Trust Me

[SurreySub]

“Trust Me” – those two words rung in my ears as the hood was pulled over my head. Simple, easy words to say, and yet so difficult to achieve. And yet, they were an order – my only order.

Could I accomplish that one simple command? Just before you had uttered those words, you’d told me how you were going to make me totally yours. You were going to take total control of me, and do whatever you felt was right for me, or for you. My desires, wishes, fantasies, needs, instincts …. they were now nothing. From that moment on, you controlled me. You would decide my limits. You would choose for me, selecting what would happen, what I would be asked to do.

And I knew that you had become so much more confident and self-assured; more able to listen to yourself, rather than harbour concern for me. Yes, I knew you had your limits, but there had been times when they weren’t aligned with mine. There were times when what gave you pleasure, fed me loathing. Things that amused you, brought horror to me. Things that entertained you, gave rise to fear in me. And then there is the frustration I feel – the annoyance or dissatisfaction of wanting you to do something, to give me what I want, but me not being able to communicate that, or you not choosing to allow it.

So, I stand there nervously awaiting my fate, wondering if I can comply with your words. Can I submit myself to you? Can I defer to you and surrender myself to you? Can I trust you?

Within the hood, I feel separated from the outside world. I feel more aware of myself and my body. I can detect the changes in my body. I’m alert, all my senses attentive and aware. I feel vulnerable, open to attack at any time. My heart is beating fast, and I can feel my muscles tense. And yet, I try to remain still and calm, standing obediently in front of you, waiting…

The gently touch of your fingers against my cock makes me jump. I’m sure it amuses you to see my reaction. You can tell you’ve startled me, frightened me even. Everything is unexpected for me, and you know the power that this gives you. And I know that you feed on that power – I know the effect it has, how it grows inside you, making you more and more confident. I know the excitement it causes inside you.

You grab my cock and pull me forward, using it to lead me and guide me through the house. I feel the warm carpet change to hard tiles as you lead me to the bathroom. You steer me to the bath, making me step into it. You spin me round a few times, and then, through the hood, I hear your words, “Pee, slave”. I instantly feel frustrated and annoyed. You’ve chosen to embarrass me. You know I don’t want to pee in front of you; you know I don’t want to pee in the bath. “Trust me”, the words echo. I take that choice, to trust and obey. I will myself to pee, pushing hard, mentally and physically to overcome my barrier. And finally my pee flows. I feel surprised when it doesn’t hit my legs or feet, and even more surprised, no horrified, when you hold my penis. What are you doing to me? Are you collecting my pee?

And then, when I’m done, you guide me back out of the bath. I’m led forwards by you, and I realise how I have to trust you and rely on you to guide me safely. And still I am nervous, unable to let go of the control, unable to fully believe that I am safe in your hands. And this frustrates me; I feel I’m failing at even a simple task.

You fasten cuffs around my wrists, and then, positioning my hands behind my neck, you clip them together. I stand there, anxious with the uncertainty of what is happening. I suspect you have sensed this, and leave me there for what seems an age, allowing my unease to grow. And then, I feel you pinch my nipple, pulling it away from my chest, and then the cold, bare metal of the clamp being fastened to my chest, first to one nipple and then the other. You tug on the chain, testing the strength of the attachment. Pain shoots through my chest, and I’m annoyed at myself for the gasp I allow to slip out of my mouth; irritated that I’ve revealed my pain to you.

You leave me to deal with my own frustrations, leave me to stand dutifully where you have placed me. I feel the gentle build-up of pain, as the clamps begin to bite. Instantly, I wonder how long I have to endure this. But then I think, ‘I must trust her; trust her to know what length of time is right’. But how can you know, how can you feel the pain I am feeling? How do you know what I can bear? I shift my weight on my feet, exposing the tenderness of my nipples. I try to suck the soreness into my body, away from my chest. And then, I feel small items being added to the chain. I have no idea what you have found, but little by little, the pull of the chain increases against my nipples, and the teeth of the clamps dig deeper. Inside the hood, I close my eyes – pointless, I know – and suck in a deep breath. “Trust me” – I try to; I try to accept that the stinging pain is well within what I can endure. I’ll trust you to know when to stop. Inside my head, I’m suffering, agonising and writhing – silently and without motion.

I’ve tried to keep track of time, wondering how long these clamps have been on. It feels like they have been digging into my skin three or four times as long as they ever have. The pain kept rising and rising, until I thought I could take no more; until I also screamed ‘enough’. But screaming back at me were the words ‘Trust me’. And as I did, the pain seemed to lessen – maybe numbness was setting in, or maybe you’d taught me that I had to trust you that the pain was bearable.

And as I stand there waiting, I feel you remove the items from the chain, slowly reducing the pull on the clamps. I feel you lift the chain away from my chest, and give it a strong, steady pull, tugging my nipples away from my body, driving yet more pain through me. I feel like I could collapse, and then you remove the clamps from my nipples, and a fresh, intense pain shoots through my chest. I cry inside the hood, as the agony slowly subsides.

You lead me over to the bed, and direct me to lie down. It’s difficult with my hands still fastened behind my head, and again, I realise I have to trust you to guide me. As I lie there, I feel relieved – able to relax for a few moments and regain my strength. My nipples still burn from the lingering pain, but I enjoy the opportunity to be calm and allow the tension to flow out of me.

Eventually, you roll me over onto my front, easing my legs apart slightly. It feels comfortable, and I begin to relax some more. But then I feel the swish of the flogger as it hits my arse. You’re striking it gently, but steadily, building up a rhythm. At first it feels like you’re brushing my skin, gently teasing it. I feel you move the strokes up my back and across my shoulders. The rhythm is hypnotic, but every so often you land a slightly harder blow, catching me unawares.

