Writing Contest Prompts

Love is Blind

Prompt: Your main character is blind. Do not use words to describe what can be seen, but rather what can be felt, tasted, touched...

It begins like most other times do. The light disappears from view and I can feel the material settle over me like a comforting, familiar blanket. That's all I can focus on at first. The shift of leather and the soft satin of the lining as it grazes my cheeks and forehead. I keep my eyes closed since I cannot see if I open them anyways.

The minute sounds of the room begin to filter into my senses next. I can hear the hum of the air conditioning unit as it blows cool air into the space. The soft ticking of the clock on the wall that reminds us there is a world outside these four walls. The gentle sounds of the other person in the room.

His clothing brushes against his limbs as he moves. I can hear him pacing back and forth, picking up items with a tink of metal and a frush of leather. The clink and clatter of them as they are placed on his table. My breathing quickens in anticipation at what the sounds mean to me. I can practically taste the leather on my tongue.

I can feel my skin like a living thing around me. It tenses and moistens with a thin sheen of dampness. My hearing is drowned out by the beating of my heart just long enough for him to get close to me without me hearing. His warm, calloused hand descends on my stomach for a glancing stroke and I jump, startled.

"Easy love." His voice rumbled out of him like thunder in the quiet space. I grasp onto it like a lifeline. Tracing the words in my brain like a prayer. I let them soothe me, and my limbs slowly ease their tension. It is what he has been waiting for. The sweep of cool, hard leather traces the length of my arm.

Snap. A burning sting of pain blossoms on my radial muscles. My breath comes in a hiss. He doesn't wait for my brain to keep up though. The tracing continues across my chest and down the other arm. Another snap against my bicep. He keeps me guessing. Where will he go next? What will feel the sting of leather?

It is a mind game that I lose myself in. I am working myself up as my skin sensitises to each smack, tap, and drag. I tense and buck as he reddens the skin of my tender places. My hands shake when he catches the edge of a nipple or the crook of my elbow. I gasp when the rigid material strokes down the swollen flesh of my cock.

I tense in vain. My body throbs as it waits for the next hit. There is nothing. Nothing but the hum, the tick, and the pounding rush of my blood. I can feel the heat of him in the cool room. Like a looming threat, he stands close enough that I know he is there watching. He walks away and I want to protest the absence of his warmth.

A clatter. He has discarded his tool and my body relaxes on instinct. Just for a moment it aches and buzzes with the un-tensing of my limbs. His rustling clothes come close again and I struggle in vain not to tense. The faint jingle of metal reaches my ears before the searing hot pain of clamps brings a cry from my lips.

My focus is solely on my chest. I unconsciously try to reach for them to rip them off, but the binds around my wrists hold me back. The leather cuts into the soft flesh to remind me that I am not in control. He sweeps his fingers over the chains and tugs them gently to pull at my nubs painfully. I taste the metallic tint of discomfort.

I whimper. He hums in satisfaction and the sound travels through me like a warm waterfall. My head droops forward in submission, accepting that he is pleased and enduring the pain. I lick my lips, tasting the salty flavour of my sweat. His hand wraps around my dick firmly and I get goosebumps as he gently strokes down the length.

I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck raise at the gesture. Is it a precursor to more pain? Does it mean I will get to feel pleasure? My lips tremble when the coolness of lube drips down it. The cold slide against my heated flesh is enough to make my toes curl. They do, when his hot hand spreads it around and pumps my dick firmly.

My head falls back. His firm grasp glides up and down to coil my gut up in knots. The ache in my cock throbs in time with the ache in my abused chest. Like they are the same feeling, it fools my brain into arching into each slap of the chains across my chest as he jacks me off. I am trembling on the precipice of an orgasm.

So he stops. This time I do protest, begging in such a pitiful voice that echoes in the too silent room. He waits. Listening as my muttering trails off into whimpers and the sniffling of gentle sobs. I feel a hand stroke gently through my hair. It calms me. I focus on the feeling of his fingers pulling through the short locks, tugging and scratching a little at my scalp.

"Ready?" He asks me. I take a deep breath and nod. His hand drops and his warmth is gone. I measure each breath, keeping them steady as I wait. I hear the frush of the next tool and my mind is squirming with anticipation. I feel him snap on the cock ring to keep my abused member thick with blood and brace myself internally.

He starts on my legs. The crack of the flogger stinging the already sensitive flesh and making it burn red. My breathing hitches with each swipe. Next he gets my arms, forcing open my hands before he snaps down on them. My nerve endings are shouting. The throb is making my whole body feel like it is a beating heart.

My sweat is trickling down my face like a cool trace of death's fingertip. I am trembling as I wait for the next hit. He does not disappoint me. Like a crash of thunder, it descends on my chest. I scream with the sharp jolt of electricity that spreads into my veins from the clamps that still swing there. I squirm with each flick of those dangerous strips of torture. They are going down. Lower and lower.

Across my smooth belly that now feels like a pool of molten lava churning with pain and fiery passion. My cries grow harsher with each flick of the device. My body trembles and drips sweat from my armpits, the backs of my knees and the flat of my back. It trickles across my skin like an itch I cannot scratch, adding to my discomfort.

Snap! My whole body arches up and my cries are silent. My tears fall from behind the mask in rivulets down my cheeks. My body is one living arc of electricity. It does not listen to me anymore as I am transported. I feel like I am apart from it, watching from a distance as it pulses and shudders from the cracks of the flogger against my most private piece of myself.

My gasps are only for oxygen. My body shakes and can no longer even tense for the next hit. I cannot even register when the cock ring is unsnapped and I cumm in spectacular fashion. I don't notice that the room is silent once again. It is over, but I am still there. I am still trapped in the feeling. I am still floating in a place where nothing can hurt me.

My chest is released and I can barely register the pain of the blood rushing into the pert flesh. My mask is removed, but my eyes are still shut against the glare of reality. My feet are released, but they hang limp and unwilling to support me. My hands are released, only to drape over the warm body of my protector.

The one who will carry me, clean me, and hold me until I can see again.

My torturer, my lover, and my Master.