B ~ Mr. Bondage

bondage 2

Dear Mr. Bondage,

Ah those times I sharply sucked in my breath. You, looking at me with a half-smile and focused on my face and intensified breathing while tying my ankles to the bed. It was the combination of tightening the rope and my audible breath that turned us both on. Me, having no idea what you were going to do to me, and after being blindfolded straining to get audible clues of where and how you would touch me. Being tied up and aroused took my mind off the fact that I didn’t actually find you that interesting, and that I was never going to fall in love with you.

The morning after our third date we lay in bed and talked about our turn-ons and what was still on our sexual bucket list. I mentioned bondage and you casually dropped the fact that as an avid rock climber you had rope and fuses within reach. Before I knew what had happened, I was spread-eagled on the bed. And strangely enough, even though I barely knew you, I felt completely safe. Maybe because everything you do is so organized, proper and predictable I needed this extra factor to make me forget that honestly, I wasn’t that attracted to your personality. Want to blindfold me? Go ahead. Want to tie me to the staircase and fuck me there? Sure. Want me to wear a corset and knee-high boots? Just tell me which color.

Yes, I had fun. I enjoyed how I had no choice but to surrender when tied up. I love how all my senses sharpen waiting and wanting to be touched. I experienced how as a sub I was the one in control. We played by your suggestions and my rules. But though you entertained me, you never inspired me. The ropes keeping me down gave an extra dimension to our sex-life, but in every other aspect I was constantly reminded of the fact that you were the one who was tied down. Little by little I became tired of hitting myself against the bars of the cage you had built around yourself. I was becoming a bland version of myself around you, and I didn’t like it. Eventually bondage wasn’t enough to keep us tied together. I needed to break free.

It took a while before I got tied up again after the last time we shared a bed. And I didn’t miss it either. It made me a little uncomfortable when the last time we bumped into each other, you casually mentioned you were single again and wouldn’t mind if I came over. You had new rope. I politely declined. I can still feel aroused when imagining the rope tightening around my wrists and ankles. But after you, I need to feel what it’s like to surrender to a lover, instead of his ropes.

With hugs, which I hope you can feel through your armor,

Ms. Alphabet

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