My desktop slave  

Greathands54 64M
15 posts
3/13/2006 8:30 pm
My desktop slave

I have this picture on my “adult” desktop, of a woman chained to the floor of an old, stark bathroom - clean, fresh paint make it attractive , but the latex-clad woman in the centre is really what makes the picture come alive.
My slave is dressed ‒ or partially undressed rather ‒ tight black latex stockings on long long legs, tight melon colored latex top exposing luscious breasts. Black hair, pageboy cut, framing deep, gold flecked eyes, which are looking
right into mine. Her lower torso is fully exposed, framed as it is by her shiny costume-wrap, open and available…

A simple touch of my hands and I watch those eyes widen
and their focus go soft as her gaze turns inward, connecting with those nerve
endings which are now busy reloading from learned memory. An interior voyage
for my luscious slave lies ahead.

A fine picture, but what really thrills me is the long thin chain dangling from a simple black collar around my slave’s neck. The chain is lying in coils across her shapely hips, running to the stanchion on the floor by the sink. Another stanchion, this one bolted to the ceiling, frames the upper edge of the picture. A clinical place, but
leaving the floor open to my vivid imagination.

My lovely, sultry slave has been waiting expectantly in the
corner for the past hour or so. I watch from time to time from my side of this reality. Her legs now splayed apart, she’s playing with her juicy
lips, gently running her latex-clad fingers along their pulpy length, inserting
her fingers in her tight pussy to probe, and slide, and prepare her holes for
my probing assault. Her eyes close from time to time, as she’s lost in her
thoughts…, knowing her master will enter soon and take control.

In gazing at this picture, I want to intimately inspect her latex wrapped body, run my hands here and there, taking stock of her pelvis, her physical, flesh, lovely mound, breath, lips, tongue...and bend and alter her pose to fulfill my more esthetic desires…

Hard to do though… it is a picture after all, not a reality of this moment.

On again off again I’ve lived and imagined these scenes ‒
this fulfillment of my most intimate sexual ‒ and sensual ‒ desires. All things being fair, my partner of 13 years would look fabulous in latex. Twelve years my junior, she’s beautiful, and athletic. Long body, long hair, thin shapely hips, flat belly ‒ she runs 20 or 30k a week. Physically the epitome of my esthetic desire in a woman. After long relationships with dancers and athletes over the years, a certain form has been imprinted on my mind. My hands just flow naturally along their lines...and I'm both comfortable and satisfied with playing with that particular canvas...

Judging by our time together, she’s utterly unaware of and disinterested in her female libido. No sexual creature is she…and very private about it too.
Early on my interest in Andrew Blake, and the esthetics of sexual play was
dismissed as porn…early on and then in flashes since having our kids, she’s willing
to submit (in a non-bdsm way) to my imaginative lovemaking, but always stopping
short of letting go, always in control of her emotions, a stalwart resistance
to erotic pleasure. I don’t know why ‒ it’s not a subject that’s up for
discussion. Oral sex (receive) is a pleasure for her… oral sex (giving) is not
up for discussion. “I just don’t like that”…and so, 14 years later, except for
several months of exquisite pleasure in the company of my pro-domme mistress
cum slave…it’s been a life of pseudo-pleasure on photo shoots and sets, and
worshipping at the altar of my own right hand…unfair for someone who had an
active, and rather erotic past. Where did that resolve go over the past
fourteen years?

I lost control somewhere along the way. And now I don't know how to introduce this into out relationship. And since my libido and creativity are indelibly linked, my creative soul has suffered from the lack of direct physical contact, and enforced secrecy. It’s not healthy to lead a second life, if you're not comfortable living that way. Some people thrive anyway, because they live their own lives first...I haven't found that resolve, and the dichotomy is harder and hander to handle.

She’s still seeing a therapist from time to time, but I’m still in the dark as there’s not a word from her about the whys or the wherefores. I haven’t seen any increased desire to talk, or have sex. Or to let go in some imaginative way, reaching for that welcome sub-space of abandon and fulfillment. Safe fulfillment.

I asked my partner several months ago if she had any fantasies…what do you mean she asked?…you know I said - sexual fantasies, sensual, erotic thoughts...etc etc. If you could, what would you do, or see? I don’t know…I don’t have fantasies. I don’t think like that…and she’s right, she doesn’t.
I do. All the time… threesomes, costume dramas, being bound, giving and receiving forced sex, …s and m without sex would be something I need to experience, or being intimate with someone whose sexuality is open to question, discovering other races. When I'm having sex, or being intimate, I dive right in. No inhibitions, an open mind, I love touching, and fucking, and just experiencing physical pleasure or sensations. These are all things that drive my curiosity and imagination. Seeking permission to do these imaginative, craven things when you’re linked to the Ivory Soap girl is a complicated thing. It’s now the yin and the yang of my existence.

When I close this dialogue box after saving this document,
my slave will be there on my desktop, waiting - as always - for me to step into
the scene, and take control. And so I must.

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