Letting Go

She hadn't had any intention of ending up like this; blindfolded, naked, and kneeling in a puddle of wetness.

If she was very honest with herself, she wasn't quite sure what her expectations had been.

It all started with a mild curiosity brought on by a physical need, nay, a desperation, which left her wondering and squirming in more ways than one.

It had been a moment of madness in which she'd confessed her dark desperate fantasies to a stranger. Somehow the anonymity made it easier to confess her intimate thoughts to an unknown than to reveal her unknown thoughts to an intimate.

And now, she was here; blindfolded, naked, and kneeling in a puddle of wetness.

The intermediate details between that first moment of mental acquisitiveness, her confession, and her current state seemed almost irrelevant.

She met him at his house, a cosy little two up-two down in a quiet area. As she walked up his front path she glanced furtively around the street as if any peeping Toms would be able to read her mind and know exactly why she was there. Her hand shook slightly with nerves as she raised the hand to knock. Barely had she tapped once, and the door swung open, as if he had been standing just behind it, waiting to hear her tentative knock.

He was wearing jeans and a simple white t shirt. He was barefoot, and somehow seeing his bare feet suddenly made her feel horribly overdressed, even though all she was wearing under her thin jacket was a simple summer dress, matching underwear, and thong sandals.

She noticed with immense relief that he was also wearing a bright welcoming smile. She wasn't sure what she'd expect, but somehow in her mind's eye she'd pictured a dispassionate aloof reception.

They had already discussed details of what she wanted, or rather where her fantasies had taken her, but now again, as he looked her in the eye, he asked her what she was hoping for, what her expectations were, what she anticipated to get out of this visit.

She couldn't quite answer him, at least not definitively.

But she knew now for certain that she had not expected to find herself like this; blindfolded, naked, and kneeling in a puddle of wetness.

He gave her a glass of water, urged her to finish it before they got started, and then, as he led her to his bedroom, handed her a bottle of Evian, encouraging her to sip from it with relative frequency.

She nodded obligingly.

He divested her of her clothing with no sense of intimacy or romance. He needed her naked, the clothes were in the way, it was a simple as that.

She stood naked before him, a cold chill sweeping through her and she nervously took a drink of water. Her slight tremble causing some of it to dribble out of her mouth, over her round breast and dripping off her erect nipple.

He watched the droplet fall to the floor as if it were of no consequence at all.

He turned her around, so she was standing with her back to him, as he pulled her against his body. With a sense of urgency, he grabbed both of her breasts with his hands, kneading them roughly and every so often giving her nipples a gentle tweak, a squeeze, or a pinch.

She yelped when he pinched them a little bit too hard. She didn't see it, but he smirked when he heard that tiny scream of pleasure pain.

The blindfold had been a specific request of hers, it had played a big part in her fantasy, but he decided to let her watch a little as he tied her. She needed to see how he started, to see the intensity in his expression. He needed to foster a sense of trust, she'd never let go without it. He needed her to see him.

"Drink," he encouraged her as he rooted around for his rope, "you won't be able to once I've got you properly tied."

She grinned nervously, and took a big long gulp, the sound of the plastic crumpling in her hands reverberating around the room.

He started by tying her breasts. It was going to be a simple tie, he assured her. Nothing too complicated for her first time, but enough to keep her in the position he wanted her to be.

She wasn't quite sure how he did it, but somehow she ended up with bound breasts, and her hands tied firmly behind her back. Her thighs had some rope around them, but she could move her legs freely, she was not immobilised.

He stood her in front of the mirror to see herself. She couldn't deny that the red rope against her white skin looked striking, and sexy. Damn, she could feel herself getting aroused, and the blush on her face almost matched the scarlet of the rope.

She saw his reflection grinning back at her. And that was the last thing she saw before he placed the black satin blindfold over her eyes.

He started slowly, teasing her with something light and feathery, letting it skim all over her skin. It made her shiver in excitement. The gentle touches seemed to be having a greater effect that any rough manhandling might. Every so often he would twang the rope against her skin, causing rippling sensations right into her core.

And those rippling sensations became ripples of something else. All that water she had practically been force-fed started creating waves inside her. She squirmed slightly.

He noticed.

It was time to turn up the heat.

He picked up the unfinished bottle of water and put it to her lips. The sensations in her bladder caused an instinctive shake of the head.

"Finish it," he demanded.

She opened her lips and allowed him to spill the remaining fluid into her mouth. She swallowed heavily. He kissed her gently on her moist lips with a warm whispered "well done."

He continued teasing her, slowly touching her with his fingers, ranging from barely feeling, to digging his fingers into her skin. Every so often he would twang the rope around her thighs, and each time he did, the sensations echoed into her bladder increasing her need. She now understood the reason for the thigh rope.

She started squirming. Waves of desperation coursed through her, the very same desperate waves that had aroused her mild curiosity that had set her on this path in the first place.

He noticed.

"You gotta go?" he enquired with a slight hint of smugness in his tone.

She nodded, almost afraid to speak.

"Too bad, darling, you gotta hold it," and then he leaned down and growled into her ear, "or you can let go."

She shook her head vehemently. She wouldn't... couldn't.

He increased his tactile attention. He was using something else now. It felt cold and hard, like steel. A knife, perhaps. Was he using a knife to tease her?

The though terrified her, a terror that increased her desperation.

She hopped from foot to foot, clenching her muscles.

He noticed.

It was time.

He led her a few short paces and ordered her to kneel. He had to help her due to her immobile arms. As she knelt down she noted the cold hardness of the floor, whereas previously she'd had carpet underfoot. She wasn't sure where he'd led her, but she heard a door closing, and somehow even behind the blindfold her world seemed to get darker.

She suddenly felt very small in an even smaller space. The sound of silence thundering in her ears. She couldn't feel his presence anymore, couldn't hear his breath. She was completely alone.

Alone and frightened.

Her fear reminded her of her desperate predicament, as she swayed from side to side furiously trying to hold on, to maintain a sense of control.

She felt tears forming in her eyes and coursing down her cheeks.

"Please," she called out in the silent darkness. She knew her pleas would be futile, but still she had to try.

The tears spilled from her eyes more fervently as her she swayed more ferociously.

"Please," she called out again, although this time it sounded more like a prayer, "please, please, please," she whispered into the soundless air.

And then, as if the universe was answering her prayer she knew what she had to do.

She stopped swaying, and with an unspoken "amen" resting on her lips she let go.

She gave up control and felt her internal warmth spilling out from inside her and pooling around her knees.

Suddenly she perceived light. The door to wherever she'd been isolated had opened like a reverent miracle and she felt free.

And that's how she found herself blindfolded, naked, and kneeling in a puddle of wetness.

And she could have sworn that some of that wetness had absolutely nothing to do with Evian.