I am standing in the middle of the room, dressed all in black – boots, stockings, knickers bra and a wide open, knee length jacket. A few minutes ago my man blindfolded me and tied my hands behind my back. Not being sure what is in front or wanting to trip and hurt myself, I just stand, blinded by the dark.
Blinded by the dark
But I am getting ahead of myself. The above happened a few years ago and blindfolds often are a part of our date-night. Even though I am not totally a fan, they do make kinky sex – kinkier – and let’s remember they were being used by me, and probably you, way before Fifty Shades had a life of it’s own. In fact I was only seventeen when I was first blindfolded and tied.
Blindfolded at seventeen
My boyfriend and I were new to sex and in his mind we should try everything. Looking back I was lucky to have a confident first lover who was also an opportunist. I was happy to go along with Jim’s games although sexual tension between us was not high. Most of our activities were hurried and fitted in hastily before parents came home. But at least we tried.
I think the blindfolding incident occurred in my house and was accompanied by the
lets see how many times we can orgasm in a two hour period theme.
I was naked, laid flat out on the bed, hands tied to the headboard and a scarf around my eyes. Jim was a steady kind of lad – adventurous yet not full of surprises. So, even though all around was dark I was still not convinced he had the power. It felt like we were playing a game. Which kind of defeated the purpose of submission. That chemical sexual spark was missing between us.
Anticipation
The second time I was blindfolded was over twenty years ago when I had first met my man. We fancied each other like crazy. So on my part I loved to anticipate what was going to happen next when we played sex games. Anticipation has a similar effect to foreplay, because the mind is one of the greatest erogenous zones.
Right from the start he expressed an interest in tying me up. But somehow, even though we spent about 6 months ‘dating’, it didn’t happen. Then we drifted apart. I was going to be moving away so we spent one more night together. Almost as if he thought this was his last chance, he took off my stockings, tied my hands behind my back with one and blindfolded me with the other. I do like a man who makes use of personal effects.
This was a whole different ballgame to what I experienced with Jim. I didn’t know the full measure of this guy so was unsure what to expect, and I had wanted this as much as I wanted him. My pulse quickened as I sat on the side of his bed. He began licking my cunt. He had done this quite a few times so I felt a false sense of security. Just as I was starting to settle into it he rolled me over, held me in place, and gave me a hard spanking. I don’t think anything else happened. We were a little drunk and tired and both fell asleep.
Disorientated
When I awoke I was still tied, blindfolded and disorientated. I called out and he immediately removed both the stockings. Looking around I was surprised where I had ended up on the bed. Completely upside down. We laughed, cuddled up and slept. I got up while he was still sleeping. Grabbed my things and purposely left one stocking behind. A gift for him or perhaps an excuse to return? But I didn’t see him again for fifteen years. And over that time I never forgot how it felt to give up my sight to please a lover.
Indoors and Outside
Now we live together permanently and he has blindfolded me on many occasions. Indoors and outside.
When it comes to writing the scene I find it harder to retell the activities if I haven’t witnessed it visually. This is one of the reasons I often request not to be blindfolded for a whole session.
But one night a few years ago he told me he was going to keep my eyes covered the whole time. I was nervous about this. Knowing that without my sight I would experience loss of control. And even though I love to submit in the bedroom I take comfort in being able to see or use my hands. He took both away.
Hands tied.
Eyes covered.
True Life Erotica ~ Senses on Overdrive
He’s left me standing in the middle of the room, dressed all in black – boots, stockings, knickers bra and a wide open, knee length jacket. A few minutes ago he blindfolded me and tied my hands behind my back. Not being sure what is in front or wanting to trip and hurt myself, I just stand. I have been blinded by the dark.
It is probably only a matter of minutes but feels longer. Then I sense his presence in front of me. He hasn’t touched me but it is almost like his shadow or body heat is grazing my skin. I am becoming hyper sensitive.
Gently he strokes between my cleavage with soft fingertips and I try to relax. Then something different, something textile, strokes at my face. I hate things touching my face and flinch. What is it? It’s not his hand. The material lightly smacks my cheek. First one then the other. From the smell and texture on my skin I think it must be leather. His glove perhaps? My breathing quickens and becomes shallow. Already I’m a little dizzy. Worried I may lose my balance I express this concern.
He takes this onboard, moves me over to sit on the sofa and then pulls my face into his torso. The chest hair tickles my skin and I can small his scent. This makes me calmer. Even more so now as he pushes me back, thighs apart while he licks my naked slit. Running his tongue up and down. Familiarity helps but he soon moves on. His belt lightly whips the sensitive skin between my legs. I know so well how this feels. I take a deep breath as he increases the force and I yelp just a little.
Finally he unties my hands. Great. A little control back for me.
“Turn round. Kneel with your hands on the back of the sofa and keep them there.”
In this new position my bum is right in front of him. Thwack. His hand cracks down on my arse cheek. My holes contract as he repeats. I try and stifle my cries in case they encourage him to spank harder.
Now his knob is nuzzling against the entrance to my cunt. The warm sensation of cock against sensitive skin is stronger than ever. Not only have I just been shaved, I am also wholly relying on feelings. Jolting his hips forward in one movement he fills me and fucks me hard. Short sharp jabs. He puts his hands around my neck and exerts just a little bit of pressure to remind me he’s in charge. I never doubted it…
Being blinded by the dark apparently does me good!
This session finished with him coming on my face. His favourite finale. The blindfold had remained in place throughout, creating a lot of nervous energy. My heart had beaten faster than normal. My mind had been working overtime, trying to analyze what was going on and my breathing sped up. When we had finished I was exhausted. It felt like I had participated in an aerobic training session!
