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The war escalates.

You do so without looking away, which I softly praise you for. I feel the last traces of your fear disappear. Now I'm no different from any other Mistress you've had, demanding respect, but giving some back too. I lift your shirt off, then instruct you to strip the rest of the way, which you do quickly and without breaking eye contact. No praise this time though, for you already know what is expected.

I am already naked, both to make things easier and because that is something I enjoy being. I toy with the idea of ordering you to kiss my breasts or my feet, for my enjoyment and to confront you with more of my real body, but I decide not to. That's not the purpose of now.

I tell you to look away from me and hang on to that handles on my chair. Not because I need to be pushed, but because I want you to follow. In this way, I lead you to my bedroom. The bed is adjustable height, and right now high enough where I can slightly bend and reach all parts of it from my chair. You also notice that in the appropriate places there are more short lengths of rope, each tied on the end not attached to the bed in a hangman's noose fashion. I feel your shiver. Yes, I remember. Of course I remember.

The next orders for you are to lie down on your back on the bed and make unbreakable eye contact with me again. I guide your arms and feet into their holds by feel alone, seeing nothing but the look on your face, and by that knowing that your body already feels anticipation. You squirm in order to get your body, any part of your body, closer to my hands, but all that does is make it so that there is no possibility of escaping your holds now.

Still not breaking the eye contact yet, I take away your sight with a blindfold. I kiss your lips hard and quickly, sucking in your surprise and rewarding you because I know that under the blinder your eyes are still looking at where my face is. But I break the kiss before you have time to respond. More anticipation, even though you know better then to raise your head to try to chase the kiss.

Now you know how my life is, I whisper deeply into your ear. Inability to move, and not knowing what anyone is going to do next. I look at your body, so gloriously helpless and accessible to me. So beautiful. I don't care that it's male. Beautiful is still the word.

You are breathing hard, not scared, but just waiting. Knowing that you will have to wait longer than you would usually want, I send you energy and breathe myself in very measured breaths, slow and deep, like I do when I'm trying to calm spasms. Shortly, your own breathing matches mine, which makes me dizzy with happiness and my own desire because I know this connection will make your eventual release stronger. So much stronger.

I select from the instruments I have within easy reach. A feather duster first. You flinch when you feel it lightly tracing your chest arms and nipples. I know you don't like this. That's the point. I don't like a lot of things that are done to my body either, and I'm trying to show you part of my experience. You seem to realize this eventually, and relax into it, at first only resigned, but as I persist, grudgingly intrigued and even slightly aroused by the sensation. I know you want harder touches, but you know I know this, and so you know they are coming.

Next I kiss and stuck your nipples gently, but with purpose enough to make them slightly harden.

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