good boy

“When this leash is on, there is to be no talking. Do you understand?”

Her voice is steady, her eyes are solemn. My body feels taut and I’m watching her lips form the words, poised to respond, ready to please her in thought and in deed. Her right hand holds the chain leash, thumb on the spring loaded clip, her left hand is cupped under my chin. I’m kneeling on her bed, as I was told to, naked but for the collar. She, as always, is fully clothed. I nod. I understand. Her thumb caresses my lower lip and she squeezes my chin and smiles. “Good boy.”

She loops the leash over the cross bar of the headboard and back through the loop of the handle, securing it. She clips the other end to the large ring hanging from the leather at my throat and I am tethered, otherwise unbound, but nonetheless right where she wants me to be. “You’re going to wait here while I shower.” I nod and her hand roams over my shoulder, down my back and hip, but then her touch ends and she’s gone. Moments later I hear the shower start.

I wait. Five minutes, then ten, maybe more. I try to be still, to savor her instructions, to give myself over to her will. I know in exchange she will take my mind and body in her hands and we will experience a depth of connection we have found in no other way, nor through any other means. This is magic and ritual and everything sacred and intimate. My body is alert and my mind is quiet.

She returns. I remain silent, eyes down, unmoved by the time alone, obedient. Her tone is huskier, darker when she speaks again: “Put your right arm out, please. From your side. Yes like that.”As I move my arm, as instructed, I allow my eyes to shift so I catch a glimpse of her. She’s topless in dark blue velvet panties and a strap-on harness. I don’t dare touch her but my mind is flooded with a million thoughts of exactly how the soft pile of that warm velvet would feel against my face, how damp and sweet against my lips. I narrow my focus again and I am confronted with a pale flesh colored cock bobbing mockingly from the apex of her thighs. In that moment I’m keenly aware that she’s going to fuck me with a cock that’s bigger than my own. This, of course, makes sense and is mildly soothing. Something about that is just so right. My resignation to her will makes my cock ache and weep, a sticky confessional that dribbles onto the sheets.

She takes her time, moving fluidly, confidently, as she loops loose skeins of rope over my outstretched arm. I can already feel the oncoming fatigue in my shoulder. My arm shakes as she unpacks the rope from the duffel bag in the bottom of the closet. She is methodical and purposeful in her movements and she begins to wrap my ankles in rope, snugly, evenly. I shudder and begin to sweat holding the waiting ropes, my arm still extended and growing weak. I know she will tie that wrist last and that there’s exactly the right amount of rope needed because there is nothing superfluous about this. She is precise, she is exacting.

She folds my bound ankles so that the bottoms of my feet press into the backs of my thighs. She takes more rope, thankfully, from my trembling arm, and binds my foot to my thigh, repeats the tie with the other leg and then moves to my left arm. A simple square knot secures my left wrist to the bed frame. She moves around the bed to my right side and squats beside the bed, our eyes are level as she takes the last piece of rope off my waiting arm. I can’t help but moan as her hand rubs deep into my shoulder, feeling along the length of my arm to my wrist. Her eyes are flinty and cool in the low light, her brow is serious but when she speaks a smile plays at the corner of his lips. I’ve pleased her.

“Very good,” is all she says as she ties my second wrist like the other, the muscles of my arm slowly burning less. She jangles the chain as she undoes the loop securing it to the bed. Re-attaching it to my collar she feeds it under my body so that the loop of the handle and a couple feet of chain come out from between my legs. The chain is cold and as she pulls it taut I whimper as I feel her wrap it around the base of my cock and balls. Her hand slides up my spine, gently, petting me softly before her palm caresses the back of my head and she slowly pushes my face into the bed. Her hands move to my hips, one still grasping the handle of the leash, fingers pressing into my flesh. She pauses before I hear and feel her step back to look at the position she has me in: face down, bound tight to the bed, hips up, on my knees, legs doubled into immobile stumps. My ass is spread and fully exposed to her gaze, all of me is exposed. I breathe slowly, deeply, relaxing into the anticipation. There is no anxiety, only trust. I am calm, it’s like being in a dream or waking within one. I wait again (Seconds? Minutes?) until she speaks:

“And now … We begin.”

Violet Fawkes

Violet Fawkes (she/her) is a freelance writer and sex blogger focusing on pleasure education, erotic fiction, and the intersection of identity, kink and mental health.