The Blindfold

The blindfold begins high on my forehead and extends down over my cheekbones and the bridge of my nose. It is made of supple white leather and lined with soft flannel. Thicker pads cover my eyes to completely block any light, and it fastens at the back of my head with a thick strap. It is a symbol of our agreement, of my submission and our mutual trust. I have never seen his face, but I would know his smell and the heat of his body anywhere. If we were to meet in public, if I were to shake his hand upon introduction, with one touch I would know him and the lights would go out.

erotic stories

I am lying on my back as an ice cube slowly traces the outlines of my breasts. My nipples are so hard they ache. Water trickles down my sides. I hear the rattle of the ice bucket and wonder where he will touch me next. Icy smoothness on my lips, I reach out the tip of my tongue to lap at the meltwater. He draws a line of cold over my chin, down my neck, between my breasts. I gasp as it traces lower across my belly, sucking in against the chill. He leaves it to melt in my navel. His hands grab me under my arms and I am dragged across the bed, my head hanging backward off the edge. I open my mouth and take his cock between my lips, still chilled from the ice. He thrusts deeper and I open wider. Fingers torture my nipples, pinching and pulling. My cunt reacts in a spasm. His cock is thrusting hard to the back of my throat. A shocking cold slides over my clit and then he pushes an ice cube inside me. I moan deeply as he pinches my nipples again. Cold water trickles out of my cunt. I feel his cock swell and then throb with his orgasm. As I swallow his cum my pussy throbs with my own need. Thrusting deep into my mouth, he leans over and sucks hard on my clit. Heat and cold collide in orgasm.
I always wear the blindfold when waiting for him to arrive. A modern version of Beauty and the Beast perhaps? Well, I’m not really a beauty I suppose and he’s not a beast that much I am sure of. I know him through all my senses save one. I have tasted his skin, felt his lips, heard his groans and inhaled his breath. There is no part of him I have not stroked, licked, or sniffed. While the blindfold remains in place I am free to do as I like.

I straddle his face and hover my pussy over his lips. My hands are in his hair, tugging him toward me. He licks and sucks, hard, just the way I love. “More,” I beg. Grinding down on him as I cum I know I have drenched him in juice. I imagine the way it runs down his chin, how he laps it up.
Occasionally I am bound by more than the blindfold. I am bent from my hips and face down on the bed. My arms are bound together above my head and each ankle bound to a leg of the bed. Spread open and accessible, waiting. I breathe deeply to calm myself, to release control, to accept. Even so I involuntarily flinch as something slender and vibrating touches the nape of my neck. It’s a common spot of vulnerability and one of my stronger erogenous zones. He glides the slim vibrator down my spine then up under my arm (which tickles) over and over. Soothing, lulling, it makes my whole body vibrate. He traces it over my buttocks and down my legs. I squirm and grind my nipples into the bedcovers. Then I feel him press it against my ass, right at the opening. Yes, yes, open me! The vibrations simultaneously excite and relax. I feel myself opening and pressing back against it only to be denied. Again he presses it just slightly into my ass and my body begs for more. Over and over again, until I am almost certain he will leave me frustrated. Then hands grip my hips and his cock drives into my ass. Glorious violation. Deeper and harder, no don’t be gentle, or it isn’t really ass fucking.
One night I am waiting, freshly showered and shaved all over. I sit listening for his footsteps on the stairs, for the key in the door, blindfolded. Relaxed in a soft overstuffed chair, blindfolded. Head resting back against the cushions, blindfolded. In my mind I trace the outlines of the blindfold; where it crosses just below the hairline on my forehead, over the top of an ear, around the back of my head, to the other ear. I feel where it slightly crushes my hair at the back, where one eyebrow hair is slightly bent. My eyes roll against the press of the pads. My entire world defined by the edges of my blindfold.
Finally the door opens. I hear his quick footsteps cross the room. He takes my hand and draws me to my feet. Just as quickly he leads me back to the bedroom. I am left standing and hear dresser drawers opening and shutting; the closet door opening and hangers jingling. I am aching to ask questions, but this is obviously a test. His hand touches my ankle and lifting my foot I step into the panties he’s holding and he slides them up my legs and over my hips. A bra strap slides over a hand and up my arm, then the other side. He hooks it a bit clumsily in the back. I feel his hand dip down into one bra cup and settle my tit inside and then gently he does the other. The silk of blouse sleeves, buttons, and snaps, the swish of a skirt. I nearly tip over as he picks up one foot to slide on a pump. I want to giggle at the Cinderella symbolism. Throwing a coat over my shoulders he grabs my hand and leads me down the hall to the front door. Suddenly I hang back. We’ve never gone out with me in the blindfold before.

Wait!
I feel him turn to me. Hands cup my face, slide to the back of my head. (“No!” I scream in my mind. “Don’t take it off!”) I am trembling.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
Of course I do.
“The blindfold gives you freedom. It gives you anonymity. You can be whomever you like behind it.”
Yes.
In the car, riding in the passenger seat, blindfolded. The whisper of road noise, the sway of the car in the turns, smell of leather, gasoline. Blindfolded.
He leads me carefully up three steps and through a large doorway. Our footsteps echo as if in a large open space. I smell potted plants. I hear elevator doors open, we enter, they close and we start to rise.
We walk into a room. He takes my coat and leaves me standing. My ears strain to hear what might be around me. Is that whispering or just the wind? Returning, he takes me by the shoulders and guides me forward until I am standing against something hard about hip high, a table by the feel. He turns me around and lifts me onto it. My shoes are removed and I hear them hit the floor. More rustling, he’s taking off his jacket. I reach my hands out and touch his shirt, questioning. When he steps closer I know it’s all right. Kisses, soft kisses, travel over the blindfold.
“Do you trust me?” Then I think I hear another, quieter voice. But I’m not sure. Are there others in this room?
“Do you trust me?”
Yes.
He holds me with my back against his chest, stroking up and down my body. Am I on display? He pulls the blouse free, my skirt slides to the floor. Who might be watching? But my blindfold gives me freedom, my blindfold gives me anonymity, my blindfold keeps me safe. I arch against him, rub my ass against the front of his pants. His hand cups my pussy; fingers reach inside my panties and pinch my clit. Then he reaches both hands around to cup and squeeze my tits, lift them out of my bra, pinch and pull the nipples. I grind against him harder. He lays me on the table and spreads my legs wide, a feast laid out before him. Tongue, lips and teeth play with my pussy, lick suck and bite. I am wild, I am open, I am begging. Fuck me! Then I am filled, cock rock hard and pounding in my cunt deeper and harder than ever. I feel my juice squirt over his cock; I imagine it must almost be running off the table. A moan builds in my chest as I feel the orgasm rushing over me, consuming me.
I am laid bare. I am laid waste. (Do I hear faint applause?)
My blindfold gives me freedom, my blindfold gives me anonymity.
My blindfold keeps me safe.