The Binding

The lift is excruciatingly slow. Pleasant music plays softly, but I can barely hear it over the singing of blood in my ears. I try to compose myself. After all, I don't want to be a lusty mess on arrival. Then the lift chimes and I alight, my eyes seizing upon door numbers Yes, here we are. Behind this door, paradise. I smooth my tie against my freshly ironed shirt. A small gesture. It will not remain around my neck for long. My fingers fumble with the key card. Why do they make electronic locks so temperamental? Can it not feel my need radiating forward? Then it clicks and the door swings upon.

The lights are dim. I feel candle smoke tickle my nostrils. Is it a temple I have entered? The edifice was not so grand, it cannot be. But incense burns, it must be. A temple to Venus then. And there is Venus, the deity herself, lounging upon vast bed like it is a cloud and she is light as air. Venus wears not her furs, but silk, satin and lace. Her golden hair falls about her flawless skin. I enter this dim grotto hesitantly. Am I worthy before this goddess? Eyelashes batter, beckon and bewitch. My feet pull me toward the bed.

Does music play or does the song of the lift echo in the now empty chambers of my mind? Thought has escaped me. Eros is ascendant and I am his avatar. No longer do I fear unworthiness. My purpose is materialised before me, an epiphany of lace and sensuous flesh. I am here to worship. But this mistress demands not the prostration of mortals. I can feel it in her expectant gaze, deep blue eyes setting forth a challenge. Worship here is not in empty prayer but in the surge of action. So I act.

I feel her tremble in my grasp. Does the divine play games with me, or are my nerves so charged that the faintest shudder becomes the pounding of Vulcan's forge? I have no time to ponder this mystery. I feel your skin in my grasp and seize upon it. My fingers dance hither and tither. Soft flesh of bosom becomes my stage. In a sudden movement I free the clasp that binds silken bra, letting it fall to the bed. Now I feast. Pink nipples stand proud like church steeples. I take one in my mouth, then the other. I am sure I can hear fluttering of heart and breast now, so close I am to its source. My own breathing hastens in response. Still my hands roam.

I want everything. I want to take your lips against mine. I want to squeeze and embrace your form completely. I want to feel your mons Venus against the heel of my palm, the thick but neat triangle of fur pressed against my hand while my fingers plunge into the hot wetness below. But I resist this wanton groping. This is a temple and I am reverent. Instead, I eagerly perform the ritual that pleases you, the Binding. First I take one delicate wrist in hand and encircle it in satin. With measured movement I bind it to the bed post. The other wrist is soon bound thus to its respective post. Then follow the ankles, such that you become a star, gleaming white like a great pearl, my masterwork. My artifice holds you fast. The rite must continue. You are within my control as I am within yours. I feel the heat of your flush bosom as you await my next move.

At last Eros and Venus are joined. Remaining barriers have been removed and nothing lies between us. You cannot move much. No, you are bound. It is my task to thrust and buck and excite. Oh, it is an honour this task. My hips flex and relax in rhythm, slow at first that you feel every centimetre, read the topography of my devotion within you. Then I hasten. I fall upon you, again and again and again. Groans and growls fill the room. My previous restraint has disappeared. As I feel our pleasure rising I take your bare, vulnerable neck in my hands and squeeze. You have surrendered to my power. The impression of my fingers on your skin recalls shackles, a collar. A slave to desire. I ride you. Your hot, wet hole grips me, encourages me. Your wild eyes pull me to greater passion.

Then climax arrives. I push forward to fill you as completely as possible, to deliver my offering as deep as I can. You have orgasmed, I know it. I can see it, although my eyes have become dazed and my periphery is red and nothing is visible but you beneath me. I can feel it, although my skin is on fire and my heart is pounding and all the world could be ablaze around us and I would not know. My every sense reveals this divine truth. In this tremendous moment we have become the one being, so completely whole and real and together that everything else has ceased and we now exist on a separate plane. The ritual is over. The Binding complete: we are bound. I take again your wrists, your ankles, and untie you. Then I wrap you in tender embrace and we fall softly back to this world, this bed, and sleep takes us.