The Art of Silk Surrender - part two
In part one, I told you about how my more typical career as a nude art school model took a sharp, sensual turn into submissive silk bondage at the hands of a very special teacher of erotically repressed art students. I covered the initial interview and meeting with Joanna, the inspired teacher on a mission of sensual discovery, and how she auditioned and then accepted me as the instrument to be used for her charges on their journey to the heart of their own erotic inspirations. I left myself at the point of being introduced into the world of being bound hand and foot, naked, gagged and blindfolded, all in luxurious silk satin scarves and sashes.
After Joanna had finished exploring and provoking my nude, helplessly bound body with her soft, confident fingers, she took another piece of what seemed to be an endless supply of silk and passed it over every inch of my exposed skin as I somehow managed to remain sitting relatively upright on the satin draped platform, propping myself unsteadily by my pair of bound arms behind me. Her touch had of course excited me sexually, but the way she had passed her fingers across my entire body had somehow intensified and spread my feeling of excitement from being localized in my cock into a warm wave of erotic pleasure I was happy to bathe in over my entire physical essence. I would not be cumming, and I was not in distress about the fact. I was, rather, content to let the waves of pleasure wash over me without any of the urgency and pressure I usually feel when stimulated sexually. In fact, I was prepared to let this go on for as long as possible. As her fingers were replaced by the caress of the satin fabric, it was as if she was perfectly smoothing away the last rough edges of my male need for assertive gratification, and I at last let myself lie back fully down on the sea of silk, imagining myself literally glowing in the radiance of the erotic contentment that was silently, softly, seductively overwhelming me.
I felt her drape the last piece of silk over my reclining form, and sensed her footsteps moving off, allowing me my own private time to savor and then return from the sensual bliss of her ministrations and her stimulations. The bonds at my wrists and elbows were as tight as ever, but they were the embrace of a lover, not the rough device of a prison. I may have even drifted off to a cozy sleep for a few moments, before finally letting my breath deepen again as I felt the urge to return at last to the world of normal sensations.
As if on cue, Joanna approached me once more, and I felt her soft lips against my right ear. “Shall I untie you now?” she offered. Still gagged, I nodded softly, and struggled to rise up again. “No, no, just relax,” she purred. I lay back down, and felt her slowly loosen the sashes binding my knees and ankles, letting the soft bonds slip away from their grip on my legs and allowing me to separate my limbs at last.
She moved around behind me and I felt her fingers working the knots on the satin belts on my elbows. As they came free, the pressure on my chest released and I found myself sinking back against the softness of her satin covered breasts. She allowed me to rest against her blissfully as she released the final belt, and my hands came free to end my journey into the realm of helpless submission. I involuntarily rolled around and wrapped my arms around Joanna, and she returned my embrace warmly.
At last, she whispered in my ear again, “You see? This is why your hands must be bound. The senses take over and fingers move with a will of their own.” I smiled behind my gag, and knew she was utterly correct. Were my hands free, they would always reach out and take over. I must be bound. There is nothing else to be done to protect the integrity of the explorations which lay ahead, explorations of me rather than by me.
She let me continue to hold her as she loosened the scarf of my gag, then let it fall free as she gently pulled the packing out of my mouth. I let out a long, contented sigh, and smiled again, hoping she would see how utterly happy I was.
“Come on,” she beckoned, as she gently pulled me, still blindfolded with the one remaining scarf, to my feet and off the platform back to the coolness of the tile flooring. I let her lead me in sweet darkness across the studio once more, and then we stopped. I felt the familiar sensation of the luxurious folds of the dressing gown across my shoulders, and let her slide my arms into the sleeves. She wrapped the front closed around my still hard but not at all impatient penis, and felt her tie the belt closed. Only then, returning me to a clothed, but still blissfully silky, state did she reach up and remove her green satin kerchief from across my eyes. As I opened them almost reluctantly, my vision returned to see her knot the scarf back around her own neck and flip the long, silky blond ponytail out and over it.
We shared a deeply profound smile, words being utterly unnecessary. I found myself wrapping my arms around myself, wanting to prolong the experience for as long as I possibly could. At last, she reached up with her right hand and held my chin affectionately. “I think you get the idea,” she purred.
Finding my voice at long last, I responded. “I believe I understand, yes.”
“Tuesdays at seven, then? For the next ten weeks?”
“I will be here. I’ll be here at six thirty.” Frankly, I would have been happy to sleep on that satin covered platform every night for the whole series of sessions.
“See you then.” She let her hand drop from my chin and let it caress down my satin covered chest, savoring a thought that made her smile softly to herself. As her fingers reached my abdomen, she gave me a gentle but irresistible push toward the changing room, and I returned the dressing gown to its hanger and pulled on my clothes, filled with a bittersweet longing to be doing almost anything else but getting dressed to leave.
