Master is very cre­at­ive when it comes to build­ing devices meant for restrain­ing.  Whenever we take a trip to his favour­ite store, Home Depot, I can not help but smile as I wit­ness his bliss­ful gaze, his eyes sur­vey­ing the numer­ous aisles of lum­ber, hooks and rope.  Truth be told I am in awe of Master’s infin­ite ima­gin­a­tion and I feel incred­ibly for­tu­nate to exper­i­ence the evil instru­ments Master builds.

The pho­to­graph I have included in this entry is the most recent of tor­ture devices which came to fruition just this week.  I would say what makes this item inter­est­ing is that it is the very first piece of bond­age equip­ment that I have been eager to explore.  For reas­ons still unknown to me, I really wanted to exper­i­ence Master bind­ing me to the wooden dowel and to have Master use me in whatever way he desired.  Although I did not have a play by play as to what would tran­spire I was very aware that Master would bind my ankles so that I would be spread open and I had an ink­ling Master would some­how ensure my hands were not free.  My thoughts were cor­rect for within minutes of lying down, Master had me raise my legs and using the thick leather cuffs, he fastened my ankles to the end of the pole.  Wanting to ensure I could not sit up, Master had me place my arms in front of me, under the lower bar and secured my wrists with the attached soft leather cuffs.  Although I could still wiggle and pull my knees together, I was, most def­in­itely exposed and Master had very easy access to my cunt and ass cunt.

Within seconds my body was covered in goose­bumps and although I was slightly chilled, my shivers did not come from being cold. No, those little trembles escap­ing my lips were the res­ult of feel­ing help­less.  Physically help­less and emo­tion­ally vul­ner­able.  Very rarely does Master bind me, not because he does not enjoy it, but because too many times I have asked him not to.  My reas­ons were that I did not receive pleas­ure from being bound, that I was not aroused by such an idea, that I pre­ferred men­tal bond­age; that I wanted to be told not to move rather than “made” unable to move.  I do not believe I was lying when I expressed such views with Master for I do appre­ci­ate and become aroused when men­tally played with, men­tally com­manded.  What I have learned though is that I do in fact become aroused when securely fastened to a piece of wood; when there is no way to escape, when I am being phys­ic­ally con­trolled with no way to break free.

I am still a little in shock by the betrayal of my body and my mind and although the sen­sa­tions of the Hitachi wand and the electro-stimulating butt plug cer­tainly added to my pleas­ure, the fierce intens­ity of my orgasm came from being bound, from strug­gling with my restraints, in fight­ing a futile war between leather and muscle. There was even a moment as I pushed against the bulbous head of that magical wand all while yank­ing pain­fully at the leather cuffs when my cunt actu­ally seemed to flood and it was in that exact moment that I felt, for the very first time, an erotic con­nec­tion with being bound.  And that con­nec­tion brought about one of the most elec­tri­fy­ing orgasms I have ever exper­i­enced; a release which caused me to scream without reser­va­tions, without con­trol.  A part of me wishes that Master had taped our exchange if only so that I could hear those sounds, the moans, the whim­pers, the primal growls that viol­ently clawed their way from deep within me, from that place I am only now discovering.

One of the most fas­cin­at­ing dis­cov­er­ies through­out my mini bond­age exper­i­ence is that I am still learn­ing to trust.  This does not mean I do not trust Master, I do; how­ever, I know that the moment I felt immob­ile, com­pletely help­less I was scared and fear is just another way to define a lack of trust.  I am aware of myself enough though to know that my fear also stems from not hav­ing enough faith in myself and from wor­ry­ing that I will fail, (some­thing I work dili­gently on each day to not worry about).

A few days have passed since I felt Master’s strong hands lock me into place and after much reflec­tion I can hon­estly say that the biggest release that night came when I trus­ted Master; when I men­tally sur­rendered my body to Master, when I no longer with­held myself from him.

~His

Last night while I lounged in a warm tub, Master bathed me. The feel­ing of his fin­ger­tips and soap glid­ing across my body was for­eign, wel­com­ing and left me feel­ing excep­tion­ally vulnerable.

Last night after dry­ing my body off, I found myself over Master’s lap, embra­cing the sting of each swat Master was pla­cing on my bum and thighs and with each spank I was left with a feel­ing of love and vulnerability.

Last night, when I placed my cheek against the floor, I felt the slight pull of Master’s leash com­mand­ing my head to tilt in a spe­cific man­ner and imme­di­ately I was filled with a feel­ing of own­er­ship and vulnerability.

Last night, as I cocooned myself with Masters’ body, the weight and strength of his arms and legs hold­ing me in place, I was con­sumed with the feel­ing of secur­ity and vulnerability.

Last night, I found peace, I found accept­ance, I found my place.

I am owned. I am vul­ner­able. I am happy.