I know I said I like seeing and I do but sometimes I think about what it would be like to not see what you are doing and the idea intrigues me.
I like being able to watch your hands on me or see out of the corner of my eye the rise of your arm as you lift the flogger or whip in preparation to bring it down hard and sharp on my bare flesh. I love watching you unbuckle your belt and opening your trousers. I fucking love seeing your hand on your cock and the thought of watching your fingers pushing into my cunt makes me whimper with desire.
But what if I couldn’t see?
What if you stole my sight by putting that lovely fur lined blindfold we have over my eyes?
The whip makes such a distinctive sound, a soft whoosh that announces its touch mere moments before I feel it. There would be no more bracing myself for its fall, no more attempts to anticipate its bite. I would be blind to your moves.
If I close my eyes now I can hear the noise the belt makes, the little clink as you undo the buckle followed by the unmistakable sound of it gliding round your waist and out through the belt loops on your jeans.
When your hands touch me would I feel them more, my skin taking up the slack from my darkened eyes, would I twitch at your touch as my body responds to the warmth of your hands? I can’t twist or turn my body to meet or invite your touch when I can’t see you, without my eyes I can only respond when you close the gap between us or ache for your touch when you choose to withhold it.
Without my eyes I can’t watch you as you push your face between my thighs or slide your fingers into my wetness. I can feel you, I can hear you, I can smell the heady mixture of our scents the fill the room, I can even reach down and trace my fingers over your hand and follow your fingers as they disappear into me but what I can’t do is see. In this darkness you have created for me I can only feel and respond. I am freed from the knowledge of what is about to come and forced to focus in other ways.
I know I say I love seeing and I do, I love watching you, I love seeing us but maybe, sometimes, I think about you denying me that pleasure, ignoring my protests and pleas to be allowed to see and taking my sight from me anyway. Maybe it will remind me why I prefer to see. There is every chance that afterwards I will remember why it is that I say I prefer to see or maybe I won’t. However there is only one way to find out