Page 123 of S is for SEX

EMILY

June 27, 2006

Being deprived of my eyesight wasn’t something I had ever dreamed of happening to me, nor was it something I ever thought could or would be sensual. What little I knew of being blind was that the remaining senses, according to my understanding at least, were heightened or more refined.

I now had first-hand information to support my previous beliefs.

Long after he walked out of the room - and he had done so several times already - the smell of his cologne lingered. When he returned, his footsteps echoed throughout the house until he reached the carpeting in the bedroom. His breathing sounded as if he were a bull preparing to charge the matador in some third world country - even though I realized it was no different than any other breathing that had gone unnoticed on previous nights we had spent together. I had no idea of how long I had been deprived of my sight, but I suspected it had been at least a few hours.

I knew one thing and one thing only.

The size of the wet spot my overly aroused pussy had deposited on the comforter was large enough I could feel it against my hips.

With my hands and feet secured to each corner of the bed, I was face down, naked, blindfolded, and whatever the polar opposite of exhausted would be. I felt the way I suspected a meth-head would feel after smoking a paycheck’s worth of rock over the course of a weekend. As my heart continued to beat out of my chest in anticipation of what may or may not be happening next, Jackson startled me as he dragged something along the skin of my inner thigh.

My every muscle tensed and my pussy ached as if it were going to pop.

I bit my lower lip and pressed my face into the comforter. Enveloped in complete darkness, I could hear the springs in the mattress creaking as he shifted his weight from side-to-side on the bed.

The tickling of my inner thigh ceased. Short of the ceiling fan and his breathing, the room was now silent. In the distance, I heard the refrigerator humming. The sound of the ceiling fan whirring above me became the center of my focus, the dull drone comforting me, slowly bringing me back down to earth with each rotation.

I flinched as I felt something pressing against my aching pussy. Whatever it was slid inside of me without much effort what so ever. As I moaned into the surface of the cool comforter, I wondered if his decision to not gag my mouth was by mistake or part of a careful plan he had devised.

As I became lost in what I now believed was his finger inside of me, I decided nothing Jackson did would be without thought.

Having him not speak to me the entire time was something that took a little getting used to, but looking back on the entire experience, his initial demand of ‘unless I speak to you, do not say a word’ answered my question of whether or not the lack of a gag was intentional.

He was testing my ability to follow his demands.

Or something of that nature.

As his finger slowly worked my pussy into a lathered up little mess, I decided I really didn’t give a fuck if he planned it or not. Whatever he was doing was working and working well. I had never been so sexually aroused in my life, and I felt as if each minute would certainly be my last, my death a result of some profound reaction of my brain’s inability to process my aching twat’s signals into meaningful feelings. His finger continued to torture me, the tip tickling my g-spot with each stroke. An odd tingling sensation began deep inside my pussy and rang throughout my body, eventually making my overly sensitive nipples feel as if they were being mildly electrocuted. I had officially reached the point of climax, a heightened feeling of sexual bliss I had never known to exist. All as the result of a little light tickling, slapping my ass with a paddle, and his finger inside of me.

I bit into the down comforter and prepared for an earth shattering orgasm which was slowly building within my soul.

He pulled his finger from my pussy and wiped it on my cheek.

Fuck.

His breathing came closer and closer until I felt it against my neck. As the warmth of his breath against my ear caused me to wince in anticipation, he spoke the first words I had heard in hours.

“If you have an orgasm, I’m going to deprive you of sex for six months. Is that understood?” he asked.

I nodded my head, “Uh huh.”

His weight shifted from the bed. I heard light footsteps across the room, some shifting of objects, and slight weight on the edge of the bed again.

Whack!

I felt the pain a fraction of a second after the sound of the paddle slapping my ass filled the room. I yelped out in pain against the comforter.

The stinging was like fire against my skin. I tensed my muscles and pulled against my fur lined restraints, preparing for another slap of the paddle against my overly sensitive skin. The cool flat surface of the paddle pressing against my left cheek startled me as his breath filled my right ear.

“If you have an orgasm, I’m going to deprive you of sex for six months. Is that understood? A Yes, Sir, or a No, Sir will suffice as a response,” he breathed into my ear.

I swallowed heavily, licked my lips, and responded.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmured.

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