Yes, you have to sing that to the tune of Where Have All the Flower Gone. In case you don’t know that song:

But maybe the kinky is still here…

A Kinky Retreat, Part 2

I heard the doorknob turn, the door opening, and felt the cooler air from the hallway caress my body, making my nipples hard. I bit my lip.

Kneeling, naked, blindfolded, hands bound, I had a moment of pure panic. I almost blurted out, “Are you my Dom?” but that sounded too much like that children’s book, Are you my mother? And what a weird thing to think at a time like this… And my brain spun away for a moment – what am I doing here – what was I thinking – are you my mother – just ridiculous – I should just leave —

His voice interrupted my spiraling thoughts – “Sabrina,” he said. His voice was deep, rich tones, confident and warm. Just that one word, my name, caught me, and I took a breath.

“Yes, Sir,” I said, and if my voice was shaky – well, of course it was.

“Good girl,” he said, “that is a good beginning.” And I calmed a bit more, letting the ‘good girl’ soak in, easing the anxiety, touching my heart.

“I’m going to touch you,” he said, “but let’s do a check-in first. Are you comfortable holding this position – are you knees ok, are your arms or shoulders feeling a strain? Take a moment and think about it before you answer.”

If he had not added that last bit, I would have just said, “yes, Sir, I’m fine, but since he’d directed me to think about it, I did. Then, trembling a bit and uncertain, I said, “My knees are fine, and my shoulders are probably ok, but they are kind of uncomfortable. Sir.”

“Good girl,” he said again. “On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being no pain and 10 being unbearable pain, how uncomfortable are your shoulders?”

I had to think hard on that. Shimmied my shoulders a bit trying to decide. “Maybe a three or four,” I said. “Not too bad.”

“Good.” He sounded like he was smiling. “Three or four is bearable. I’m going to touch you. Do I have your consent?”

My heart was racing again, pounding. Touch me?! Where?! Omg, Yes, please, and no, thank you. Finally, I stammered, “Yes, Sir, you have my consent.”

And suddenly – I think he pulled the chair up – suddenly he was very close, I could feel his warmth right in front of me, even before he placed his hands on my head. I shivered at the intimacy of his touch. Then his palms on my cheeks, his thumbs stroking my forehead, moving purposefully with out disturbing the mask that was my blindfold Fingers exploring my cheeks, caressing me gently but firmly, then his thumbs on my lips.

My lips parted under his touch and I would have sucked his thumb into my mouth, ready to caress it. But he pulled back, patted my face gently. “Good girl,” he said.

I sighed, realizing that my pussy was throbbing, my nipples had pebbled up and were aching for his touch. I wanted him to touch me now, everywhere.

Instead, he said, “I’m going to remove your cuffs and I’ll direct you through some gentle stretches.” I felt him move behind me. He unhooked the cuffs, leaving my wrists in the cuffs but not pulled together. His hands held my shoulders, just for a minute, but I sighed again, there was so much relief in his touch.

When he spoke again, he was in front of me. “Three shoulder rolls,” he said, “Backward first – bring them forward, raise them toward your ears, then back and down. Good girl. Again.”

He had me do that three times, then reversed it so I pulled my shoulders back first, then up, forward and down. I could feel my shoulders loosening. “Now,” he said, “Slowly raise your arms so they’re even with your shoulders, good, then all the way up over your head, hands reaching for the ceiling.”

As I raised my arms, lifting my head as well, feeling my breasts pulled upward, straightening my back, he said, “Ah, yes, right there, just hold that a moment. Lovely. And you will be even lovelier with your hands fastened above your heard like that. Very nice.”

I warmed to his praise and was quite looking forward to being fastened to something above my head to please him. Then, “Now bring your hands down and clasp them together behind your neck. There you go – elbows back – yes, good girl. Hold that please, I’m going to touch you.”

My whole body was trembling now, eager for his touch. Nipples hardened, pushing forward, begging for attention, heat between my thighs…

His hands on my breasts, stroking them without touching my nipples, lifting each one as if weighing it, squeezing them. I chocked back a moan, I wanted to beg for more. But he stopped.

I felt him move behind me again. With one hand, he traced the line of my spine, from my neck all the way down, stopping just short of my ass cheeks. “Pretty,” he said. “Your posture is good. You would be lovely in a corset.”

Uncertainly, I said, “Thank you, Sir,” and he chuckled. Movement again and he was in front of me. “I’m going to remove the blindfold,” he said. “Hold the position.”