The prelude of torment
Already the low screeching of electric violins which exacerbated your anticipation as you were let in the penumbral sanctuary of the dark baroque room, receded in the wooly memory of the mundane. The first assaults on your senses made of contrasting textures and sensations led you to shed layers of tensions which fail on the persian carpet like heavy silk.
In the tranquility of the opulent vessel, blindfolded, you concentrated on my voice materialising in the dark as I guided your hands on the white leather surface of the medical bed, before nudging you to lie on your stomach on the cool bench.
A slow pumping rhythm started, luring you imperceptibly to descend the staircase of your mind. You adjusted your respiration to the regular soft beat, as your wrists were trapped in leather cuffs and attached to the bed with two remote clinking of metal.
A layer of dull string vibrations and a remote gong washed on the shores of the higher pitched violins, alternatively engulfing and revealing their laments, to the soft beat, inexorable. The ropes snaked around each of your legs, spreading them apart and fastening them to a series of steel eyes protruding from the heavy metal frame along the padded platform. At the top of each thigh, the hemp cord was tighten across your buttocks, they help in place the hook introduced earlier in your anal 'eye'. A harness of hemp supporting the anal hook strangled your waist; it was now used to further secure you to the bench by lateral length of ropes which left your back a blank canvas ready for my needles.....
Needlework by Nuit d'Or ©2017