As I emerged from the changing room, I saw her shadow in the interior office at the far side, and heard her musical voice chanting softly on the telephone. I assumed that I should let myself out, and slid out into the cool, evening air, knowing that everything from this moment forward had been irrevocably altered, and much, much for the better for that.
As you can imagine, the days until Tuesday felt like years. It was almost impossible to concentrate on anything else I had to be doing, I was so enthralled by the joyous feelings of being tied up nude and entangled in Joanna’s sensual silken sashes. Each night, as I slid into bed, I found myself unable to resist lashing my own ankles together with my dressing gown belt and doing my best to wrap my wrists together with the belt from my jeans. It was a very poor substitute for letting an expert render me totally helpless, but I was desperate for some way of recalling and recreating that timeless moment of complete surrender. Each night, I eventually drifted off into sleep, and dreamed of her. Of her power, of her grace, of her soft voice and her firm will. Of her complete domination of my heart and my body. Of her.
Tuesday finally arrived, and I actually found myself waiting in front of the locked studio door at a quarter to six. At six ten, my heart leaped at the sound of her approaching footsteps, and she giggled sweetly to find me hovering there so impatiently. As before, she was a vision in satin, this time a sky blue skirt and off white blouse, with a neck scarf to match her skirt and her blonde tresses draped loosely across her shoulders and down her back. Again, she cupped my chin with a hand as if greeting a beloved pet. “Aren’t you sweet to be here so early.”
I grinned foolishly, and followed her inside as she unlocked and opened the door. She bent down to gather up the few stray bits of mail on the floor, then looked up at my eager face. “All right. Go ahead. The robe is waiting for you. You might as well change now so I have a moment to myself to check my messages.”
“Thank you,” I managed, and headed straight for the dressing room. True to her word, the burgundy robe was on its hanger, and I could almost hear it calling out my name.
I pulled off my clothes a bit more hastily this time, but still found enough control to fold everything neatly as I stood there naked. At last, I was ready, and I slid the robe off its hanger and onto my waiting nude body. Figuring she would want me to take my time, I allowed myself a few moments to run my fingers across the luxurious satin now washing across my skin, and for the first time noticed there was a mirror there. I continued to caress myself as I studied my reflection as I modeled the robe for myself. Instinctively sensing she was waiting, I broke my private reverie and padded out into the studio.
Sure enough, she was standing over by the model’s platform, gazing distractedly at the rich, blue satin drape covering it. There was something different this time, however, as the cover was hiding something very tall to make it resemble a small tent in some rich sultan’s harem or some such exotic thing. She turned as I approached, and lifted a hand to beckon me to come to her. I quickened my pace, and was at her side in an instant.
“Are you ready for this?” she intoned dramatically. I nodded eagerly. “Very well, then. Let us make you prepared.” She pulled back the blue silk covering to reveal the platform. This time, there was a tall post slightly to the rear of the center of the stage, and it was about the thickness of a telephone pole, only it was obviously thickly padded and wrapped with more of the rich, blue silk satin.
“I thought we’d try a standing pose for your first week.” She tilted her head slightly, and I nodded for her to proceed. As in my audition, she was utterly at ease in taking complete control of me. She undid the belt of my robe, and I shrugged it off into her waiting hands. She collected the expanse of satin fabric that had been my only covering, and tossed it over her left shoulder to get it out of the way as she turned me round and round, studying my every inch of all-exposed skin, muscle and bone. She gathered up my hair and pulled it back behind me a second, then changed her mind and let it fall free again.
Gliding over to her supply closet, she hung the robe inside, and I reluctantly watched the last thing I could call clothing disappear for the remainder of the evening. Moving back to me with her hands full of soft, thick satin sashes, she nudged me with that now familiar and always reassuring pressure in the small of my back to get up onto the platform. The silk of the lower drapery was soft and cool on my bare feet as I stepped toward the pole which was apparently to be my home for the duration.
“How do you want me?” I wondered as much to myself as looking for instructions.
“Facing me with your back right up against the pillar.” I backed myself up against the post and found it indeed to be comfortably padded as well as sensually soft and smooth with the silken wrapping. I pressed my heels, my buttocks and my shoulders as far into the padding as I could, and looked up at her expectantly. She kicked her heels off and stepped up onto the platform with me, letting one of the sashes glide across my shoulder and down my right arm as she moved behind the pillar.
“Give me your hands, Honey,” she commanded in that musical tone that was like a siren song, seducing me once again into her sensuous clutches. I reached my hands back behind me and felt her draw my wrists together behind the post and lash them firmly palms together, wrapping and cinching them so that I was utterly trapped. My arms embraced the padded post in an erotic reverse hug that pressed my upper arms deep into the cushioning protecting me from the hard wooden pillar beneath it.
