I thought you all might like a nice massage to help get you through the end of the week, so I started digging through some of the first material I ever wrote (never published) and found this little scene I’d like to share with you. 🙂 (And please be gentle! This is unedited, raw footage, folks!)
To give you a little background on the story and this scene, Marcus is a Dominant and has agreed to take on and train feisty graduate student Jade as a submissive in order to help her gain a better understanding of the D/s lifestyle. At this stage of the game, he’s got her face-down, loosely bound to a padded table, and he’s intent on opening her eyes to the possibilities of what pleasure can really mean…
I detect a light scent of coconut before his oiled hands make contact with my shoulders and neck. He melts into my body, skillfully manipulating each muscle and drawing soft whimpers of pleasure from my parted lips.
“Receiving pleasure, just like receiving pain,” he explains, “is a delicate balance. Part of you needs to remain in touch with the source and the placement of the stimulus, while the other part of you needs to relinquish conscious thought and simply absorb pure sensation. It’s a balance of mindfulness and unconsciousness.”
“I’m not sure I understand, Sir,” I manage to mumble through the unmitigated bliss.
“Okay, so right now, you can feel my fingers working their way across your body. Each pressure point is registering on your senses.” He works his thumbs deep into the muscles along my shoulder blades, causing me to sigh wantonly. “Now, without ignoring the sensations I’m eliciting from you, let your mind go and become the pleasure.”
I have no idea how in the hell I’m supposed to do what he’s asking, considering how deep and intense the massage is getting. Leaving one hand resting along my spine, he grabs the bottle and drips a little more oil onto my lower back. He slides his hands over the curves of my hips, back up along my vertebrae, and then down my shoulders. The contact is heavenly. And distracting beyond all measure.
I’ve never been one for mindfulness or meditation and I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know how to focus on Marcus and the massage while simultaneously surrendering to the pleasure itself. But Christ this feels wonderful…
Is he trying to turn me into some sort of hyper-aroused sex monk or something?
“You’re overthinking it and tensing up,” he chides me, sensing my internal monologue through the slight flexing of my muscles. “Don’t worry so much—we’ll work on it. For now, just enjoy the massage.”
Now this I can handle.
After a few more minutes of work on my back, he hops off the side of the table, grabbing the bottle of oil as he goes. Pouring a little more into his hands, he proceeds to massage my extremities, starting with both arms from shoulders to fingertips. Then he moves on to my legs from hips to toes. Lastly, he works on my lower back and my plump rear end. Using just a bit more oil, he kneads my rear end with firm, sensuous strokes. I would probably be more self-conscious about him being near my rear entrance and exposed pussy if I actually gave a damn about anything besides his skilled hands at this point in time. Every single touch feels like heaven.
Alternating between deep squeezes and gentle caresses, he works my backside over more than thoroughly for a good five minutes. And then, without warning, his hands are gone.
I’m too relaxed and pliable to move a muscle, but I perceive unadulterated absence without his hands touching my body. While certainly not painful, it’s the antithesis of pleasure. I want him back but am unable to verbally form the request in the midst of the hedonistic haze that’s clouded my mind.
Just when I’ve convinced myself that he’s left me here to relax and to contemplate the finer points of pleasure, he’s with me again…in a most unexpected way. Without making contact with the rest of my body, he stealthily yet firmly dips two fingers into my pussy.
And I finally understand what he’s been trying to tell me about being present while surrendering to the pleasure.
My whole body trembles uncontrollably, pulling up from the padded table, and a blast of endorphins bombards my system, flooding me with warmth and pleasure. Although his fingers are only contacting one very specific part of my anatomy, every inch of my skin senses the lingering electricity of his touch, the echo of his deep massage. He remains perfectly still inside me, but I can feel myself convulsing around him, tremors racking my restrained body. My breathing becomes uneven. It doesn’t hurt, but the second he starts pumping his fingers inside of me, I release a deep, guttural moan, manifesting my inability to grapple with what I’m feeling.
He presses a third finger into my tight wetness and I perceive an immediate change. My body stills and falls to the table. My mind becomes a flash of white that soon envelops me, while my hands flex and clench at nothingness and my toes curl upon themselves.
I can feel his fingers inside of me, working their way into my depths, but it’s a sensation of being soothed, caressed, quieted, and aroused at the same time. My breathing becomes regular again.
And I’m floating.
I hope you all enjoyed your massage… 😉