Silken texture against my eyes it blocks out my vision, the fabric holds the heat of my body pleasantly to my brow. A contrast to the cold metal cuffs binding me, wrist and tightly against my waist, otherwise I am nude. On her bed I am but a pleasure tool.
Her bed an, alter to my submission, warm cotton sheets, soft pillows, and a firm mattress. I am but a temporary addition, a fleshy sacrifice to her pleasure, my one earthly goddess, willing and honored to provide my body to her. This is her place, she is the priestess, the officiate, of the ceremony, but also the one to be worshiped and praised.
So I find myself blinded and shackled, worshiping at her most sacred of feminine places. My tongue laps, and probes at her soft moist flesh, the sweet waters of her flow about my mouth and over my face. Her pleasure too pours out of her; I am gifted with the sounds of her moans, whimpers, and the panting of her breath. On and on I am urged in my worship of her, her pleasure, and her sacred place where life springs from.
A different time and place.
Being nude before he is commonplace, being bound by her is commonplace, and yet I am still made to feel humbled and vulnerable. On the couch my hands are secured to hooks placed in the back causing my arms to be held apart and my head to hang back. By her command only do my feet stay planted on the floor and legs spread wide.
She knows that vision can powerfully affect a male and so she has robbed my of my sight by virtue of a blind fold, in part her own sweetly scented panties. She is about to give me a gift, but like any commoner receiving a boon from his Queen I must be reminded of my place, and so I am not permitted to see her.
As it is the only comfortable posture for her she kneels in front of me, I am not permitted to see this. It is not her place to kneel to scrap and serve that is where I belong. But this is a gift, one given out of love, and sincere appreciation for my service, my devotion, she suffers the lowering of herself for this short moment.
Her lips touch the phallus, a part of my body that has been given over to her ownership. Love, pleasure, submission, worship, pain, are all mystical, ethereal, magical bonds that hold us together, but this fleshy piece of meat is the physical object of out relationship. This piece of flesh bears the wait of all the other ties; it is her most valuable property, and my most cherished part. We have in the name of our marriage used it for pleasure and to worship her, and to punish and train my submission.
Her lips are warm and moist, her tongue dances, her head moves is playful motions, and soon I erupt into her waiting mouth, lips held tight around the shaft until my pleasure abates
. Then she kisses me and my salty leaving slid down into my belly.
Her bed an, alter to my submission, warm cotton sheets, soft pillows, and a firm mattress. I am but a temporary addition, a fleshy sacrifice to her pleasure, my one earthly goddess, willing and honored to provide my body to her. This is her place, she is the priestess, the officiate, of the ceremony, but also the one to be worshiped and praised.
So I find myself blinded and shackled, worshiping at her most sacred of feminine places. My tongue laps, and probes at her soft moist flesh, the sweet waters of her flow about my mouth and over my face. Her pleasure too pours out of her; I am gifted with the sounds of her moans, whimpers, and the panting of her breath. On and on I am urged in my worship of her, her pleasure, and her sacred place where life springs from.
A different time and place.
Being nude before he is commonplace, being bound by her is commonplace, and yet I am still made to feel humbled and vulnerable. On the couch my hands are secured to hooks placed in the back causing my arms to be held apart and my head to hang back. By her command only do my feet stay planted on the floor and legs spread wide.
She knows that vision can powerfully affect a male and so she has robbed my of my sight by virtue of a blind fold, in part her own sweetly scented panties. She is about to give me a gift, but like any commoner receiving a boon from his Queen I must be reminded of my place, and so I am not permitted to see her.
As it is the only comfortable posture for her she kneels in front of me, I am not permitted to see this. It is not her place to kneel to scrap and serve that is where I belong. But this is a gift, one given out of love, and sincere appreciation for my service, my devotion, she suffers the lowering of herself for this short moment.
Her lips touch the phallus, a part of my body that has been given over to her ownership. Love, pleasure, submission, worship, pain, are all mystical, ethereal, magical bonds that hold us together, but this fleshy piece of meat is the physical object of out relationship. This piece of flesh bears the wait of all the other ties; it is her most valuable property, and my most cherished part. We have in the name of our marriage used it for pleasure and to worship her, and to punish and train my submission.
Her lips are warm and moist, her tongue dances, her head moves is playful motions, and soon I erupt into her waiting mouth, lips held tight around the shaft until my pleasure abates
. Then she kisses me and my salty leaving slid down into my belly. “Did that feel good?”
“Yes”
“Are you motivated to continue to serve?”
“Yes.”
Good with a few more years of dedication you can earn that again.”
