I needed something that only he could give me. The quiet part of my brain is sometimes easy to ignore. It whispered to me to make it stop…to ask to be untied even as the pounding part of my brain, the darker side whimpered a need that few people can understand. All around me was charged air. There was feeling of needing to be taken, of needing to feel the pain that he needed to give me.
I knelt there on the bed. I was still….even as parts of me trembled …my core was still for I knew I was right where I needed to be. He was standing by the counter in the apartment. I could smell the alcohol on the cotton balls and I could hear the rubbery gloves slide over his strong hands. I was almost ready for this again. It had been a long time since he needed to do this to me. It has been too long he said. I do not question what it is he needs from me anymore. I am past that. I am past second guessing the pain…I take it and allow it to sooth me as I know it completes him.
Kneeling there I realized I was quite caught up in my own senses…the smells, the sounds…the clench of my own desire that pounded though my body causing my nipples to pucker and my cunt to clench. I didn’t hear him walk back to the bed. My eyes were tracing the pattern on the wall made by an errant painter bored with the white that covered the walls of our apartment. His hand went around my neck and he forced my head up so that my eyes were meeting his. The gloves on his hand felt odd…as if he was detached somehow. I struggled against his grasp allowing that last moment of panic wash over me. Knowing that in a moment I would be on my back tightly tied awaiting the assault of the cold alcohol on my skin.
He squeezed my neck harder and reminded me with his words what he was going to do to me. He stepped back and showed me the tray on the bed beside me. A line of needles decorated the tray. It was a blend of my Richard that was standing in front of me; so caring and his hands had softened…his eyes half reassuring me that all was alright yet the darkness was there. The darkness that would allow him to tie me down and through my pleas…through my whimpers of panic and finally through the calmness of what can only be called pure submission…he would slide the thin needles beneath my skin.
He was deliberate in how he touched me…in how he lifted my wrists and my ankles in the tight cuffs. How his eyes flashed up at me as he tightened them…how the language of his body spoke of total dominance….I was trusting and owned and I was still.
The hard smell of the alcohol hit my nose. I felt the coldness of it on my skin and I turned my head away from him. He told me he was going to go slow, he told me that he knew what I could take and that he would ask no more of me. I felt the needle slide quickly in and then out of my skin….no pain. I breathed deep and felt the hot desire pulse through his fingers scorching my skin. He told me he was proud of me and to get ready for another…and another. I felt the needles collect across my skin…..I knew he covered both my breasts with needles. After the first few I stopped feeling anything except warm. I was warm everywhere as my body struggled to get past the horror of what was happening. I felt surged with desire. I felt dizzy with all that was happening…the cool alcohol on my skin…the pinch as the metal bit into me…..the heat on his fingers.
I realized that although I was tightly restrained I did not struggle. I was still. I was safe there with him. I wanted to offer him all of me….I hoped he would take it. When the first needle touched my cunt I only shivered slightly. I knew struggling would be pointless…by then I did not want to struggle. I wanted to submit. I loved that feeling that was all over me…the feeling of being another’s canvas…of meeting his need through my submission. I don’t question his needs…even when they turn dark. Even when they come in the form of hypodermic needles.