Pure Emotion

PURE EMOTION

Circumstances frequently conspire to change our plans. Some fight this tendency of nature. I revel in it - perhaps because I hate to plan in the first place. My plan was to leave for home Sunday evening. I knew I would have been out of town for an entire week and felt that I really should be back at the office on Monday. However, it rained on Sunday, the forecasters were predicting snow in the western suburbs, and I was pretty beat. Carly asked if I could stay the night and leave Monday instead - she had Monday off. All of the above seemed like really good reasons to stay the extra day. So I did. (Those puny excuses had nothing to do with it - I was just having a good time.)

We had a really enjoyable afternoon and evening swapping stories with her roommate and analyzing the previous weeks activities over Chinese ordered in.

Sunday night's scene started much the same as many others had. I was lounging on the couch reading the latest Buffy magazine, recapping more of the weeks events with Carly and listening to music. Candles lit the room. Carly, as usual selected tunes, freshened drinks and kept me in a nearly continual state of erection with her hands and mouth. During one of these oral moments Carly was particularly enthusiastic in her efforts to swallow my penis, so I decided to help her by gently shoving her head deeper onto my organ. As she came gasping up for air I reached for some rope and started to pull her hands behind her back. Surprisingly she said "no rope". I of course ignored her request and even more aggressively wrapped rope around her upper elbows, pulled them together and bound them. I then tied a rope to each wrist and pulled them upward, leaving some slack for her to maneuver them. These activities triggered the start of one of the most emotionally powerful scenes I have ever witnessed. I won't attempt to convey what was actually going on in Carly's mind. I'll leave that for her to describe should she choose to share it. I only express my observations and fantasies as this incredibly rare event unfolded before me.

Properly bound, I now forced her to continue her oral servicing of my organ. This continued for some time, as I watched Carly slip deeper and deeper into her submissive state. At one point she asked me to light a cigarette for her. I refused - pointing out that she could do it herself by using a candle. As she finished her cigarette, she knelt before me, ankles crossed and again approached my fully erect cock with her mouth. Down again she went. She retreated. Down again. As the process repeated itself you could see the emotion within her build. In my mind I could imagine a slave girl performing against her will. She approached again. A small taste. A long hesitation - then down again - very timid this time. She approached again and hovered just above my cock for the longest time. Tears started to build in the corners of her eyes. Had this been a normal scene I would have grabbed her hair and shoved her head onto my awaiting organ - chastising her for her lack of enthusiasm. I would have used words appropriate for the scene. But this was no longer a scene. This was real! I said nothing. I did nothing. I only watched.

She kissed the head again - and retreated, then brought her mouth down - slowly - unable to complete her task. She raised herself erect while still kneeling in front of me. She took a breath. She took time. She steeled herself. I could envision a myriad of fantasies - the powerful woman blackmailed into submission, the captured girl trying to save her boyfriend, the girl betrayed by her lover. But what was really going on? I would never ask.

Her body was still erect, kneeling, ankles crossed, arms bound behind her back. She bent at the waist and again lowered herself - approaching my cock with her mouth ready to perform its task. She nearly touched it but when within a breath of the target jerked her head back . She hesitated and approached again, stopping further away this time. One final try and she broke. Tears flowed from her eyes and she sobbed gently. She couldn't complete her task. She righted herself and cried. She cried for a long time - eventually rocking back to sit on her ankles. In the background, melancholy lyrics from Cher continued to drift over the room as they had for some time now.

It is impossible to describe the journey that Carly was on, and even harder to describe my sensory perception of it other that to say that I began to observe a gradual transformation. Starting with deep depression and sorrow, Carly appeared to move though a spectrum of emotional states. Confusion, disappointment, sorrow, anger. She lit another cigarette. She cried some more. At some point she took the CD remote and moved back and forth through the album, selecting songs which touched her in some way.

And then an amazing thing started to happen. I could see her moods shift in more and more positive directions. They were less dark, still conflicted but moving more toward resolution. Still bound, she started to move to the music and softly sing. Her mood was no longer dark. It was now resolute, courageous. Just before coming out she smiled. She dropped the ropes that she could have shed at any time during the previous hour, came over and gave me a giant hug.

Many times I had considered ending the encounter and attempting to offer some comfort. But I refrained. I had read about this, and had even heard it described by other submissives. A total emotional release and catharsis. Although most fetish activities are related to the fulfillment of sexual fantasy, by their very nature they involve both physical and emotional risk. I had never witnessed this before, and I can assure you - fantasy events pale in the shadow of a real life encounter.

