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If the diary apparently outlines a daydream, then you have to experience the feelings again to master your back. Facets of a night like dark blue velvet, the night sky appears to me today. Countless small gemstone splinters sparkle on it and in the middle of a milky circle, the cold light of the full moon shines. In a playful way, a wind breath keeps swinging the curtains of the open balcony door, conquering the room and tenderly nestles around my skin. How I enjoy this feeling.
The silence of the night whispers dreams to me that spread over my body in cozy showers. Slightness captures me, my breaths become deeper. Relaxation weighs me to safety and takes the severity of everyday life. *This night is so beautiful. *I win in the Tie up, The my arms and Legs spread. Cool night air licks over my breasts, my stomach, my thighs, my calves. I thank her with quiet sigh for this treat.
Glide fingertips over me, draw the path of the wind. Your warmth mixes with the cool touch. My pelvis will arise, but the fingertips are no longer there. I want to grab them, get them back, but the captivates of my hands mock with a quiet clink of my effort. I want to speak, but the gag in my mouth only lets sigh. I close my eyes back. My will is not in demand. I am only the instrument that is available for playing.
*This night has just started. *Shadowy from the corners of the eye I can see him. He stands by the window and looks into the night sky. I turn my head and look forward to being able to look at him in peace. Although he is so familiar to me, even though I have already touched every inch of his skin, my eyes go on a sensual journey of discovery. His sight stirs up the fire of my desire. I see his arms, his hands and my body remembers what they can do.
His relaxed attitude cannot hide the strength he can raise. His vulnerable nudity stands in the exact contrast to his relentless hardness, which I hardly dare to think. He is in the moonlight there pride and upright. *That night belongs to him. *He chose me to serve him. He allowed me to belong to him. I breathe louder because I get lust waves over. Even if he doesn’t turn around, I know that he smiles.
He knows me and looks deeper into my soul when I have ever done it myself. Without haste he leaves me the agony that I do to myself by forming thoughts full of lust and pain. Unfulfilled dreams, secret wishes and experiences experienced combats together to get new ideas. Without being able to provide myself with relief without being allowed to touch or speak, I am my world of thought delivered. Helplessly bound and yet kept safe.
*That night takes me caught. *Slowly betray the minutes, melt in the sea of time. He’s so far away from me and I long for his closeness, his care. I would like to be touched by him, used, loved, held, beaten, caressed, caressed, petted. The longer I lie here, the greater my desire, my willingness to submit. A tortured moan comes over my lips dull. Why doesn’t he pay attention to me? I look at him, want to move him with my eyes to turn around, to pay my attention.
My lust burns her glowing path through my body to trigger new heat waves. I only close my eyes for a short time, but when I open them again, the place at the window is empty. *This night is excruciating. *I search for the head, the soft carpet dampens its steps and so it is already close to me until I notice it. I try to ignore the palpitations that rage in me like a drum fire.
He leans to me and breathes his warm breath on my bare chest. I trimmed myself by the intensity of this plot and have been grown through the gag. My eyes begging him, he may free me, but he doesn’t replace my gaze. As if I didn’t exist. As if my body and my reaction are everything that interests him. My hands bale to fists. I want to shout out my will and know at the same moment that it is not about my will.
I sink back onto the bed. *This night is educational. *His hand lies on my stomach. Completely calm and motionless. So close and yet so incredibly far away from the fireplaces that torture me. I try in vain to bring my breasts closer to him and he does not move down a centimeter. What did he do with me that I behave so much? What did he do with me in these hours, days, years, that I burn so much? I consume myself for the pleasure that he can give me.
I melt in the thought of the possibilities that are available to him. The blood rushes the blood in my ears. All of this only because his hand is on my skin? I am so firm in his violence that I am really ready to everything? Where is my pride when I crawl in front of him and seem to have forgotten every shame?*This night is full of questions. *I try to get enough air with bloated nostrils and then exhaust them equally strained through the gag.
I wish to be able to scream. To distract me from the short glowing pain and the subsequent heat that add me to the wax drops. He makes sure that I can watch when the drops fall. I see the wax flows over the edge of the candle, it seems to remain a fraction of a second as if it wanted to promote itself and my courage to take the jump. Then it falls and my next cry is unheard of in my head.
Where I have just stumbled that he may have his hand hiked higher, I am now trying to think that he could move on the wax lane. As I just had to think of his smile tenderly, I don’t want to see it now. But why doesn’t my body follow my thoughts? Why does he cheat me with his reactions? Why do my thighs open up and begging with every waxener drops? Why do I want to be taken from him? Tied up? Defenseless? What am I? *This night is rich in tears.
*He holds my hand almost tenderly after the last drop has fallen. His fingers entangle themselves with mine and keep them tightened. I calm down very slowly, let myself be captured by his words and gently bring back. But he doesn’t let the fire go out in me. The quieter I make, the more denser it brings his lips to my ear, the more seductive his index finger in my palm, the more clear his language becomes, the darker his voice becomes.
