I wake up this morning in a delightful subspacey daze. I spent the night serving as sleeping furniture for Goddess Selena, after our first “together” day in a while. What is a “together” day for us? No work, no obligations, “Coffee & Clamps!” in the morning, time at home where Goddess Selena keeps me collared and leashed and often at her feet when I’ll not on domestic duties, a late lunch date followed by some whimsical shopping and a movie, generally me doing things for her, and in between talking and laughing about everything in the world.
My subspacey awakening is intensified by the erotically D/s sensations and symbolism of the heavy leather collar locked around my neck, and the prospect of another, if different, “together” day. In those few seconds or minutes it takes to transition into consciousness and alertness, my emotional make-up of the moment brings about a torrent of flashbacks to the last time Goddess Selena let the phoenix of her dominance rise and consume both of us.
After locking leather wrist and ankle cuffs on me, Goddess Selena strapped a blindfold around my head and ordered me on all fours on the bed. She quickly followed up with a long and increasingly stern caning that, about halfway through, had me break into a very light sweat, the unmistakable sign that I had crossed from the real world into subspace. I plunged further into the depths of subspace as she continued with another 30, perhaps 40 strokes from the two canes she was switching between every few dozen strokes. Satisfied with where she had taken me, Goddess Selena admired the colors and patterns of the marks she had etched on me, and ran her hands over my back to feel my quick, shallow breathing, the warmth and humidity of my skin, and the deep quiet moans coming from inside me.
Enjoying what she saw and felt, Goddess Selena wasted no time making changes to my bondage, and before I fully noticed the transition, I was restrained spread-eagle on our bed. Still blindfolded, her verbal teasing and humiliation made me focus on her voice as if I was looking at the sun from deep in a mine shaft. My attention shifted from the song of her dominant siren voice to the intoxicating aroma I rapidly recognized when she placed the panties she had been wearing that day over my nose. I took deep breaths, indulging in the powerful and sweet smell of Goddess Selena’s essence. I drifted ever deeper into subspace as Goddess Selena’s voice, her smell, and the sensations she felt like subjecting me to overwhelmed me.
Images from the rest of our intimate D/s play time flash randomly, without order or sequence. Her nails digging into my nipples. Her lips touching mine so that she can exhale the drag she took from her cigarette. Her nails dragging and catching along the shaft of my semi-erect penis and the soft skin of my scrotum. Her orders to open my mouth when she needs to ash her cigarette. The tip of her lit cigarette brushing against my nipples. Her sitting on my hips, torturing my nipples, and riding my arched body until she reached orgasm. My back curving up as I react to the various exquisite sensations of pains she creates. My wrists and ankles straining against the locked leather cuffs and straps keeping me bound to the bed. The day-old panties still mostly over my nose. The images go back-and-forth as my emotional memories try to keep up.
I am back into the now. Now this morning. Locked heavy leather collar. Leash. Coffee and nipple clamps. Holding an ashtray while at her feet. Lots of affection and kisses. Catching up on house duties. Preparing for the week ahead.
Moments of our lives that slow down time as the memories bubble back to the surface of conscious thought…
