In His Chains
In the night, I cried out.
My soul cried out silently, through my longing. It cried and whispered prayers, into the void.
And he heard me. And he answered. And he came.
He appeared from the shadows. A man of unearthly beauty. Somehow I knew that he had taken this form for me. Yet he was more real than anything in the mundane world.
He said that he wanted me. That I would be his, forever. In a place beyond time. Beyond pain and death. Locked forever in his dark embrace.
And I said Yes.
And so he took me.
Now I am his princess. His queen. His plaything. His slave. I am his completely. And he is mine. Of all the world, he loves and adores only me. And only I can sate his dark desires.
In the realm of shadows, we hold our court. And we play. Oh, the games we play. Games that last for centuries.
In chains, he teases my body with a feather. I scream, as the feeling becomes more intense with each stroke. Here there is no limit to my sensitivity. I cannot escape this most exquisite torture. In a world without time, without sleep, there is no clock to measure the duration of my writhing torment. It seems endless....
Then I am tightly wrapped in a cocoon, completely unable to move, except for my feet -- the only part of my body outside the bondage. He tickles my bare feet with an endless array of tools and techniques, each more unbearable than the last. He makes my feet so ticklish that I can feel each tendril of the feather as it teases every inch of my naked soles. He loves my feet. He must spend years down there, with me trapped in the cocoon, my feet and toes wriggling madly, shrieking and pleading for mercy that never comes.
Now I am floating in a sea of feathers, tickling every inch of my naked body, except my sex. He reserves this spot for himself, slowly teasing me there with a long black feather. I can't stand it. The tickling is so overwhelming. And he always knows when to stop, to deny me the release I so desperately crave. Once a month perhaps, he allows me to cum, and I feel as though I am dying from the pleasure each time. And after each orgasm, my body becomes even more ticklish to the feathers rubbing every inch of it. Will it ever end? I'm not sure I want it to...
Endless....
In the night, I cried out.
My soul cried out silently, through my longing. It cried and whispered prayers, into the void.
And he heard me. And he answered. And he came.
He appeared from the shadows. A man of unearthly beauty. Somehow I knew that he had taken this form for me. Yet he was more real than anything in the mundane world.
He said that he wanted me. That I would be his, forever. In a place beyond time. Beyond pain and death. Locked forever in his dark embrace.
And I said Yes.
And so he took me.
Now I am his princess. His queen. His plaything. His slave. I am his completely. And he is mine. Of all the world, he loves and adores only me. And only I can sate his dark desires.
In the realm of shadows, we hold our court. And we play. Oh, the games we play. Games that last for centuries.
In chains, he teases my body with a feather. I scream, as the feeling becomes more intense with each stroke. Here there is no limit to my sensitivity. I cannot escape this most exquisite torture. In a world without time, without sleep, there is no clock to measure the duration of my writhing torment. It seems endless....
Then I am tightly wrapped in a cocoon, completely unable to move, except for my feet -- the only part of my body outside the bondage. He tickles my bare feet with an endless array of tools and techniques, each more unbearable than the last. He makes my feet so ticklish that I can feel each tendril of the feather as it teases every inch of my naked soles. He loves my feet. He must spend years down there, with me trapped in the cocoon, my feet and toes wriggling madly, shrieking and pleading for mercy that never comes.
Now I am floating in a sea of feathers, tickling every inch of my naked body, except my sex. He reserves this spot for himself, slowly teasing me there with a long black feather. I can't stand it. The tickling is so overwhelming. And he always knows when to stop, to deny me the release I so desperately crave. Once a month perhaps, he allows me to cum, and I feel as though I am dying from the pleasure each time. And after each orgasm, my body becomes even more ticklish to the feathers rubbing every inch of it. Will it ever end? I'm not sure I want it to...
Endless....
