bbbddssmm: You. Over there.

You. Over there. You don't think I can see you, but I know you're there.
Come closer. Come on. Don't be such a baby.
That's better, isn't it? Yes. Take a good long look.
Don't worry. I won't hurt you. How can I? I can't even stop what's happening to me, much less harm you. But what you see frightens you, doesn't it? Yet you're fascinated. You can't stop watching. And yes. Admit it.
You're aroused.
You like to see me this way, an anonymous body, female, bound and put on display. You like this hood that disfigures me, that makes me appear less than human (perhaps more than human in an odd way). You like my fingers taped into my palm, my thumbs strung up. You fasten upon the predicament he's arranged for me. Which torture shall I myself apply?
Should I lower my arms? They ache. They throb. He hoisted them above my head, but he didn't bind them in place, a luxury I would gladly accept at this point. No. He created for me a pivot, a balancing point, attaching the end of the cord to the clamps that gnash and gnaw into my nipples.
When I raise my thumbs higher, the agony of my nipples is eased. But my arms droop as the seconds pass, because gravity has become my enemy, and my arms are losing blood. And my attention spins up and down, back and forth from my nipples to my thumbs, but most of all, back to my cunt, my "nether lips" as they say in all the porn stories that I find somehow hilarious.
I find the stories funny because this is it. What you're seeing is the real thing. And I'm living it.
He squeezed more masticating clamps onto my labia. They are horribly tight, torturously so. To these, he attached my toes, making me arch my feet backward to save myself an increment of agony.
I am off balance. I am reeling from my assorted pains. They grow all at once from a hush into a blood-chilling wash of sound, flushing my skin and muscles with white light. And my mind drops. It plunges like granite into the dark, wet opening of horror, my perfectly erotic dream.
I hear myself cry. Tears wet my cheeks inside this thick leather hood. And I try to stop, because I know this is what he wants, and I don't want to give it to him. But now he's won.
He removes my hood.
I don't look at him. I turn my face to search for you. Go ahead. Look at me. Stare. Eat me up, piece by piece.
After all, that's what you came for. And I. . .well. I got what I wanted.
I have been reminded what it feels like to be alive.