Tuesday, December 8, 2009


        She looks amazingly good like that. Her hands tied together and pulled up so high above her head that only her toes are touching the ground. Unclothed, her pale skin glistens with the effort she is putting into keeping her balance. Her large and perfect breasts pulled up high, her stomach stretched taut, heaving with her labored breathing. Desperation has begun showing in her eyes as the shock of her situation has worn off. It’s always about the eyes for me. I can see so much in peoples eyes and it shows me a glimpse of what people are really like or what the really want as plain as day, but I digress. We must return to the events unfolding with our beautiful captive.
         My eyes go back to their wonderful journey over my captives straining body. I stand in front of her, silent, my eyes taking in every tiny detail of her while letting her see me do it. I want her to see my examination or her. I want her to feel my eyes on her skin. My gaze travels once again down her stomach as I take in the beauty of muscles flexing under her perfect, pale skin. No hair at all on her body until my eyes finally reach her center. I pause here taking in this point of absolute perfection as she struggles to conceal her sex from my view.  I smirk at her efforts as she is forced to allow me to view her as I wish or continue to let her body pull down painfully on her shoulders and wrists. I devour this image taking in the contrast of her dark pubic hair against her pale skin. This point where her legs meet her torso is as perfect as I had hoped she would be.
         My eyes move leisurely back up her body to lock with her gaze catching that look of fear and embarrassed humiliation telling me just how deeply I have begun to affect her with my silent examination. There are tears wetting her cheeks now and her desperate fear has finally taken a hold of her senses adding to her already considerable beauty. There is nothing as stunning as the female body stretched taut and completely at my mercy, the tears just make it better.
         Now the questions and the yelling, this part bores me. They always ask the same droll questions; the same worn out phrases.
        “What is going on?” Her voice pleads to me for an answer.
         You seem to be hanging from the ceiling of my living room, dear. I answer in my head.
         “Why are you doing this to me?” Her voice cracks with this question.
         The simplest answer would be to tell that I am doing this because I like it, but that would be far too simple and would negate all that I want to teach you. Again not one word out loud.
         “I thought we were friends!” Now she thinks yelling at me will work better than pleading with me.
         We are friends, my dear which is why I picked you.
           I have answered all her questions yet not given her a single answer out loud. I continue to say nothing to her as I let her expend her energy and effort struggling for answers I will only give her when I deem she can have them, never in response to her desperate inquiries. She is allowed no control so naturally she gets no answers to any of her questions; whereas when I ask a question, I will get an answer! I will explain myself when I decide, and that’s if I decide to explain anything at all.
            Now I walk behind and out of her view to continue taking in the sights of her body. This action has the added effect of increasing her fear as well. The human mind has a wonderful ability to fill in the blanks when we lack information, and with this much fear added, this poor young lady will imagine all kinds of terrible possibilities for what I could be doing behind her. I smile with that thought; this IS supposed to be fun for me after all.
             Her dark curly hair falls over her shoulders and has been dampened with her sweat causing the ends to stick to her skin like hundreds of tiny fingers grasping at her nakedness. The muscles in her back are as taut as those in her stomach and they lead my eyes lower on her body. I am now taking in my favorite part of a woman’s body. Where the back ends and the legs begin is perfection.
            I have seen enough for now. She is pleading and crying to me, and the site of her in this condition, naked, defenseless and mine to control, is one of the most sexually exciting situations there could ever be. I move back in front of her and smile slightly before shutting of the lights and leaving the room, we will continue later on when I deem it is time. As I lay in bed drifting off to sleep I am serenaded by her sobs and pleas for help…..there is no more relaxing music in the world.