The Art of Silk Surrender- Part 7
In part six, I was left in class, locked into Joanna’s custom rack, fully stretched out naked, and covered up with the familiar satin sheet, awaiting the arrival of the students themselves. All this was becoming a routine for me, with the addition of much more stress on my body as I was fully taut from ankles to wrists, but with the one life-altering addition of having a companion in bondage. The most stunningly beautiful woman I have ever seen was strapped naked to a post on the platform next to me, and we awaited the coming ordeal fully aware of each other’s presence. This heightened every sensation in my body, every thought in my brain, as I began to realize my emotions were now in play as well as my physical exposure and submission. The Angel Aurora was a part of my suffering, a part of my nakedness, a part of my heart and a part, an astonishingly rich and profound part, of my soul. These realizations were as inescapable to me now as my being locked into the high-tech, satin-padded torture device.
The pain in my shoulders was very different and much more intense than the strain I had felt the week before in the standing spread eagle. I lay there trying not to face the fact that, with another slight twist of the wheel, I was incapable of escaping the possibility of real injury. I was not under stress; I was actually hurting. The tops of my feet were jammed against the slots holding my ankles fast, and I was soberly grateful for the silk padding. I could only imagine what it was like for someone in bare, metal cuffs and chains in the same position. I shuddered at the thought, feeling oddly chilled despite the thickening coating of perspiration covering me from fingertips to toes.
I let my thoughts drift back to Aurora, and I tried to console myself in the fact that I was the one who was suffering the worst. I had been in the position she was now in, strapped firmly to the padded post, and had found it actually quite comfortable and even, dare I say, cozy. I felt I was in some way protecting her from the pain of the rack by being the one forced to undergo its merciless process. This was small comfort, but I latched onto it, and it allowed me to strengthen my resolve to face my fate with dignity and courage.
My breath deepened and slowed, as I tried to focus my thoughts on breathing in strength and exhaling out fear. I tried to consciously sink myself back into my memories of sub-space from the previous class, and it was beginning to work at last. I felt myself beginning to detach myself from the pain in my joints, and let the agony melt into a wash of heat coursing through my body as pure sensation. I could hear the activity in the room outside my silk-draped prison, and sank further into the abandonment in the sea of sensuality. I began to actually long for the silk to be torn back so I could reach out and share the experience of pure, transcendent surrender with the entire group assembling around us.
But, mostly, I thought of Aurora. I longed to be with her. I craved the sensation of our bodies, skin to skin, heart to heart, muscles intertwining in a joyously erotic communion. It ceased to matter to me if we were bound or “free”. I only wanted to share with her every atom of my being in total abandonment to the pleasures of our moment. It made no difference how, or under what conditions. I wanted her, and I knew in my soul that she wanted me just as desperately.
Finally, I heard Joanna’s voice, and I tried to rise up out of the depths of my reverie to hear her presentation to the students, craving any slightest clue to the specific fate which awaited me. Surely she would not have them actually torture me. Surely not. My arms, my hips, my spine, my ankles were already consumed in paradoxically cold pools of fire.
And yet . . . where else was this leading, except to that very destination? I shuddered violently against the device just as I felt the sheet quickly cast off, and I was once again revealed to the artists in all my naked, helpless abandon. Despite all, I felt my cock beginning to rise in passion, and realized that Joanna must have purposefully dragged the satin covering across my groin to help stimulate me to this. I tried to pull up and twist my head around any which way, instinctively trying to visually orient myself, regardless of the fact I was quite securely blindfolded.
She spoke. Her voice penetrated through my desperate fog like the inspiration of an angel. “Class. Your muse. Tonight, he has offered himself to you in pure sacrifice. I assure you all, the device is exactly what it appears to be. And, as you can see, he is stretched tightly past the point of erotic discomfort. He is at risk. He has been taken to the brink of what can only be called true peril. And for what? What is at stake? The answer . . . the answer lies under the second drapery.”
I felt more than heard the satin sheet being slid off Aurora, and there was a wave of shock through the students stronger than I had ever felt in any moment since the beginning. Were they surprised at her presence? Was it her glorious, heavenly beauty, revealed in all its divine nakedness? Was it the fact of there now being two bound, naked souls presented for their use? I’m sure it was all of these together, and probably more I couldn’t imagine as I lay trapped in my own dark, tortured surrender. Had they, every single one, fallen desperately in love with her, just as I had mere moments before?