And then you stop, allowing you to swiftly push the penis gag into my mouth and fasten it tightly around my head. Once again the flogger skims across my naked skin; thwack, thwack, thwack. The continued blows begin to inflame my skin, and I can imagine its colour turning a deeper shade of red with every strike. Each and every time the thongs of the flogger beat against my skin, the worse the soreness gets. Each strike on their own would be bearable, but the unrelenting whacks have a cumulative effect, multiplying their impact.

I begin to squirm on the bed as each swing of the flogger hits the mark, but this doesn’t seem to affect you in any way. Again it becomes clear that you have set a limit, and no amount of protest from me will deflect you. “Trust me”, the command echoes again. My mind is playing games, and I imagine the rhythm of the chant you are playing out across my skin: “Trust me slave, trust me slave, trust me slave”.

I focus on the song, making it a welcome diversion from the growing pain – the pain that is quickly becoming intolerable. I suck hard on the penis gag, using it to cushion the agony. The thought shocks me: I’m getting comfort from the cock in my mouth.

And then, abruptly, an uncompromising and brutal blow lands across my arse. I jump in pain, rolling from side to side, recovering only enough to realise that no further blows are falling. Silently, I plead for it to be the final one. Exhausted, I lie still on the bed, panting to catch my breath as much as the gag and hood will let me.

With a great sense of relief, I feel you unclip my hands and I welcome the chance to stretch my muscles and chance their position, allowing my blood to circulate freely.

You roll me onto my back, still sore and red; and yet, it seems more comfortable to be lying face up, and I try to relax some more. You pull the gag from my mouth, and I appreciate the fresh air that flows into my lungs.

I’m soon pulled out of my restful state, and dragged to my feet. You pull me across the room and through the doorway; eventually I feel cold, hard tiles under my feet. I’m pushed down on my knees, and soon feel something pushing against my mouth.

Instinctively I open my lips, and the rubber cock of your strap-on quickly fills my mouth. But it doesn’t hesitate; you grab my head and thrust your hips towards it, forcing your cock deep into my mouth and down my throat. Surprised by this suddenly invasion of my mouth, I gag but you keep pressing forward, forcing your cock further down my throat. I can feel my throat convulse as the gag reflex hits. Phlegm and saliva rises in my throat and I try to pull away. But you’ve got a firm grip on my head, and you hold me so my lips are pressing against your body. “Trust me”, I remember, as I force my body to remain calm, and struggle to overcome the natural gagging reaction. I force my throat open, and allow the cock to rest in it as much as possible.

Soon, you’ve pulled the cock out of my mouth, and I gasp for air. Saliva runs down my chin and I feel a mess. But then I feel the cock push against my mouth again. I’ve hardly had chance to catch my breath as it enters me. This time you push forward slowly, painfully slowly. Little by little the cock slides into my mouth. Suddenly I’m glad of all the saliva, as it lubricates my throat. Deeper you push, and I have to fight to remain in control of my fears – physical and mental. I force my mind to relax, to push back the worries that I’ll gag again, the fears that I’ll choke and be sick. And physically, I work to overcome the natural reaction to eject the object in my mouth. You’re deliberately taking your time, knowing that this task is so much more difficult. And again I realise that I have to trust you – trust you that you will allow me to breathe when I need to, allow me to prevent myself from being sick. But will you? I suddenly realise that I just don’t know, and that I do indeed need to trust you.

Eventually, your cock has filled my throat again. I concentrate on breathing through my nose, trying not to succumb to the heaving feelings in my throat. Thankfully, you soon pull the cock out of me, but fear still remains. I realise that I am at your mercy, and I have no idea what you will do with me, and how long I will need to endure this ordeal.

You push me forward, tipping me on my knees so my hands hit the floor. You kick my legs apart and position yourself behind me. Soon your cock, covered in my saliva, is pressing against my arse. I relax as best I can, knowing that resistance could be painful. You press harder and your cock enters me. I will myself to stay calm and fight the desire to tense my muscles. You begin to rock backwards and forwards, fucking my arse. I can feel the length of your cock slide in and out of me, banging hard deep inside me. I feel ‘taken’ – you are dominating every part of my body. And I realise it’s not a simple task to just give it to you – it takes effort and determination on my part. And it takes trust … damn, that word keeps coming back to torment me.

Finally, when I’m on the brink of cumming from the pleasure your cock is giving my arse, you pull out. I feel frustrated – left hanging and unfulfilled. You push me down onto the floor, rolling me on my back. And then I feel your wetness as you plant your pussy on my face. Your juices flow into my mouth as I lick and suck at your pussy. You grind hard against my face, obviously enjoying the sensations hitting your body. Once again I struggle to breathe. You’ve pushed your weight against me, cutting off my supply of air. I suck hard on your pussy, as if it will provide me with the source of air I need. I feel your sweet juices hit the back of my throat, and I lie motionless, trying not to exhaust the supply of air in my lungs. You continue to press down on my face, suffocating me. Slowly, my lungs begin to burn as my body demands more air. I can feel myself get lightheaded and slightly panicky, fighting the temptation to push you off me. I want to trust you; to believe that you will know when to let me breathe. I try to relax, and to surrender to you. Finally, as I almost drift off, you lift off my face and I suck air deep into my lungs.

I’m exhausted, and I lie motionless on the floor. You leave me, lying there, giving me time to recover before you return to release me from the hood. My ordeal is over but the question remains – can I trust you?

The End