Being a little bit of a control freak on a day to day basis, I do need that taken away from me at times. Also it makes me appreciate how lucky I am to be able to look into his eyes while I’m sucking cock. 😉
Catch up with part one – Clive and part two – home
Part three of my series For the Sins of Red – Younger Days
Finally I fell into a deep sleep until a noise – shrill and intrusive – abruptly pulled me back to reality.
I took a moment to assess what was my life. It seemed vastly different from two weeks ago. I thought the harsh noise was maybe some kind of alarm, probably triggered by a car out side.
Pushing my head into the pillow I willed it to stop. But no. Eventually, I couldn’t lay there any longer. I got up, looked out of my bedroom window and saw a different surveillance vehicle had now taken the place of Wilkins and Collins. In the dim light from the street lamps I vaguely caught the outline of a woman in the passenger seat, reading. Looked like a kindle. How could she concentrate with this infernal ringing? Then I realised the racket was actually coming from the other room.
Pulling a baggy jumper over my pajamas I marched out to the kitchen and wasn’t surprised when I saw my sister, Marie, cloth in hand, waving at the smoke alarm. Burnt toast waiting to be removed from the toaster.
She looked at me, then glanced back at the task in hand. Finally the noise halted and we sat down at the kitchen table.
“What are you doing? It’s the middle of the night.” I exclaimed.
“Well, it’s actually 5am. I have a schedule you know. Breakfast at five, shower at half past. Then at my desk – I mean your desk – by 6. It’s not easy following your grades.” Marie ended by scowling at me.
“Right.” I didn’t know what else to say. My sister was a routine freak. Product of my mother. “I have to be at the police station at 9.30.”
“Let me make you a coffee.” It was clear she suddenly felt sorry for me.
We sipped our drinks in silence until she finally succumbed to curiosity.
“Rosie.” She whined in a sickly sweet tone. “When you moved in with him, was he -Clive I mean- well, a perv? Back then. I’ve read the newspapers.”
She seemed genuinely interested and I thought it may help me to get events straight in my head for the police, so once again I looked back nine years and launched into a monologue of my younger days with Clive, the notorious serial killer, while Marie sat opposite listening, totally absorbed.
At first Clive was a gentle guy. He treated me well. With respect. Shortly after I moved in and started work at Weatherspoons he got a job in the library, of all places. I laughed when he told me as it was the same one where he’d been rescued as a baby. Working with books suited him down to the ground and the council soon had him training part-time as a librarian.
To many we must have seemed an odd couple. Me, the gregarious barmaid and Clive the quiet, book worm. We didn’t often socialise with friends as a couple. Clive didn’t have any. Not one. And mine were simply too outgoing for him. I would have a Friday night out after work with my mates and that was it. The rest of the evenings Clive and I would cook, watch movies or read – together.
It was at this point that Marie said, “Sex. What about the sex?”
That was certainly something I had pondered over. But back then Clive was my first relationship. I didn’t know what was acceptable. What was usual for couples. The fact was, we rarely had sex. When we did Clive would make a big thing of us both showering and putting on a clean duvet cover after. Like he was ashamed of our pleasure.
When he climaxed he was almost apologetic. That was odd, and he also didn’t like it when I was noisy, you know, during sex. In fact he would sometimes cover my face with a hand trying to quieten me. Once he shoved my panties in my mouth and then turned me on my front and fucked my arse. We were drunk. Which was a good job as I was relaxed so it didn’t hurt too much. Now I am older and wiser I know a lot of people include many kinds of kinky acts in their lives. But adding all the other stuff up I probably should have realised his behaviour was unhinged.
Going back to the night he buggered me, I’d assumed it was just the alcohol, and put it to the back of my mind.
The next day he couldn’t do enough to please me. Ran me a bubble bath. Made dinner. Trying to make up. Although, we didn’t mention what had happened at all. But, in general I’d say we were close. We talked about so many different things. His past and how he wondered who his real parents were. And mum. Neither of us was keen on her. He went round to pick some of my stuff up after I’d moved out. She was verbally very rude to him. At the time he didn’t deserve that. Getting whipped by her sharp tongue.
Things muddled along okay, mostly, for about a year. Then I got promoted and started shadowing a proper area manager. On occasions I’d have to stay in a hotel on the other side of town. Clive didn’t like that. We had loads of arguments about my job. When I returned from working away he’d have a bath ready for me. And then come and sit and watch intently while I bathed. I’m sure he was examining my body in case there were signs I had been with someone else. A couple of times I caught him loading the washing machine and checking my knickers.
This all happened slowly. So his obsessions seemed to creep up on me. It didn’t really hit me what had been going on until, well, until the week before I left.
I wasn’t planning on leaving him but one evening my boss, Jack, dropped me home after a meeting. We sat in the car for five minutes chatting and laughing about something from earlie. I said goodbye and ran up the path to the front door. I saw Clive looking out the window. When I walked in he slammed the door, grabbed me and pushed me against it. Before I knew what was happening he landed a crack across the left side of my face. So hard I fell to the floor. Shouting obscenities. Accusing me of whoring with the boss.
I suppose that’s the moment I realised that our relationship was toxic. And I had to work out how to get away from him.
Marie was looking shocked. Eyes and mouth wide open. So I stopped. Enough of my younger days. Back to the present and I needed to get ready for when the police came to collect me. So, I gave her a hug. As if she was the one who needed comforting. Funny really. And I asked her to make sure there was some food in for tea.
Header image use for Younger Days Part Three is from Unsplash