In love, surely. As I had, most definitely not. I felt my bond with Aurora stronger and stronger with each throbbing heartbeat, each passing breath. What she and I had already, without having ever even exchanged a single word, a single caress, was pure magic. I knew it, and I knew she knew it too.
Joanna continued. “Yes. There are two. Class, you have a new challenge. Dynamics. Two subjects. A story. A plot. Tension and release of an entirely different sort. One in peril, one awaiting . . . what? And, why? Begin drawing, Class. Draw. Draw what you see and draw what you feel. Let the story unfold before your eyes. Let your hands tell you the truth of this moment, the story of these two souls in this extreme state of pure sensation. Don’t impose your first idea. Let the deeper story, the deeper understanding emerge in your work. They are helpless to tell their story themselves. It’s up to you! Help them. Release their souls into your hands, into your art! Draw. Draw!”
I could feel the drama in the air. As the students began to draw, Joanna fell silent, and there was a stillness in the studio I had never felt before. The students had apparently taken some quantum leap forward into a comfort, a security with the process of their education, and were surrendering themselves deeper into the whole experience, paralleling my own immersion further and further into the realms of erotic submission and sensation.
I felt Joanna hovering around me, circling me, stimulating my imagination of her as my guardian angel and my supreme tormenter in alternating flashes. I sensed her pause at the top end of the rack, and felt a sudden shock of terror as I heard the wheel creak ever so slightly as she contemplated giving it another agonizing turn. I tried to focus on my screaming joints as if to give them an extra burst of strength and flexibility to handle what was to come . . . and then, she moved away again, and I was able to slowly exhale in relief.
I felt her move toward Aurora, and tried to imagine what she might be doing to my better half on the other platform. I wanted suddenly to be some superhuman hero with strength enough to burst from my terrible enslavement and leap to her side. I strained mightily at the cuffs holding my wrists so tightly above my head, but there was not the tiniest bit of give at all. I was trapped. I was helpless. And Aurora needed me. She needed me. Let me up! Let me out of this! My Aurora needs me. I sank back in the satin padding, defeated.
Joanna spoke again. “Now, Class. Group One. Move in and begin your tactile explorations. Touch them. Both of them. Don’t interfere with each other, but be aware that you are now working as a group to get to the heart of the truth of these two imprisoned spirits. Do you need to stimulate them? Do you need to heighten his suffering? Cause and effect. Cause and effect. You must live with the outcome, just as they must. There is no going back. Touch them, and . . . understand. The rest of you, draw it. The air is so thick with possibilities, with danger, with feelings, with naked, helpless reality. Put it there from your hands to the page. Draw.”
Another escalation. I felt perhaps a quarter of the class moving forward, full of nerves, toward our bound bodies. My first thought was of someone not realizing how tightly I was already stretched. What if they just cut loose and gave the wheel one big turn, just to . . . see? I had seen people on racks in movies, and the thought curdled my blood to a thick, cold stew. I was prepared to trust Joanna’s skill at bringing me to the edge of true pain, but . . . who were these people, and just what might they be prepared to do to me?
But, as the forms hovered around me out of the darkness, and I felt the initial, timid fingers begin to caress my naked flesh, my thoughts turned to Aurora. What would they do to her? Instinctively, I felt they would be much more comfortable touching a beautiful woman than they had been to explore my male parts. Perhaps because we’ve all been conditioned to see much more female nudity than male. But, I wanted to be there for her. I wanted, not to prevent her from being touched, not to defend her, but to supervise them. I wanted to be there to direct and conduct their work, so that she derived the maximum pleasure from it all, and that the millisecond that she was in any discomfort, I could be there to stop, to redirect, to educate.
Hands, many hands, soft, feminine fingers and coarser male ones were all over my body, but I barely noticed. It was as if I had actually been able to leave my own body, and position myself on the other platform next to Aurora. My own fate was irrelevant. I was there for her. And I was.
Fingers gripped my rising, stiffening penis, and it didn’t matter to me. Let them touch me. Let them caress me. Let them do whatever they want to me. Let them . . .
Suddenly, it was all exploded. Someone had turned the wheel! I felt my soul literally crash back into my own body as pain, sheer fiery agony, tore through my shoulders and exploded my ankles in white hot flame. I gasped for breath against the shock of the pain of a dozen dagger blows in every major joint. My hips fought against the restraining bar holding them fast. The fingers gripped my cock tighter as if in as much shock as I was, and it only added to the confused wave of chaotic sensations crashing through me in every way. Was this to be the way I would have my first public ejaculation, my first orgasm on display in front of total strangers? Bound to a rack, as my shoulders and hips exploded in agony? I screamed silently into the packing of my gag. No!! No!! Not like this!
