I haven’t played with chains in real life to date. So I took this week’s prompt not only as my introduction to participating in the #MasturbationMonday fun, but also as an opportunity to explore where my mind might go when tempted to consider this kind of foreign play.
The result is shorter than my usual tales because it’s more of a whimsical sketch of a moment than a complete story. It’s a little poetic and a tad verbose, so very On Brand in that regard, I’d say. At any rate, I felt some new feels by going on this little journey. I hope you find some enjoyment in it too.
I hear her telltale twinkle echoing all around me as she drags along the floor in my direction. She is tantalizingly slow in her advance…
Until she crashes beside me with the cacophonous clang of her whipping at the ground nearby
She slices the air with grace despite her harsh and clamorous nature; she displaces my heady arousal like a strong swimmer’s arm moves through water.
I can’t see her. My blindfold hasn’t wavered despite the series of tremors running sprints along my spine. But the chorus of her eerie paradoxical voices racks every nerve in me.
And now, this silence in the wake of her arrival is excruciating and foreboding.
Knelt before her, I have no choice but to wait for her to come to me.
My breathing shallows. The moments before we reunite always leave me a little shaken, anxious for the shock of her touch.
I start when she finally snakes her cold scales across the tops of my thighs. Her soft, tinkling laugh at my reaction grips tightly around the raw tendrils that keep my heart from flushing down the drain of my whirling anticipation. Her caress, always soft at first, lulls me into a sense of naive comfort. But I know what ruthlessness awaits, and I’m desperate to feel the weight of her dominion over me. On me.
Clink, clink, clink.
She sings timeless, forgotten hymns to me, crooning promises of emancipation and ascension as she runs her heavy threads between and around my folds, tracking my transgressions one link at a time.
Her cold embrace is not as forgiving as her woven sister. She takes little warning bites at my flesh whenever I dare wriggle against her clutches. This is her not-so-gentle way of reminding me of her stalwart dominance over my malleable form.
As she wraps herself around me, she becomes a part of me, absorbing my heat, my energy, until our surfaces have soldered together completely by a filler of sweat, and need, and unbridled trust.
She is unexpectedly tender in her advance as she clings and digs into more of my flesh, while I am tenderized by our union. She settles into the gravity of her harsh benevolence and I welcome her deeper into me.
She melts past my purpling surface, dissipating into shadows only she can see. She winds around my blackened heartstrings like silver alloy vines, fortifying my rigging with her shining power until my heat reduces her to liquid metal inside me, her amalgam filling my every cavity.
We are bound at every node, and I am electrified by her charge.
I exhale, finding stillness as I surrender completely to her force, allowing her to grasp me however she sees fit. The darkness swallows me whole, and I am held firm to the earth by the weight of her wicked love.
The prompt image for this week was provided by the lovely Vitoria Blisse and first published as Chained Pain.
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