Joanna moved around in front again, and looked into my eyes and smiled. “Okay?”
“Yes.” I felt the need to say more. “This is very different from before, but it’s fine. It’s more than fine. I feel wonderful.”
“You were born for this, Danny. I’m convinced of it now,” she smiled sincerely. “You’re such a natural submissive, I feel honored to be the one to lead you to the depths of your true heart’s desires.”
As I mused on these words that caressed me more profoundly than a lover’s touch, she reached up with a blindfold of the finest black satin silk, and I closed my eyes as she wrapped the scarf across my face and tied it off behind my head. Before I was even able to fully relax into my private world of sensual darkness, I felt her binding my ankles together, then fixing them to the post, rendering me utterly helpless and immobile. With confident, practiced hands, she similarly bound and secured my knees, waist, chest and shoulders, and I quickly found that I could stiffly turn my head a few degrees, and that was it.
I felt her fingers on my cock, and it jumped in response. “My, my, this is such a pretty, pretty penis. I almost think someone should tie my hands or I’m liable to do something myself. Goodness me!” She let out a melodious laugh that was pure delight and I found myself joining in, laughing out into the void from my black, silky prison.
I felt her fingers brush my lips. “Open wide, my dear.” I did and was rewarded with a thickly packed mouthful of silk. I felt her secure it in firmly with a knotted scarf, then felt her smooth yet another one over that one to give a neat top scarf look to complete my total silencing.
“You know something?” Her voice was light and practical suddenly. “If I was a bit smarter, I’d have had you help me arrange the easels and chairs before I tied you up.”
I mmmmphed in response as best as I could that I would do anything for her.
“Oh, well. What’s done is done. And you, my sweet boy, are as done as can be. . . . Aren’t you?” I tried to cooperate with her by straining futilely against my bonds, and she laughed again. “Oh, yes. I think you are. I better cover you up before I lose my train of thought and forget where I am.”
I heard and felt her rustling around a bit, then realized she was pulling the large top cover back over the stage, hiding me away to be dramatically unveiled to her class as if I were some sculptural masterpiece. She, I assume for my personal benefit, somehow managed to end up dragging the fine satin across my bound, naked body several times before being satisfied with its placement, and my penis was sticking straight out straining to get another feel of the fabric which by the way it was falling was just out of its eager reach. I settled in, even more alone and in my own world, as I felt the closeness and heaviness of the air as I stood there under the massive layer of satin drapery. I shifted as best I could against the soft but unyielding grip of my bonds, not to escape but to savor and heighten the sense of joyful helplessness which was warming every inch of my body. So overwhelming were the erotic sensations washing through my entire body, I could just barely be aware of Joanna’s activity scant feet away from my bound, naked form as she prepared the studio for the arrival of the first students.
I tried to imagine how I would feel as the silk fell away and revealed my naked surrender to these unknown seekers, these, from my perspective, nameless, formless souls striving for a glimpse and maybe a touch of the pure, naked truth that had come so easily to my own self. I tried to imagine their faces as they were perhaps at first shocked and repulsed, then slowly bit by bit their armor melted away and was overcome by intrigue, curiosity, then finally total seduction into the world of erotic abandon. I imagined their fingers touching me, at first cold and full of jangling nerves, then gradually warmer and more adventurous, and finally, perhaps one or two at first then more then all, boldly grasping their own passions as they clutched at and finally possessed me, every inch of me.
My musings were shocked back into reality as I heard the unmistakable sound of voices, many voices. I could hear soft feminine voices, deep, melodious male voices, and several voices with tones that were difficult for my covered ears to clearly place. For an instant, I even had the shocking feeling that I recognized one or two of them, and I felt every inch of my skin turn gloriously red in a full-body blush. Not in shame of my bondage, not in fear of my nudity, but just instinctively as I realized how much this new role would change how I viewed the world and how the world literally viewed me. Was I really ready for all that inescapably lay ahead of me?
Coats were shed, tools were brought forth, order was established, and . . . I was powerless to resist what was now mere seconds away. My captive muscles and limbs involuntarily strained against the unyielding grip of my satin bonds, and I shivered from my toes to my shoulders despite the close, heavy, warm air surrounding me like a protective cocoon. My penis jutted out as if desperately needing to be touched by anyone or anything. I heard Joanna's voice directly in front of me as she called all eyes to witness the formal unveiling and I found myself holding my breath as if about to dive to the bottom of a cool, dark, deep lake.
"Students. I give you . . . your muse!"
The satin slid back, down and away, and . . . .
I was revealed.
More in part three if people like it
story continues in The Art of Silk Surrender 3
o0o