I fought back the rising wave toward orgasm, and at last won the battle. The urge subsided, and the fingers fell short of actually pumping my cock, then let go and moved on their way. I felt a tiny bubble of pre-cum at the top of my straining penis, but the main explosion was not to burst forth. Hands danced all over my body, in a desperate attempt to feel a tiny bit of the intensity of the sensations that had every cell of my body on fire. I thought I heard Aurora moaning into her gag as well, but it was as if it was very, very far away through a hundred feet of water, not fifteen feet of classroom air.
At last, Joanna called time, and the groups switched off. I sank back into the bed of the rack, and felt my only salvation was to dive head first into the ocean of sub-space and not come up until it was all over. Recalling the feeling, I let myself sink and expand, and the rising familiarity with that safe zone of pure sensation overtook me again. Again, and even deeper. I surrendered myself to the transcendent sensory overload, and let the ordeal proceed as if letting a cold, wintry wind pass right through me without allowing my brain to interpret it as a bad thing. Senses, nothing but pure, non-judgmental senses.
Hands touched me, hands explored me, hands felt my pleasure, hands brushed against and communed with my pain. On and on it went, until at last, it was over. Joanna summed up, congratulated the class on a job done at a level of excellence even she had not anticipated, and the room was filled with the sounds of leave-taking.
At last, Joanna was at my side again, and I felt the rack spit me out, still in one piece. She released the gear on the wheel, and all the tension suddenly disappeared. My arms sank, exhausted, onto the satin bed of the rack over my head, and I instantly began to rotate my shoulders to see if they still functioned normally. There was some pain, but it all seemed to work right.
I felt her soft, confident fingers on my face, and for once she removed my blindfold at the very beginning of my release. As the silk slid from across my eyes, my vision cleared to see her radiant smile beaming down at me. She bent down, gave me a sweet, tender kiss in the middle of my forehead, letting her satin tresses spill all across my face and shoulders. Rising again, my eyes followed her fingers as she pulled a tiny gold key that had been nestling between her luscious, satin covered breasts, suspended from a delicate golden chain around her neck. She moved up and used the key to unlock each of my wrists in turn, and slowly helped each of my arms out and down, sensitively helping me regain the use of my tormented upper limbs.
Moving to the waist bar, she unlocked it and left it resting loose across my pelvis. Next, she popped the lock off the foot board, and helped me ease my ankles out of their evening’s prison. Still gagged and naked, but now otherwise free, she helped me sit up groggily, and wrapped her arms around my nude torso, enveloping me in a nurturing, perfumed embrace of silk, flowing hair and soft, tender skin. As I allowed her strong, dominating presence to overwhelm me with her loving support and gratitude for my hard work, I managed to clear my head enough to gaze over her shoulder and see Aurora’s bound body still straining against the satin padded post on the second platform.
I was in pure bliss. In the arms of my mentor/mistress, gazing at my dearest angel. Was there more to life than this? At that moment, I didn’t care to even imagine.
Finally, Joanna pulled back from me, and realized I was staring at Aurora, still blindfolded and wiggling, squirming against her satin bonds. She gave me the sweetest smile, and spoke at last. “I have to leave early. Can I trust you to release your partner, and lock the door on your way out?”
Still firmly gagged, I gazed into her eyes a moment, and realized the door she was opening for me, for Aurora and me. Slowly, gratefully, full of love and warmth, I nodded.
“Fine. I’ll see you both next week, then.” She cupped my face tenderly as she always did, and let her hand float down my naked chest as she pushed herself silently away and turned to go out. I watched her silken form glide out into the lobby, and heard the front door open and shut. And then there was silence.
I turned and drank in the beauty that was Aurora. Slowly, focused completely on the love pouring, bursting from my chest, I reached up and unfastened the over-gag, and pulled the packing from inside my mouth. Rotating my shoulders a few more times to adjust to the mild ache that still warmed them, I noted to myself that they would probably hurt a lot more in the morning.
And then, it was time. I eased my feet to the floor, and rose unsteadily to more or less vertical. Approaching the second platform as if worried about spooking a pretty deer in the forest, I moved toward her and stepped up on the soft satin to be at her side.
Not sure at all how to start or what to do, I managed to lean in and whisper ever so softly into her right ear. “May I touch you?”
