DepravedPrincess

Leather and latex gets me wet... tie me up and I'm in your debt.

I've been thinking more lately about what truly brings joy in these dark times. A quick one-and-done is nice for all of a few minutes before you're left wanting more.

I've found it's the small tactile pleasures that bundle the most joy for me. The rattle of a padlock that secures the top of the stocks in place. The warmth of a finger as it hovers lazily over folds that have nowhere else to go, even if they wanted to. The rubbery squeak of a palm spanking a latex-clad derriere. The first droplets of drool escaping a ball-gagged mouth, their wet trail another sign of control slipping away from their owner.

The little impetuous ripples across the body as I fight a snug hogtie, the kind I arrogantly claimed I could handle and am now too proud to ask for help getting out of, no matter how much my shoulders ache or the roots of my hair are pulled or how uncomfortably my stomach presses into the hardwood table you've chosen to display me on as you affectionately stroke the taut strands of my hair. The tickle of your breath as you whisper sweet encouragements into my ear, counting down the minutes until I earn a reward for my troubles... not release from the ropes, but the release of endorphins, forced out of my system with a powerful vibrator held in just the right place. The natural high that I need to endure another stretch of time in your ropes, until the process repeats ad nauseum. Until you bore of me. Or heaven forbid, until you have mercy on my whimpering struggles.

The hollow pangs of desire, ghosts of memories past, now locked away behind a solid steel plate to which only you hold the key. The wide pleading eyes I weaponise against you, to no avail, ever desperate to find a crack in your resolve, a hint of indecision I can leverage into letting my starved sex breathe and feel the stroke of my fingers again after so long. The perpetual eagerness to please that accompanies such desperation, ever hopeful I can earn my pleasure by making yours more and more satisfying each time your glans grace my lips.

It's these small tactile pleasures, this electric sort of energy derived from natural (and artificial) power imbalances, that serve as fresh reminders that what we do is weird and wonderful, and so few are lucky to experience it for themselves.

Here's to the owners of stocks, the lovers of latex, masters of rope, chastity keyholders, and to those who've perfected the art of when and how to gag a girl whose thoughts are in dire need of silencing. You guys are the true MVPs.