My name is Danny, and I thought it would be fun to tell you about the first time I was ever shown how much pleasure a young man can have being introduced into the world of sensual bondage.
Let me tell you a bit about myself. I just recently graduated from college. I am almost 6’2” tall, but can only be described as skinny. I have worked out to the point of total exhaustion for years, but simply am not able to bulk up. I keep my light brown hair well below my shoulders, and have a very light beard which I keep neatly trimmed. I confess this is to give a bit of maturity to my face, since I still far too easily am mistaken for a middling teenager.
I guess it’s due to my upbringing, but I have always been utterly comfortable being naked, and it was never uncommon to find any of my parents or myself in a state of little or no clothing about the house as was convenient, although nudity was not particularly encouraged. It was simply an occasional fact of life. As a result of this attitude, as soon as I turned sixteen, my parents were happy to sign a release allowing me to earn a tidy sum of money posing in the nude for art classes at the local college. My mother even went so far as to give me one of her comfy, old bathrobes to use at work. For some reason, I was considered an excellent subject, something about being such an unusual body shape and type, I believe, and as well, it was quite odd at first to hear, but I did receive the occasional compliment regarding my private parts. Far from being overly large or some such, my penis, particularly when semi-erect, was quite frequently regarded as pretty. This comment was so common and given with such sincere delight esthetically, that I could hardly take offense at such an odd thing, but rather it became something I allowed myself a small amount of pride in.
Another bit of background, I sleep in the nude, from a very early age, and have for some years now preferred to block out all light with a sleep mask, even at night. A couple of years ago, my mother gave me an old silk scarf that had raveled at the seam a bit, and I have used it ever since as a blindfold. There is something so utterly relaxing about feeling the soft, silky fabric slide across my closed eyes that I truly find going to sleep every night a sort of guilty pleasure. I let the free ends dangle down across my naked shoulders, mingling with my hair as I slip under the cover, and in a moment, I am in dreamland.
On to the story. About a year ago, I was finishing up a modeling session at college, and noticed an ad on the bulletin board by the classroom door. The sign was a call for nude artist models who were willing to push their limits to assist students to explore deeper realms of inspiration. “Why don’t they just say porn?” I must have said out loud, because the art teacher was standing right there and she touched her hand lightly on my shoulder.
“Not at all, Danny. The teacher is a former student of mine, and it’s not like that at all.” She gave me such a comforting smile, that I wrote down the email address and resolved to check it out further.
Needless to say, I got a positive response the very next day, and was requested that afternoon for an interview. I found myself oddly thrilled as I approached the private studio at the appointed time. There was just something about the whole vibration of the project that seemed like it would be a real adventure. Little did I know.
I opened the door into the suite and was greeted by a very well-appointed reception area, with expensive leather couches and matching chairs, and excellent oil paintings on the walls, all originals, mostly but not all nudes. Perhaps responding to a signal from the opened door, a woman entered from the interior studio and moved to greet me.
“You must be Danny,” she almost trilled. She was a very striking sight. In fashionable, very stylish heels, she was nearly as tall as I am. Her hair was a rich, honey blonde and was loosely, but very professionally, held in a thick, soft ponytail cascading down her back. She was wearing a simple but elegant emerald green dress that positively shone. Clearly made of the finest imported silk satin, the fabric clung to her statuesque form like morning dew on a summer lawn. There was no mistaking that her pert breasts were not encumbered with a bra, and this unavoidable observation led my gaze downward to conclude that I could find nothing resembling a panty line either.
As I nodded, unable to find words as I drank in her stylish beauty, she smiled sweetly and reached out to take hold of my hand. I felt a palpable electricity as her fingers found mine, and followed meekly as she gracefully pulled me forward. “Let me show you the studio. Oh, silly me, I’m Joanna.” I smiled in response.
As we entered the studio, I was further impressed by the wide range of equipment and props, arrayed systematically about the large, immaculately kept space. She allowed me a moment to drink in the whole experience, then finally spoke again. “Well, what do you think?” she asked, realizing how much I had been affected.
Finding speech at last, I nodded again and said, “Wonderful. Simply wonderful.”