Despite the full over-the-mouth gagging, I was sure her face broke into a warm, blissful smile. She nodded her head eagerly, and I marveled at the fine satin waves of her gloriously long black hair as it captured the light and exploded it back out in astonishing patterns of glowing and flickering radiance.
I reached out my fingers, and began tenderly caressing her magnificently soft yet firm breasts. Her nipples instantly responded by hardening and rising slightly, and a soft moan of pure pleasure purred through the silk across her mouth. I let my hands dance across her skin, and realized it was every bit as soft and smooth as it had first appeared to be when she was so unexpectedly revealed to me some hours before. With rising passion, I caressed and stimulated her, and her body began openly writhing against the restraints holding her fast against the soft, padded post.
“Do you want me to take off your blindfold, or your gag?” She shook her head with astonishing energy that she was quite happy as she was. Overwhelming myself with the heat of our communion, I knelt down and wrapped my arms around her soft hips, drawing my naked body into her tighter and tighter. Our skin against skin was amazing to feel, and I found myself kissing her hips and thighs with rising passion.
“May I . . .” She was nodding as hard as she could before I could even get the words out. Despite her legs being so firmly lashed together, I was able to push my tongue into her softest, warmest haven, just below the silky, neatly trimmed patch of hair pointing the way. My tongue reached deep inside, and after a moment of blind searching, it found her already swollen clit. Her whole body shuddered instantly, and I began to kiss and lick and probe while running my hands all over her legs and hips. It was hard to raise my arms all the way to her breasts due to the pain in my shoulders, but I managed it every so often, and felt her entire soft, toned, muscled body buck and strain harder and harder against the silk sashes holding her solidly in place.
At last, she exploded in a wave of passion that I had never felt in a woman before. She roared and moaned and screamed into the silk filling her mouth, and I felt wave after wave crash through her bound body, in flood after flood of ecstasy. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face into her soft, welcoming skin, and hugged and hugged her until the passion finally ran its course. A sigh washed through her entire body finally, and I distinctly heard the most musical giggle of pure satisfaction waft down at my welcoming ears from above my head.
She sank into her bonds, totally spent, and I slowly rose to my feet once more, and embraced her chest to chest. I began planting soft kisses all over the exposed parts of her face, and she sighed again and again in utter joy. I let my fingers dance through her hair, and marveled at how it was even silkier than the waves of satin all around us.
After a long moment of total silence, I reached up and released the knot on her blindfold, and her eyes were revealed again at last. Our gazes locked on each other, and we literally melted into one another for a long, timeless communion. I unfastened her gag, let it fall to the platform, and removed the packing from her mouth. She instinctively worked her jaw a moment to relieve the strain of having been gagged for so many hours, then started to speak. I pressed my finger to her lips, and she relented. I moved in and we kissed lips for the first time, and it was absolutely electric. I hugged her deeper as our lips and tongues ate at each other hungrily, then we finally relaxed into a soft, long, warm kiss that had us feeling as if we were actually melting into each other.
Tearing myself away at last, I forced myself to move around the post and began to carefully release her from her bonds. Sash after sash slid to the platform and collected at her magnificent feet, and she stood there patiently, silently, waiting for her freedom. I was down to the last tie, the one binding her wrists together, and paused a moment, realizing that as it fell, our lives would be changed forever. We would be free, and we would be together.
The sash fell, and it was done. Aurora barely waited for the silk to hit the floor before springing into my arms, and hungrily letting her liberated limbs explore my naked body as I had already communed with hers.
We embraced and kissed again, as if meeting the other half of ourselves having been held apart for centuries of agonized isolation. On and on, we touched and caressed and shared ourselves, our naked passion, our utter surrender to the truth of our love.
“Come home with me,” I blurted out. She took my face in her strong, tender hands, and smiled from a place deep, deep inside herself. “Always,” she purred.
I laughed in pure delight, and then looked at the pile of fabric at our feet. “We should clean up first.” She immediately sprang into action. Scooping up the sashes, she scampered across to the supply closet, and quickly began to put things away, with a combination of speed and care that left me marveling at her. Getting a chance to admire her backside really for the first time, I can only say it was as magnificent as every other bit of her.
I retrieved the sashes from my ordeal on the rack, taking only a quick moment to imagine what I must have looked like all stretched out in its unforgiving clutches, and then joined Aurora at the closet. She took the other sashes from me, and finished putting everything away. As she did, my eyes fell upon the green nightgown my fingers had discovered the previous week, and I couldn’t help gazing at it for an extra beat or two.
