Pensive
Author: November
Filed in: submission, bondagei sit here, writing in the flickering candlelight, my wrists and ankles bound by heavy black leather. The supper i made has cooled on the stove top and still B is not home. He had some things He needed to take care of tonight but i am restless without Him. i've yet to eat. It seems my appetite has vanished.
i am very aware of the weight of my bonds. i chose to put them on myself tonight. i needed to feel weighted down, tethered, attached. They are, by turns, comforting and uncomfortable. Like now, every word i type feels as if it is being wrung from my fingertips, so heavy is the weight. Yet when i hear His tapping at the door (He has a key, yet still He knocks) i will feel weightless within their confines. Strange, that, how the mind works.
i bought these restraints for myself; i shopped carefully, looking for the set that i would be pleased to wear on my body. i wish He had bought them for me, but i suspect i am more moved by the wearing of my bonds than He. He trusts that i feel His pull on me and surely considers these cuffs a novelty, an aesthetic whim of mine He permits. And yes, i would be lying if i said i did not love how they looked on my flesh, the blackness of the leather straps interrupting the paleness of my skin, like harsh marks left by a loving Master. It keeps my mind in a submissive place; even my thoughts are kept anchored by their pull.
But what good is it now, to remind myself of my desires, when the supper i made has cooled on the stove and still B is not home.
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