It starts with your wrists. One and then the other
collected and pressed together behind your back.
Instant vulnerability. If his hand lifts to your face,
you can't stop him. If he pushes you down,
you can't break your fall. It's so simple, but already
you are reliant on him. Next, he lifts the gag.
Obediently you open your mouth. It's large,
larger than you remember. Your jaw stretches,
your tongue feels out the shape of it in your mouth.
Hands work behind your head, tightening it,
until those straps dig into your cheeks. Is that ok?
he asks you. You can nod, or you can mumble,
but you can't speak. No, stop, please, more, mercy.
They're all gone. The only thing escaping your lips
is drool, sliding undignified down your chin.
He kneels down in front of you, but not
in submission. Warm hands wrap around your ankle.
Squeeze for a moment. Then cool leather
replaces his touch. Spread, he tells you. No, wider.
You shuffle awkwardly, off balance. Not enough.
He forces your feet far enough apart you fear
you might topple over. One click and then another.
The spreader bar holds you in position. Like
a puppet on a string, you are now his to maneuver.
One last thing, he muses. A blindfold drops
over your eyes. Can't move, can't see. Can only
listen as he moves. Footsteps. A low clanking.
An arm around your middle makes you gasp.
When did he move behind you? He propels you
across the room, until your shins hit the bed.
A hand between your shoulders moves you down.
Down. Until your faces presses into the covers.
Off balance. Your legs stay straight, your ass
is higher than your head. Can't get up, can't move.
Can only wait to see what he has in store.
Between your legs, your cunt is soaked. Pulsing.
A helpless plaything who loves n
othing more
than to be played with.