Pleased, she smiled once more, then suddenly got a bit serious. “I hope you don’t find this a bit odd, but due to the nature of the assignment, would it be a problem if I asked you to get nude for a moment? Normally, it wouldn’t be necessary. You’re obviously a seasoned professional and come highly recommended, but this particular group of students needs a special level of comfort in their models.”
“No”, I found myself saying. “That makes sense. How do you want me?”
She extended an arm, almost as if dancing, and indicated a small door to one side. “You can change in there. I’ve a left robe hanging for you. Please feel free. My studio is your studio.” With a gentle touch to my lower back, she urged me into motion, and I headed into the changing room.
When I got there, no surprise, the classiness of the whole setup was not compromised by the dressing rooms either. As I eased the door closed and set down my shoulder bag, my eyes came to rest on the robe that was on a padded hanger as indicated. It was a full length silk satin garment, long enough even for my height, in the creamiest burgundy shade of luxury I had ever seen. I was barely able to contain myself from indecorously throwing off my clothes to experience its soft folds enveloping my naked body. Instead, I carefully disrobed, hanging up everything neatly, then at last allowed myself to take hold of the garment. Even as my fingers made contact, I knew how glorious it would feel. Sliding it off the hanger and across my nude form, it was all I had imagined and more.
Suddenly worried that I was taking too long, I quickly tied off the sash in front, and emerged back into the studio. Joanna was standing there as before, calmly, patiently waiting for me to reappear. “I knew that color would suit you,” she purred. I was in such a state of heightened senses, my mind never wondered how that could be. She reached out her hand again, and I stepped toward her, my naked feet silently padding across the imported tile floor as my entire body was caressed magically by the silken robe.
Without further ceremony, she reached her fingers up to the belt of the garment and asked politely, “May I?” I nodded. She tugged loose the sash and, in one fluid motion, eased the robe off my shoulders and slid it completely away. I let my arms slip effortlessly out of the sleeves, unable to do anything but let her work her magic. Draping the waves of satin over one forearm, she stood there, assessing my sudden nudity as a consummate professional.
“Don’t worry. I’ll give it back in a moment,” she said, sensing sympathetically my feeling of loss of the pleasures of the fine silk on my body. She let it brush up against me a bit as she gently touched my shoulders to turn me around and around to view me from all different angles. As this proceeded on, you can correctly assume that my penis decided to make a statement of how much I was finding the whole experience pleasurable. As my semi-engorged member came into view on a final turn, she exclaimed as you might imagine, “Oh, what a very pretty penis you have.”
Nodding stupidly, I confirmed, “I suppose so. I hear that quite a bit.”
She became almost comically philosophical. “In art, the whole size debate flies right out the window. Your shape, your skin tone, the way the light can play off the angles and textures . . . it’s just perfect!” As if taking a bow, the subject of the discussion became fuller still and started bobbing up and down slightly. We looked up into each other’s eyes at exactly the same moment, and together burst into laughter in sheer delight over the entire experience. I found myself so comfortable, so at home, so relaxed while being utterly naked in the presence of this amazing beauty as we discussed the esthetics of my penis, I was wishing the moment could last forever.
Sensing this, Joanna smiled again. “Danny, I believe you are exactly what I am looking for. I just have one more thing to check out, if you don’t mind.” She casually put down the robe over the back of a chair, and moved close again.
“Sure. What do you need me to do?”
Without a word, she pulled a bit at her dress, and the collar came free, revealing that what I had thought to be part of the dress was actually a matching scarf loosely tied about her neck. As she began to fold it diagonally, she gently commanded, “If I could have you just close your eyes for a moment.”
Seeing the soft green scarf moving inexorably toward my eyes, I instinctively shut them and instantly felt the familiar sensation of being blindfolded in satin silk. As she gently but snugly tied the ends behind my head, she felt my breath catch for a brief second, then just release in a sigh of pure relaxation.
“You don’t mind being blindfolded?” she stated as much as asked.
“Not at all. I sleep blindfolded in the nude every night.” I found myself admitting. “It’s very relaxing to me.”