Circumstances frequently conspire to change our plans. Some fight this tendency of nature. I revel in it - perhaps because I hate to plan in the first place. My plan was to leave for home Sunday evening. I knew I would have been out of town for an entire week and felt that I really should be back at the office on Monday. However, it rained on Sunday, the forecasters were predicting snow in the western suburbs, and I was pretty beat. Carly asked if I could stay the night and leave Monday instead - she had Monday off. All of the above seemed like really good reasons to stay the extra day. So I did. (Those puny excuses had nothing to do with it - I was just having a good time.)
We had a really enjoyable afternoon and evening swapping stories with her roommate and analyzing the previous weeks activities over Chinese ordered in.
Sunday night's scene started much the same as many others had. I was lounging on the couch reading the latest Buffy magazine, recapping more of the weeks events with Carly and listening to music. Candles lit the room. Carly, as usual selected tunes, freshened drinks and kept me in a nearly continual state of erection with her hands and mouth. During one of these oral moments Carly was particularly enthusiastic in her efforts to swallow my penis, so I decided to help her by gently shoving her head deeper onto my organ. As she came gasping up for air I reached for some rope and started to pull her hands behind her back. Surprisingly she said "no rope". I of course ignored her request and even more aggressively wrapped rope around her upper elbows, pulled them together and bound them. I then tied a rope to each wrist and pulled them upward, leaving some slack for her to maneuver them. These activities triggered the start of one of the most emotionally powerful scenes I have ever witnessed. I won't attempt to convey what was actually going on in Carly's mind. I'll leave that for her to describe should she choose to share it. I only express my observations and fantasies as this incredibly rare event unfolded before me.
Properly bound, I now forced her to continue her oral servicing of my organ. This continued for some time, as I watched Carly slip deeper and deeper into her submissive state. At one point she asked me to light a cigarette for her. I refused - pointing out that she could do it herself by using a candle. As she finished her cigarette, she knelt before me, ankles crossed and again approached my fully erect cock with her mouth. Down again she went. She retreated. Down again. As the process repeated itself you could see the emotion within her build. In my mind I could imagine a slave girl performing against her will. She approached again. A small taste. A long hesitation - then down again - very timid this time. She approached again and hovered just above my cock for the longest time. Tears started to build in the corners of her eyes. Had this been a normal scene I would have grabbed her hair and shoved her head onto my awaiting organ - chastising her for her lack of enthusiasm. I would have used words appropriate for the scene. But this was no longer a scene. This was real! I said nothing. I did nothing. I only watched.
She kissed the head again - and retreated, then brought her mouth down - slowly - unable to complete her task. She raised herself erect while still kneeling in front of me. She took a breath. She took time. She steeled herself. I could envision a myriad of fantasies - the powerful woman blackmailed into submission, the captured girl trying to save her boyfriend, the girl betrayed by her lover. But what was really going on? I would never ask.
Her body was still erect, kneeling, ankles crossed, arms bound behind her back. She bent at the waist and again lowered herself - approaching my cock with her mouth ready to perform its task. She nearly touched it but when within a breath of the target jerked her head back . She hesitated and approached again, stopping further away this time. One final try and she broke. Tears flowed from her eyes and she sobbed gently. She couldn't complete her task. She righted herself and cried. She cried for a long time - eventually rocking back to sit on her ankles. In the background, melancholy lyrics from Cher continued to drift over the room as they had for some time now.
It is impossible to describe the journey that Carly was on, and even harder to describe my sensory perception of it other that to say that I began to observe a gradual transformation. Starting with deep depression and sorrow, Carly appeared to move though a spectrum of emotional states. Confusion, disappointment, sorrow, anger. She lit another cigarette. She cried some more. At some point she took the CD remote and moved back and forth through the album, selecting songs which touched her in some way.
And then an amazing thing started to happen. I could see her moods shift in more and more positive directions. They were less dark, still conflicted but moving more toward resolution. Still bound, she started to move to the music and softly sing. Her mood was no longer dark. It was now resolute, courageous. Just before coming out she smiled. She dropped the ropes that she could have shed at any time during the previous hour, came over and gave me a giant hug.
Many times I had considered ending the encounter and attempting to offer some comfort. But I refrained. I had read about this, and had even heard it described by other submissives. A total emotional release and catharsis. Although most fetish activities are related to the fulfillment of sexual fantasy, by their very nature they involve both physical and emotional risk. I had never witnessed this before, and I can assure you - fantasy events pale in the shadow of a real life encounter.