Anticipating the Moment

Darkness.

Silence.

Sensory deprivation, I think it's called. It does interesting things to your mind. And body, at least in my case.

Expectation and Anticipation. At some point, I know you will touch me. When, where, how, I cannot say. I stand bound, with enough slack to prevent injury. I am blinded though the room is dark. Even my ears have been closed, that I might not hear your soft footfall to warn me of your approach. Naked, I can do nothing but wait for you, thinking of nothing but that first touch. Imagine a sudden smack on my ass, or even more intense, the softest brush against my nipple. How is it, how can it be, that often the most featherlight touch can slam into my body harder than the ruler you so love to spank me with?

My head is filled with every sensation you've ever given me. Lacking actual external stimulation, I recall every touch, every smack, every whipping you've bestowed on this vessel. Empty vessel waiting to be filled. My knees so weak, my pussy so wet, my nipples aching, waiting. Are you in the room? Are you sitting quietly, watching my need, reveling in the discomfort you've brought me? Are you out, watching TV, unknowing of my need, careless of my wants, knowing I will be there when you need a vessel to accept your cock?

And still I wait, tortured by my own thoughts and desires and needing your pleasure to release me.