“I can see it is. And pleasurable as well,” she must have been observing my penis bobbing again in delight. She moved right in close to me so that I could feel her breath across my naked neck and chest, and she took hold of my two hands and raised them to her breast reassuringly.
“Let me explain,” she finally said. “The group of students I need you to work with are highly repressed erotically. They are all very skilled, but, for one reason or another, have never found approval to let themselves explore one of the highest artistic expressions, the nude human form in all its finest sensuality.”
“That’s very sad,” I managed through my darkness.
“I’m glad you see it that way. My techniques in class are many, but as far as they relate to you, the first few sessions you will need to be completely blindfolded from before they arrive until after they are gone. It’s part of my trust issue with them. As their model, you are literally entrusting your naked, sensual essence into their delicate, searching hands. Without judgment or potential risk on their part. It’s the best, fastest, most successful way to let them open themselves up to their deeper feelings as the artists we hope they can become.”
“So, I’m to be naked and blindfolded as they arrive?”
“Exactly. Trust me. You’ll do wonderfully.” She stepped away, still holding my hands, and led me carefully across the studio floor. She stopped me, and I heard and felt her pull away some cover from something. A few further rustles of preparation, and she took my hand once more.
“Here. Step up. I’ve prepared the stage for you.”
I let her guide me through my sensual blackness up onto a slightly elevated platform, and my feet immediately understood that it was draped completely with more of the fine, imported silk satin. “Down,” was all she said, as she eased me onto my naked rear, the silk caressing me like a thousand tiny butterflies. I braced myself with my hands, and allowed my fingers to run across the glorious fabric as I fully understood the experience I was being given.
“Mmm. Just tell me what color it is.”
“It’s a deep midnight blue. You look amazing stretched out across it.”
As I communed with my feelings, I heard her moving about in front of me. After a moment, she moved in closer again, only now I heard her voice from behind me.
“Almost done. Give me your hands, Danny.” Again, her voice was as soft music, yet utterly commanding.
Without thinking, I lifted my hands up, and felt her pull them behind my back. Right away, I felt another strip of soft, satiny silk being wrapped around my wrists, gripping them inescapably together. She wrapped around and around, then through and cinched, and I realized that I was suddenly utterly helpless with my hands tied behind my back.
She continued to work as she explained. “From time to time, there will need to be actual physical contact as they explore the shapes and textures of your naked body. At those times, you will need to be completely bound so as not to risk accidentally initiating any touching by you.” As I listened to this in a dreamlike mist of utter surrender, she added another loop of satin drawing my elbows tightly together. As she released my arms at last, I managed to brace myself up with my two hands together, adjusting my body to the unfamiliar sensation of having my arms useless and my chest thrust out firmly.
I felt her move back around in front of me, and she gripped my feet and moved them gently together. Repeating the process, I found myself bound tighter and tighter, with silken belts around my ankles and just below my knees.
Her voice came through like the song of an angel. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. This is amazing.”
“Are you still interested in the assignment, Danny?”
It was like asking me if I wanted to be happy for the rest of my life. “Of course. If you’ll have me, I’m yours completely.”
“I accept. Can you open your mouth for me, Honey?” I did. She gently filled my mouth with more of the soft, liquid heaven, packing it in fully and tightly. She finished the gag with yet another scarf tied across my mouth and behind my neck to show me that further talk was utterly unimportant. I felt another scarf around my chest, lashing my arms firmly against my torso, and then she was finished.
Or, should I say, and then she was able to begin. After a moment allowing me to adjust to my condition, she began to touch me. Her fingers glided and slid across my skin. Everywhere. Simply everywhere. Not as a lover, as more, much more. As a fellow explorer, setting out to sea in search of whatever might be there to discover together.
I knew she was testing my limits to make me utterly at peace with what would be expected of me as the instrument of these budding artists, trapped by their inhibitions so much more than I was trapped in my bonds of satin silk. I was hers, I would be theirs.
And it was absolutely amazing to be in glorious silk surrender.
Part two if people like the story
story continues in The Art of Silk Surrender 2
o0o