Until recently, I’d never surrendered to a true master, even though I’ve always had a taste for being tied up during sex.

I met Henry through a mutual friend who knew about my predilection for ceding control. He and I clicked right away, and I felt compelled to trust him when he vowed to be patient with me. With Henry as my guide, I committed to learning how to truly submit.

During our scenes, he expected to be addressed as Master or Sir. He was never to be called Henry during our playtime.

Most of our early encounters involved him tying up either my hands or my feet. He didn’t fully bind me to keep me from feeling overwhelmed.

But that changed after we’d grown truly comfortable with each other, and I fully assumed my role as his sub. We’d reached an understanding, which meant it was time for me to completely relinquish control.

Before introducing me to leather cuffs and spreader bars, my master allowed me to get my feet wet using common household items. Rope, cable ties and even bathrobe sashes all made appearances during our play.

But the silk scarves he keeps tucked away in his bedroom to this day are my favorites, probably because that’s what he used the first time he tied my hands and feet to his four-poster bed at the same time. I still remember the sly smile he wore when he lifted the fistful of silky scarves out of the drawer that night.

“Lay on your back in the center of the bed, and spread your arms and legs,” he told me.

“Yes, Sir,” I answered as I scurried to the bed. I hopped onto the mattress and scooted to the center, then I flopped on my back and stretched each of my limbs toward the corners of the bed.

Master walked to the top right corner first. I heard the hiss of silky fabric rubbing against the metal bed frame, then I felt his fingers tap my own. He wound the scarf around my wrist, tying it tight enough to remain secure without the fabric biting into my flesh.

Next, he walked around the bed to secure my other arm. This time, he anchored the scarf with a bit less give than the last, after making certain my arms were comfortably spaced.

Finally, he headed to my feet. First, he circled my ankles with his fingers, pulling me down until the scarves mooring my arms were taut. Then he secured my right leg to one side of the footboard and my left to the other.

I lifted my arms and my legs, testing my restraints. But they held strong, just as I suspected they would.

“Checking my handiwork? I assure you, my knots are second to none,” he teased.

I sought to reassure him, not wanting to offend, and said, “I like to remind myself you’re my master and I’m totally under your control.”

“Is that what you were doing?” he asked. “Well, in that case I approve.”

He knelt on the bed beside me, holding a lit candle as he said: “This is a lotion candle. I’m going to use it to pour warm lotion on your breasts and belly so I can slide my hands over your skin. Does that sound good?”

I nodded eagerly and said, “Yes, Sir.”

He hadn’t even touched me yet, and I already felt moisture building between my thighs. Since I couldn’t close my legs, my damp sex was especially susceptible to the cool air in the room. The temperature seemed to accentuate the steady pulse already pounding in my pussy. I was keenly aware I was tied up and unable to do a thing about it.

“I’d like to blindfold you, but I want you to see the flame dance when I tilt the candle and dribble the lotion all over you.”

The mere suggestion made my breath catch and my pussy clench. I longed to feel his hands massaging my body.

True to his word, my wicked master made sure the flame was within my sight when he poured the molten lotion over my chest. Hot liquid dripped down my tits and onto my belly, warming my skin along the way. I yelped when some dropped directly on my nipple, shocked by the sudden burst of heat.

“Oh, did that sting?”

“Yes, Sir,” I gasped.

“I know just how to fix it,” he said as he laid his thumb on top of my aching nipple and gently massaged the warm lotion into my flesh.

The slippery liquid allowed his hand to slide easily over my breast. He cradled its weight in his palm, squeezing lightly while his thumb continued to stroke my nipple. The sensation was very soothing, and my eyes fluttered closed as I basked in the experience.

Seconds later, my eyes flew open as I felt a familiar sting on my other nipple, and I twisted in my restraints.

I craned my neck and spotted my master near his dresser. When he came back to my side, the candle was gone. He held up his empty hands to show me he held nothing.

“Two hands are better than one for my next task,” he announced.

He placed his palms on my breasts, covering them completely, and using large, sweeping motions he massaged my tits. He spread his fingers and captured my nipples between them. He opened and closed his digits to deliver little pinches of pain. The sharp sensations felt like tiny sparks of electricity that shot down my spine. I squirmed and my back bowed as much as my bonds would allow.

My master responded by pinching me even harder, a counter move that resonated in my clit. If I hadn’t been bound, I would have squeezed my thighs together to savor the feeling, but I couldn’t. My legs merely quivered and twitched as I tugged at the scarves.

“Easy there,” he said as he released my breasts and soothed me with gentle strokes of his fingers. Then he skimmed his hands over my shoulders and up my arms, effectively pinning me to the mattress. He hovered above me and lowered his lips so they brushed mine as he chided, “These restraints are in place for your pleasure and mine. Trust me to make you feel incredible. Now if I get up, will you be a good girl and stop pulling at the scarves?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied.

Happy with my answer, he let go of me and settled himself above me with his legs straddling my hips as he said, “That’s what I like to hear.”

Sitting upright, he rubbed his hands together, warming his palms before resting them on my belly. Although the lotion he’d drizzled on earlier had cooled, the buttery liquid still spread easily over my skin. He used its slickness to skate from my belly to my breasts, gently applying pressure as he swooped around my every curve.

Fighting the urge to arch off the bed, I tugged my lower lip between my teeth. It was true that staying still increased the intensity of my arousal. But it also meant I was desperate for him to show me some mercy and lavish my pussy with attention.

Is it possible for a master to read his sub’s mind? Because mine seemed to do exactly that. He shimmied down my body, not stopping until his mouth rested on my mound.

“Can you keep your hips still?”

I nodded. I had to. That was the moment I’d been waiting for. My body positively ached for my master to eat my pussy.

“Very good.”

His head dipped between my thighs as he immediately set out to test my resolve. Without preamble, he flicked his tongue against my clit softly, making me purr. Those gentle licks slowly stoked my desire, gradually taking it higher and higher as he increased his pressure and speed.

His tongue traveled a maddening path. Just when it seemed I was close to losing it, he’d dive down and dip between my folds to scoop up my juices and keep my climax at bay. Then he’d return to my sensitive clit to torment it anew.

His pattern of tease and denial continued. While I didn’t tug at my bonds, I was a quivering wreck.

Then Master finally rewarded me by pressing the flat of his tongue against my clit. He massaged my sensitive bud sweetly, slowly swirling his tongue over it. His gentle method triggered one of the most intense orgasms of my life. Thrilling waves of pleasure washed over me as he sucked my clit between his lips and hummed a little song. The sound made his lips buzz against me like one of my favorite sex toys, and I moaned in delight.

For a second, I thought I might break my promise not to move my hips. My orgasm was hitting my body hard. It

was becoming increasingly difficult to obey his wishes in the face of such extreme pleasure.

Fortunately, my master saved me from that particular conundrum. He crawled back up my body and nestled his erection between my thighs. He reached between our bodies and directed the tip of his dick to my slit. The anticipation was killing me, but I patiently waited and was amply rewarded as he slid his cock inside me.

“Oh fuck, yes,” he groaned.

My master rested his elbows on either side of me, propping up his body so he could better piston his dick in and out of my pussy. He slammed into me so hard and fast he made my body lurch. Every time he rammed into me and made me jump, I felt the tug of the bonds holding my feet, and the sensation made my pussy gush.

My pussy grew impossibly tight as I was hit by another wave of orgasmic pleasure, and my master followed close behind. He pumped me full of come, then he rolled to the side and absentmindedly stroked my body, leaving me all trussed up until we’d both recovered.

Since that night, we’ve experienced other scenarios that have left me at his mercy. But that first time will always hold a special place in my heart.