I reach over to my bag, my own personal bag of tricks, you always joke. Pull out a blindfold. I don’t want you to see, only to feel, to experience. There’s a hesitancy in your eyes. “I told you, I own you,” I purr, as I slide the blindfold over your head, pushing firmly to make sure you cannot see. It is an old trick, but effective on you. You are beautiful, the blackness of the mask disappearing into your blackness.
Again to the bag of tricks, I choose a Wartenberg wheel. It is a particular favorite of mine. A way to tease, and assert. I slide my hand down your arm, then follow it with the wheel. “Don’t move!” I command. You twitch, and groan, then gasp as I move the wheel across your stomach. Tiny pinpricks, and you can feel each one. Your penis is no longer hard. Fear has taken care of that. But I don’t worry, you will soon find pleasure again. Maybe.
You lay as still as you can, afraid that the next move will be full of pain. I glide the wheel over and around your body, focusing on your larger muscles, arms, legs, chest. You whimper as I press a bit harder, seeking a reaction. Finally, I am finished with this.
“Time to turn over,” I sing. You have said not a word. I know what you want, and I know what I want. There is no need for additional conversation. You have told me all, just as you know my desires as well.
I stroke your back, wanting you to relax. This time is always peaceful, although I can tell by the way your hold your muscles that you cannot fully release your tension. Still, I try. Caress your strong shoulders that hold so much burden, pain, stress. I knead and whisper loving affirmations, a verbal caress. “You are loved. You do not need to hold onto the pain. You are safe.” I glide my fingers under your shoulder blades, applying the pressure you need. Push up along your spine, releasing, tensing, releasing again.
My hands flow towards your mahogany butt cheeks. So many attachments there, so much sensitivity. I slither along the outside, and you grip your cheeks together. I use two hands to massage one side, then the other, releasing the burdens. I continue on to your leg muscles. Has anyone ever touched your here? You groan quietly as I work on the kinks. Firm hand, deep strokes.
My fingers trail up your leg, and back to your manhood.