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Stories and Fantasy

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Lights Out Sex

Author: Daddy Treacherous

Filed in: vision, abstract, mental fantasy

Sexual deprivation in: ‘The Mind of a Slave / Sub’ My mouth, tongue, lips occupied. My wrists, bound, my eyes covered. Maybe even my ears muffled, breasts bound, maybe even nipples clamped. Maybe my head & hands are in a stockade. To restrict the senses from sensing anything but numbing pain, angst, anguish, already beginning. Air off. Heat off.  Silent, still, waiting, & wondering. A movement, a noise, any noise, that foretold of someone being there with me. Footsteps echo away, a door hinge creeks, sniffing the air for the smell of a saving grace of any kind. My mind teasing me, causing my breath to quicken, palms to sweat, biting down hard on my bit. A sound, a chain rattles, the faint smell of incense thru shroud…. Maybe, maybe its incense, maybe something’s burning, fire…. Maybe. Maybe those are footstep drawing nearer, closer, distant, gone. Heart races with hope…. hope, hope. No. Nothing, nothing that can be recognized as being human, this sub-human, sub, submits, submissively, straining to remember where I am, what the true distance is from the door to where I stand, kneel, or lay. How many steps, how much time has passed?  Nervous, panting, wanting to call out, wanting to run into safe arms, arms which will hold and leave beliefs of a safer time. Mentally establishing that it’s not safe, coming to terms, there are no arms, hopelessness seeps into the left-sided brain thinker, fearing moving, maybe he’s watching me, quietly standing waiting for the slightest flinch to justify flogging the hell out of me….  Stand steady, kneel without wobble, back straight, lay motionless. Your last command, spirit freefalls into a sight blackened abyss. Losing sense of self, losing feeling in my feet, numbness begins to set in, how long standing, kneeling, laying, palms skyward. Inevitably, my entire questionable existence is in the hands of another. Release this much power to someone else…. Trust, try, trust, must, there is a place within me that says what if…what if this is the day that he decides not to tell me that I cannot. Raw, and now juicily my flesh dangles before him, for him, all for him to do with, torture, torque, tighten, taught, upon his rack….I’m bound. For Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, except for the guy she pissed off….  Unable to free myself, free…. concept… unreal thought, freely finding myself thru the loss of myself, free, free me, free fall, falling deeper thru the dusky hue of his whim. I beg for mercy, thru wrapped mouth, knees bowed, eyes lowered, palms raised, totally bound & stripped naked at the merciless mercy of another.  I shall not be suffered to pass…    

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