He leaves no doubt that at least he knows exactly what I am. Again there is no escaping, no ashamed away, no hiding place. Only the gentleness of the moonlights insulates the mercilessness of his words. His finger now circles around my nipple and releases me from the flood of thoughts. I leave my feelings with this touch, bend through until it hurts and moan my agony into the silence of the night.
*This night is filled with soul pain. *The cool silver of the brackets on mine Nipple is deceptive over the glowing currents that trigger them and flow into my footpaths. Hot. Hotter than wax, hotter than circular fingers. I have the feeling that my breasts are on fire. Fine chains lead away from the brackets and end in almost petite hooks. Take them away, beg my eyes. Take me first, beg my lap. Driven by pain and lust, I use any freedom of movement that my bonds offer me.
As if it were too much for him, he pushes his hand under my neck and lets me feel that he determines when I can move. I lie silent and panting. He lifts my head gently and clearly and hooks the delicate chain ends in the ring of my collar. The chain length is so precise that the train is hardly noticeable. He takes his hand away and my head falls back into the pillow. At the same moment I lift him again and try to relieve the tense chains again.
Apparently disinterested he plays with my navel. *That night is an examination. *I have long since stopped fighting against it. Without his support, I have no chance. I ever had one? I breathe out hissing and try the Pains add. His index finger tenderly follows a tear that pulls her track over my cheek. He continues over my neck and strokes the band, which, like so much, reminds me of my position.
He lovingly knocks on the tight chains and sends me to the next pleasure wave. No longer. I can not anymore. I can no longer certainly. But he knows me better. Much better. Without haste he grabs my legs and puts his finger on my column. I yelled dull. Of pain? Before desire? pain? What pain? Millimeterian he introduces his finger into me. I try in vain to keep my body under control.
Not to move. Halfway I hear him tenderly asking if I want him to stop. My horrified groaning is not enough for him as an answer. Just as little as my pleading looks. I close my eyes and tear them up again when he pulls his finger back. Violent shaking head on my part, hot waves conjure up through my breasts and at the same time his finger conquers my wet cave. I will explode. Certainly. *That night burns me. *Cool air.
Cool air strokes my nipples soothingly. The brackets are just memory. How I would have loved to put my gratitude when he freed me from it. I no longer find the bonds as a restriction. But I regret that they prevent me from showing him my humility. I have learned. He gives me the pain and pleasure. He leads me through hell and heaven. He drops me and catches me up.
He tortures and caress me. He takes and gives. I am delivered and fallen for him. He punishes and reward me. He knows my heart and soul. I sob open when the force of knowledge hits me. I am his. He has taken his place at the window again. The moon can no longer be seen. I feel the reactions my body on the night. Listen to me and see how great my willingness is to follow him.
Feelings of happiness flow through me, combine with the pain into new waves of pleasure. I rear up. He turns around. *This night is not over yet. *He leans over me, looks into my eyes. This look, these eyes. I feel my heart drums. His hand drives over my cheek, checks the seat of the gag. I answer his silent question about my condition with a nod. He smiles and hits my cheek right and left.
I react violently. Although the pain is not bad, this humiliation sends me to a wave ride of feelings. I’m a nothing, I belong to him. Why can’t I crawl deeper into the blankets, why don’t make me very small? I can’t even roll up through the bonds. Only my mind can bow now. *This night is humiliating. *After two blows, throw my head around. Panting, I feel the bonds as what they are.
While I am still thinking of my burning cheeks, he frees my legs from the cuffs that spread them. As if I were a doll of fabric, he kneels between my thighs, lays my legs over his shoulders, supports the poor on the right and left of me, prevents himself and penetrates me. Whine with lust and groan with pain (or it is the other way around?) I perceive his movements in me. The attitude he decided for me hardly gives me scope.
He determines he acts. I receive what he wants to give me. He finds his rhythm and I have been growing louder and louder. Delighted by the arm cuffs and holding down by its weight, I only feel what happens in my body. Feel my heat, my moisture. Feel his movements, feel how he fills me and uses me. He pauses deep in me, grabs my back of my head and loosens the gag. When he pulls it out of my mouth, he encounters with a violent movement.
I scream freed the pain and the desire of that night. *This night is uninhibited. *Strong and evenly he brings me to the cliff and without stopping I fall into the infinity of redemption. Wells around shaft lets me twitch under it, open my hands and close, moaning, I enjoy the freedom of my mouth. He let my legs slide to the side and got up. I see him. My gentleman rises above me and orders me to stretch my legs up to him.
He puts mine Feet to his excited limb and make it clear to me with another flexion of fingers what he is expecting. I gently rub my feet along him, let my toes play and massage his stiff shaft. When he his orgasm gets, he gets closer and discharges on my face and my breasts. Shouldn’t I feel humiliated now? I listen to myself, but I just feel warm happiness that flows through me.
Warmth and love that I feel for him. I try to take his gift with my tongue with a smile. He sits next to me, frees my arms, reaches into my hair and pulls me to his chest. Thanks, he whispers softly. *That night is complete. *.
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