle was repeated, this time the anticipation causing greater panic. The tears sprung, the panicked attempts to escape increased. Ordered to count and look at him I did so, feeling a slight calm under the panic. On whispering the final ‘10’ I was released. Reminded that I was a good girl and enveloped in his arms as he allowed my tears to roll. I know my tears pleased him.
Calm restored once more, brief moments of teasing play whilst things were packed away and he dressed. Smiles were shared, goodbyes were said and he departed.
Later that night having gotten painfully into the bath (He had left me with many reminders of the day), I pondered the day’s events, and wondered, was it the start of a dark adventure? I had behaved shamefully, been fearful and been humiliated, I should not have wanted more, but I did. I knew, if he asked, I would…
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The First Time - 
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