This did not escape Aurora’s attention, and she smiled a devilish grin and pulled it out. “Joanna told me you fancied this. Shall I try it on for you?” I hesitated just a millisecond too long, and she laughed in delight.
She commanded. “I have a better idea. Raise your arms up.” I gingerly extended my sore arms into the air above my head. In a flash, she had gathered up the gown, raised it up, and slipped it over my extended arms. Before I realized it, the luxurious silk charmeuse was falling down over my naked body, and I was suddenly wearing it.
Aurora stood back and admired her handiwork. “You are absolutely beautiful. Oh, don’t be embarrassed. A man can be beautiful. Everybody said your penis is so pretty, and it surely is, but I’m just astonished at the whole package. You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen, and I can’t imagine wanting you more any other way. Go ahead, model it for me.”
Completely at sea, shocked at her wild exhortations, and yet very stimulated with the soft, flowing garment caressing my naked skin under the adoring gaze of this naked, glorious angel, I, without thinking, took a step back and performed a tentative spin for her. “Like it?” I blurted out again.
“It’s lovely on you. We’ll have to get you one for your own wardrobe.” She beamed at me, sharing my delight at being clad in the glorious gown.
Without hesitating a second, I proudly confided my secret. “Oh, I just went shopping yesterday and got some really nice gowns and a couple of robes.” “No, really?” she convulsed in mock surprise. “Yes! In fact, I started wearing silk camisoles under my shirts. Want to see the one I wore to the studio today?”
“Of course I do, Silly.” She grabbed my hand and we danced across the studio expanse toward the dressing room where my regular clothes still waited. What a sight we were, the gloriously naked Oriental Amazon Aurora, and me in my silk gown wafting and fluttering around me, otherwise as naked as she.
We got to my clothes, and she grabbed at the pile until my blue cami fell out into her impatient fingers. She held it up against the top of my gown, and smiled broadly. “I love it. Let me see it on you. Here.”
Her fingers swept the gown up and over my head and off me again, and she quickly replaced it with my blue cami top. Her fingers smoothed and adjusted it to my torso, and she giggled at how it just caressed the top of my very hard, apparently still very pretty, penis. She turned me around and around, and seemed more delighted with every different angle. “My Love, you were born to wear silk. Just born to it.”
I smiled sheepishly, finally overcome with the embarrassment I had been too stunned to acknowledge. She took up the gown I had been wearing just seconds before, and slipped her own body into it. My jaw must have dropped in shocked wonderment, because she spun and twirled joyously in the confines of the dressing room, delighting in the feel of the garment on her own skin, and in the obvious pleasure I got from seeing her in it.
“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in all my existence.” I couldn’t imagine a sight more lovely, more erotic, more inspiring, more . . .
She actually blushed at the depth of my feelings, and then she scampered back out of the dressing room, calling back to me. “First one ready to go gets tied up first when we get home!” I paused a surprised moment as I digested what she had just said, then immediately sprang into action, hoping I would be the lucky victim. Laughing at how easily I had become comfortable with my desire for bondage, I began dragging on my clothes, still managing to take a second to savor the whole evening’s experiences.
Tortured? Oh, yes, I had indeed been tortured. My shoulders were already hot and complaining about their ordeal, and I knew the worst was yet to come in the soreness department. But, I would have done it again a hundred times over for the chance to feel what I was feeling for this magnificent angel who had been given to me as my reward.
I dragged on my shoes and socks, and bustled out of the dressing room. “Ready!” I called out victoriously. “You have to tie me up first!”
She emerged from a second dressing room in a beautiful burgundy satin blouse and tight leather pants. Her proud nipples poked at their silk covering, clearly unencumbered by underclothing of any kind. Her leather ankle boots had about four inch heels on them, which actually made her taller than I was. The soft green gown was draped over her forearm, ready to be returned to its place in the closet. She smiled that devilish grin at me one more time, a smile full of mischief and love in equal measure.
“I think that can be arranged, my beautiful boy.”
She put the gown away, gave me a big hug and the sweetest kiss, then unbuttoned my shirt and dragged it open to expose a sliver of the deep blue silk underneath it. “Much better. Much, much better.”
My eyes wide as I digested the fact that she expected me to leave my secret partly exposed like this as we went out in public, I let her slip her arm into mine, and, after making sure the studio was well locked behind us, we walked out into the night.
Together.
story continues in The Art of Silk Surrender 8
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