The feeling of the silk against your wrists sends a surge of warmth along every inch of your skin; the creamy, weightless softness lets you know that nothing you feel after this moment will be in your own hands. The eroticism of such a thought drifts directly between your thighs – you tremble in anticipation.
You are told not to speak, told simply to lose yourself in the experience. The blindfold further locks you inside yourself, keeping you fantasising about the sensations, amplifying every light touch on your skin. The delicate contact across your cleavage and across your nipples makes your skin tingle.
You almost become afraid of how sensitive your body is, just as the gentle sensation of a feather-tip touch manages to take your breath away. Your breath seems to follow the trail of the feather tip, the light touch drawing air up from the bottom of your lungs, tracing up your cleavage, forcing the breath out from your throat in a sigh of pure arousal.
The energising, sensual tickle which circles your breasts and teases your nipples seems to draw endless surges of longing to those swollen peaks. You realise that wherever the feather leads, it brings every ounce of your thoughts with it, regardless of whether you are trying to avoid the feelings or not.
Lost in your own lustful thoughts, you have become a slave to your body.
Your mind’s eye follows every little flutter of sensation that trails down your abdomen, down between your thighs. The focus between your legs makes your body melt with longing, so aware of how responsive you are to even the slightest contact.
You wonder how such a small amount of contact could make you quiver with need so much. Your hands strain against the wrappings around them, not to escape. It is simply your body trying to regain a sense of control… a sense of control that those fingertips against the smooth mound of those panties are quickly taking away. Just think of how it will feel once that thin line of defence which rests so tightly against your sex is removed.
Lost behind the blindfold, left to wander through your own imagination; the slightest contact with your clitoris is all that your mind and body can comprehend. It is as if the world itself is focusing on manipulating your most sensitive little spot, so intense that nothing could possibly exist after these moments.
The ice seems to pull every nerve-ending of your body along with its cold, captivating touch. It renders you speechless. Nothing could prepare you for that – the feeling of such a silky smooth, cold, sliding touch that manages to make your insides feel hotter. The shock of such a feeling keeps your nipples tingling with arousal; for a moment, your attention has been pulled away from your aching pussy, yet attention draws back there just as fast.
So close… yet so slow and deliberate. All self-control over your body has been overcome by the sharp, wet tingle that the ice cube trails across your skin. Not being able to see it makes the sensation manifest itself deep within you, making every touch linger for so long.
The moment it touches your bare sex, your world implodes in a flash of intensity.
The cold ice sinks against your hot mound…
You cannot take something so directly intense against your delicate body, yet there is no choice. These unfathomable sensations are not being offered to you. They are being thrust upon you.
The heat of your pussy melts the ice fast, leaving only the press of wet fingertips to rub hard against your sex.
Your hands tied, your eyes blindfolded – you are rendered a helpless single entity of pleasure. Your entire body is now an erogenous zone; no matter how much you try, nothing will stop the attention from being focused on the points which devour you the most intensely. When you feel your thighs being pushed and held apart, you know there is no stopping it. Your first orgasm will only mark the beginning of this night.
Content created by: PleasureTorture
Image source from: FayeReagan