Tio's Confession

Her voice sounded clear as a bell, dispersing the clouded fog of my thoughts, bringing both clarity and order where there had previously been chaos.
Listening with the ghost of a smile upon my lips, corners of my mouth edging upward and letting the sound of her commanding tones become the centre of my world.
That first instant, it wasn’t so much what she was saying. It was that she was speaking at all. And more, that she was speaking to me. That rare moment of privilege.
Sensation of scattered thoughts coalescing, becoming one in their focus upon her words.
Into my private darkness I stared, the confining warmth of the blindfold stealing vision away, stirring the other senses to greater heights, commanding them to strain outward in an attempt to discern her movements, her nearness.
She’d spoken my name, as She had so many times, and yet again it made my heart leap, pulse rate suddenly increased and setting my system into overdrive.
The silence falling again, settling like a blanket over me. The sound of my breathing rhythmic and slightly rushed, it was the only sound, I struggled to hear beyond it in vain.
Then, there suddenly ahead of me, to my right. Once, twice, three times… the click of her heels on the floor and my form tensed, quivered in excitement. Reacting instinctively, pulling against the restraints she so skilfully bound me within.
My fettered form squirmed again as that silence once more stretched like an eternity, the sound of my breathing combining with the rush of blood in my ears. My own symphony, the sound of my body playing her tune.
Her heels clicked again, closer this time and I shifted. The sound of steel links clinking together as they held me in their unforgiving grip. She was close now, I could sense her.. the scent of her perfume. THAT perfume, and I groaned headily, that roiling heat spreading from my groin into my thighs and pit of my stomach. Seeming to remind me suddenly of my hardness, of my lust, of my need.
The touch of her nail, a single finger  at the very tip of my manhood and it jerked heavily. Swollen balls beneath pulsed and seemed to scream silently at me for release.
As that nail touched , oh so very briefly, so she spoke again. Simple words, meaning so much, saying all She needed to. Four little words that told me the session was over.
Unable to help myself I jerked and groaned with longing, unable to see the evidence of her handiwork, but I felt sure the swollen member between my thighs wept its dire frustration.
The echo of her words resounding through my mind and I heard myself beg, heard myself plead with Her. Some deeper stronger part of my mind wanted to stop, to keep my silence, yet it too was close to breaking, and so the moment of hopeless whimpering continued.
She repeated her words, exactly the same. Yet her tone stronger, firmer, leaving no room for doubt.
My throat clicked and I swallowed a sob, then sounded my thanks to her. Knowing better than to withhold that. Though it added only to the sense of helplessness, for once I’d said as much, so I felt the kiss of cold steel against the burgeoning head of my manhood.
The press, the push, the enclosing sheath working its way over still swollen flesh that only reluctantly softened sufficiently to allow it to become encased once more.
Then I waited, paused and tensed, knowing it was coming. Knowing it had to.
The single noise, the removal of hope, the full stop.
The click of the tiny padlock locking shut and shoulders I hadn’t realized were still tensed finally slumped.  Even behind the black veil of the blindfold I squeezed my eyes shut and felt my system adapt to the new depth of desire that consumed me in her name.
Worse than yesterday.
Better than tomorrow.
Day by day held to her will alone.