In The Dark, I Find More

For the first time in what feels like hours, I think I might be able to catch my breath.

In the dark behind the blindfold I abandon sight. I close off the sense, the colors and the images lost to me in a haze of soft silk wrapped around my head. With no need to concentrate on that, my body is **** to adjust.

I've been suffered, caught in a moment where my senses are on fire because I keep on feeling everything at once and so for the first time I'm able to take stock now, able to slow down and actually analyze myself.

Taste. It's useless now. Only the acidic bite of myself in my mouth and that's easy to ignore.

Smell. Don't need that either.

Five senses and one of them cut off and two others easy to ignore which only leaves two remaining. Just Hearing. Just Touch.

I can live with that.

All of my attention is focused on that, tuned to the slightest vibrations that signal a movement or a sound and taking them in, building a picture as I concentrate on the world around me.

Not at first though. At first it's too hard to shut out my own body. At first all I can feel and all I can hear is myself.

Ragged breath. Pounding heartbeat. Blood pumping through my veins and my body twisting and turning by tiny increments as I try to struggle free of the bonds that are holding me. The sound of me swallowing followed by my teeth chattering. The twitch of my brow as I furrow it and even that has noise too.

By moments I drift out. I take in not the world around me but how I imprint myself on it. I listen to my hair brushing against the pillow. The bonds tightening around my skin as I move. The bedsheets beneath me rustling as I try to push towards the woman who has left me wanting and eager and bound.

So I search for her.

I hear her. Her breath and the padding of her feet. A little humming noise as she putters about my room busying herself looking through my things. The mumbled murmers that gradually come into tune as I focus my ears on her and pick out the soft words she speaks to herself.

"That one won't do."

"Too thick. No way she can take it."

"Not hard enough."

"Way too fucking hard."

"Oh god," a chuckle, "Can you imagine how hard she'd cum with this inside of her."

I know what's happening and I want it and god I can do nothing to stop it. Rachel is searching for something to take the place of a toy, a vibrator or a dildo that she can use to fuck me as a substitute for someone else. For something else. For the hard and thick and warm and living cock of a man and she's going to fuck me with it.

And god, I'm going to take it.

I moan into my gag and she laughs in response to it. I hear her rustling somewhere near the foot of the bed and then I hear her stop.

The sound of something firm slapping into an open palm. The chuckle of bemusement as she finds not her toy, but her tool.

"This is it," she says to herself, "I'm ready. Is she?"

I know that I am. I know that I want it. I know that I need it, need to feel it and have it and love it and crave it and take it.

Oh god, I want to fucking take it.

For a limited time you can join my Patreon for only $2 and get access to over a month's worth of new pages of My Second Chance as well as EIGHT FULL STORIES with a new one every month! Join here: https://www.patreon.com/SophiePert