It’s well known that deprived of one sense, we pay more attention to the others. If you close your eyes and try and orient yourself, you will use your hearing and your touch to tell you where you are and to probe your surroundings. Your sense of smell begins to mean more, reveal more to you than you consciously realised before.
It’s a common theme I’ve used in several stories that one of the protagonists is blindfolded, and often restrained, sometimes even earplugs are used to deprive them of their senses. This focuses the attention of the person on their senses of smell and taste and touch to a much greater degree, “heightening” those senses that are key when we make love and intensifying the pleasure they experience – and in some cases, the pain too.
Another aspect of sensory deprivation is that it heightens our dependence on others; when we cannot see, we may have to be guided. This increases the demands of trust, and the sense of dependence experienced by the submissive indulging in the loss of their senses. First they place themselves in the power of another; then they have a sense removed, perhaps more than one. They may well be restrained in some way, be it a token such as a leash, partial, such as having hands bound, or complete by being fully restrained. Now they are reliant on their Dom for guidance, movement, and all of the essentials. In addition, the submissive may have been fully or partially undressed, heightening their sense of vulnerability and dependence.
Once again, the actual underlying theme in BDSM is not sex, or dominance, or pain. It is trust. When you are naked, with senses restricted, and restrained, you have to trust the person who placed you that way a great deal. Some do it because the apprehension of being so placed is an adrenaline rush, for others the trust and the placing of all the responsibility on the other person removes any and all inhibitions – and I cannot deny that this is my own take on it! You have to absolutely trust the other person, and that’s sometimes a big leap especially the first time.
Sensory deprivation itself can lower out inhibitions: in the story Blind Lust the submissive Anne is attending her first BDSM party, after having been introduced to the scene by her lover who is taking her. To keep her from too much apprehension, he makes a ritual of taking her: he has her dress in fetish clothing, and transports her in a small cage, as well as blindfolding her. She has no idea of where she is going, and she cannot see the party – meaning she has to experience it, and cannot do that until she is already immersed in it.
The blindfold slides over my head, cutting off my vision and muffling my hearing somewhat. Losing my sight makes me much more aware of my body. I feel every slight movement my full breasts make, every slight adjustment of my balance makes my butt move and emphasizes my slim waist.
My blond hair has grown out a little more in recent months, since I moved in with my new…what do I describe him as? “Boyfriend” doesn’t sum it up, especially as he is in his thirties while I’m in my twenties. “Lover” does not express the depths of our relationship, and “partner” implies that we are on an equal footing, when I am very aware that we are not. No, Dr. Christopher Ably is none of these things to me, save on occasion. At times like this, there is only one word that sums up his relationship to me: Master.
I, Dr. Anne Schneider, am his slave.
It’s not my day job, by day we are both researchers at a pharmaceutical company. He is my superior at work, and it is well known that we have moved in together, and people comment on how good a couple we make. Christopher works out a lot to give him a good physique, has rugged good looks, with clipped dark hair and dark eyes. I am younger, with hazel eyes and natural blond hair currently growing long. Like Chris, I work out regularly to keep me slim and fit. I’m average height and have small but perky breasts.
However, what is not known is how I am treated in that home, or how much he dictates how I live. He is my master, and I am his slave, in a BDSM relationship – that’s bondage, domination, submission and masochism, for those not in the know. It’s a situation I find intensely satisfying and very exciting. I never know quite what he will choose to do with me when we arrive home and I slip out of my office clothes and into the collar with my name –SLAVE ANNE – circling around my throat.
Master took me on as his slave half a year ago, after we had dated for a while. Since then he has taken control, collared me, punished me often, rewarded me well…and the sex has been mind-blowing.
The blindfold covers my eyes and ears tightly, restricting both sound and sight. Other than the blindfold, I am wearing a tight leather corset that cinches my waist firmly and covers me from my hips to just beneath my breasts, clearly displayed at their pert best. A pair of high-heeled shoes completes my costume, locked to my feet, and my collar is also locked onto me.
I am otherwise naked and extremely vulnerable as Master caresses my body, pinching and tweaking my nipples to stiffen them, his warm fingers working my gash to make me wet. I bite my lip and give several soft gasps and moans. The sensations are amplified by my blindness, as my mind concentrates on my other senses. I surrender to the rush, experience my skin tingle everywhere he touches me. It is an effort of will to keep still and simply allow him to do as he pleases, but I know it is expected of me. He is in charge, and I must obey. With the blindfold over my eyes I am reliant on him, and I submit my independence to his desire.
“Open wide,” he orders, and I open my mouth to have it filled with a ball-gag he secures in place with straps around my head. “Time to go,” he says in a voice filled with anticipation, only slightly muffled by the blindfold.
Tonight we are going to a party, a BDSM party. It is a first for me, up until now only Master has ever seen me dominated and restrained. This will be my first appearance as a slave before others, and I am full of apprehension.
I already know how I will travel there, and my Master assists me to climb into the “birdcage” he’s already prepared. A cylindrical steel cage, it has a door and padded seat on the floor, and legs that stand it perhaps a foot off the ground. I crawl in and sit on my haunches on the padded floor of the cage, my back to the bars opposite the door. It’s only just large enough to fit a person in this position. A strap around my waist secures me, and I extend my arms forward blindly for Master to secure my wrists to the cage door.
The flow of air around my hot skin changes. Master must be putting the cage cover on. Then the cage moves, rolling along the ground. I strive to stay silent as I feel the casters the cage rolls on bump over ridges. A jerk, and then I know we are in the elevator, descending. Each movement, each bump, amplifies the pleasure the dildo teases me with, as Master wheels me past the concierge in the lobby and out to his SUV.
I am aware of the latter, as he lifts the cage, me and all, into the back and secures it there with cargo straps. My awareness is peripheral, however. Most of my attention is taken up by the dildo still fucking me. I muffle another moan as the pace of it increases slightly. Then the sense of motion starts again. The SUV maneuvers, slowing and accelerating, turning left and right so that before long I have no idea where we are going.
After what seems like an eternity the SUV halts, and I hear the back door open. The cage is lifted out of the SUV, and then moved across smooth floor, ridges, bumps, into another elevator, more bumps. Then I hear voices… a lot of voices. Apprehension grips me again. All the worries and concerns, all the social conditioning I had overcome to accept my Master’s collar returned in force. I’m a strong, intelligent woman, with a Ph.D., no less. My upbringing screams that I should not be a sex-toy to a man. Yet the cage confinement and the blindfold made me feel blissfully free of responsibility. As a possession I need not stress over any decisions, I can just experience and enjoy what happens.
Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/qx6nhft