Dear Diary 7_20

Tuesday, July 20th, 2010

Dear Diary,

I need to tell you about the bizarre dream I had last night.

I don't remember how I came to be standing in front of it; I just know that I'm knocking at a door. As the door creaks open I feel myself being drawn inside. I enter a room and am struck by how dark my surroundings are. I strain to make out the layout or the contents. Before my eyes can adjust, the door I entered through shuts, sealing out what small amount of light that existed. I feel a presence behind me. I want to turn around, but something inside of me tells me to stay. I stand here, waiting. I don't know what it is I'm waiting for. I just know, somehow, I'm supposed to wait there. My heart is pumping in my ears and goose bumps are forming all over my body. I'm telling myself to relax, that there's no danger. But I have no way of knowing if I'm right. My entire being seems to be tingling in anticipation of something. But what? Just as my mind is completing the thought I hear something, someone, approaching me. This whole time standing here I've forgotten about the door. Who opened it? Am I about to find out? I realize I'm holding my breath. Oh the sweet agony of the wait.

I hear it now, that voice. That voice I dream of so often. The voice I used to get lost in as it told me such wonderfully naughty things late at night on the phone. He used to call, used to. But that was then. I haven't heard from him in months, yet here he is again. Damn him! I think of all the things I want to do, to experience at least once in my life. I thought I'd found someone who understood, who 'got' me. I guess that was a dream also.

'I'm sorry.' He whispers. 'I want to make it up to you, if you'll allow me. You may turn and leave now, if you wish, or stay and say nothing.'

I'm a nervous wreck now. What does he mean he's going to make it up to me? How? What does he have planned? A part of me wants to turn and walk out. I need to leave, to end this now. I can't. The images, the thoughts, all of my hidden fantasies are now, somehow, fused with that voice. I lose the battle, I stay. I need more.

A blindfold, yes! I feel the cool touch of the satin against my eyes now. He leans in as he ties the knot. I hear his voice telling me to trust him. Trust him? A cruel joke my mind conjures up to remind me that this is, after all, just a dream. The past doesn't exist here, only the here, only now.

'Drop your things' he tells me. Until now I hadn't realized I'd been carrying my purse and the bag. He takes my hand and leads me further into the room. When he stops, I stop. Turning me slightly he tells me to sit. I don't question, I do as I'm told. I find myself needing to do as I'm told.

'I see you've brought the bag.' Yes, the bag. So many of my most intimate thoughts and dreams center around that bag. Of course the bag is with me.

I can hear my keys rattle. He's busying himself with finding the one that opens the small padlock. The padlock locks my secrets away within that small black bag. I hear the teeth of the zipper as he is opening up my secrets, my 'Pandora's box'. The blood is pumping faster now throughout my body. The sound of metal clanging fills my ears as he pulls out each item. Can I do this? Can I sit here and allow him to do the things I long for him to do to me? I can't move. I don't want to move.

I feel my leg being lifted. My shoe is slipped off. Now the soft underbelly of the cuffs is against my ankle. He buckles it on and moves to the other leg. When he finishes the last leg I feel his touch on the back of my hands that I have neatly placed on each knee. I surrender them both to him and allow him to finish placing the other two cuffs around my wrists. Next is the collar. As he lifts my hair to fasten it around my throat I can smell the leather it's made from. Just the small and feel of all this causes me to feel electrified. I feel the want building up now. My nipples tingle beneath my t-shirt. My whole body is screaming to be touched now, but he's moved away. I'm left with this hunger. I know he's teasing me, building my desire for what he has planned next.

I don't have to wait long. He's taking my hand now. But he doesn't lead me anywhere. Instead he tells me to get down on my knees. As I kneel before him I feel him attaching something to the ring on my collar. How far is he willing to take this? How far am I willing to follow him? I hear him pick up my bag. As he tugs on the collar I instinctively go down on all fours and crawl toward wherever it is he, and the leash he's just put me on, are taking me.

I sense that we've entered another room now. The temperature is cooler and I hear the hum of a fan of in the distance. He stops and I stop beside him. I want to speak, to ask him what his plans are. But I know that I'm to remain quiet. A tug on the leash lets me know I'm to stand now. As I raise myself up I reach out to steady myself. For the first time my hand briefly touches him before he pulls away. I want to touch, to feel him. My hands love exploring his body. There's just something so erotic about the feel of skin on your fingertips. There are so many different feelings, depending on where you touch. The roughness of stubble on a man's face, the tough, thick skin of his palms, the soft, smooth feel of his manhood, there are just so many textures of skin to explore.

As I stand there I hear the bag drop onto what I can only assume is a bed. Again I hear rattling of metal as he busies himself with my things, my toys. An appropriate description considering we long ago named our time together as 'playtime'. I miss those times.

Suddenly I'm being lifted off of my feet, carried and dropped upon a bed. I struggle to get back up, knowing he'll push me back but knowing I'll get to feel his touch. He's straddling me now, holding my wrists down on the pillow. Taking my right arm, he brings it down to tuck it firmly between my hip and his thigh. With one of his free hands he holds my left arm in place as his other grasps the end of one of the leather straps he'd removed from my bag and fastened to the bed after we entered the room. I hear the click. It's done. As he sits upright again I can sense that he's watching me. Watching me tug at the strap as if there's a chance it will give way. We both know it will not. His hand is around my right wrist now. I'm trying to resist. I don't want this. I do want this. Why him? I want to trust him, to let him take me all of the places I want to go. No, not anymore I don't. I wanted this, but now I want to be free. Free of the thoughts in my head, free of that voice I hear at night. But that's my brain talking. My body says yes. My skin screams out for this. I can feel myself getting excited. What kind of person dreams these dreams? What kind of person has thoughts like this? I gather all the strength I can find and try one more time to rebuff his efforts. This time my resistance is met with a stern reprimand. 'Don't fight me' he says, 'this is what you've wanted and I want to give it to you.' As soon as the words roll of his tongue, as soon as I hear that baritone voice above me, I know I've lost the battle. I can hear the click as the second strap is attached to the ring on my right wrist cuff. It's done. Any chance I had to spurn him, to rebuke his actions is gone. My legs are kicking in a half-hearted attempt to avoid his grasp. I know I can't stop this now. The final two rings at each ankle are now hooked. I'm immobilized, vulnerable. Waiting for what's to come.

A drawer is sliding open. What is it he's rooting around for? I now feel something cold on my thigh and his hands grabbing a leg of my shorts. The coolness is moving upward now. I hear the sound of metal scraping against metal. I recognize that sound. Scissors? Just as the thought comes, so does the telltale sound of material being cut. First the right leg, then the left is sliced up through the waistband. A quick tug and the shorts lie somewhere across the room. I'm trying to pull my legs together, but the restraints won't allow it. What next? As if I don't already have more than a few scenarios running through my head.

Wait! The bed is shifting. He's gotten up. I hear his steps moving around the room. I don't know what he's up to now. I can feel a breeze blowing across my body now. He's turned the fan toward the bed. But now the sound of the blades slicing through the air muffles the sound of his movement in the room. I've lost track of him. Damn this blindfold!

Hands grab at my t-shirt and I hear the fabric being ripped apart. I can't help but emit a small scream from the shock. 'I see you aren't going to be quiet' he chuckles. 'Perhaps you need to be gagged?' 'No! I'll be good.' I plead. Too late, he's already placing the ball into my mouth. As he lifts my head to buckle it in place he whispers softly into my ear. 'Promise to behave and I might just reward you by removing this later.'

God, that voice, it won't leave my head. Even now, as I retell this, dream diary, I can hear that voice as if it's in the room with me.

He's busying himself again. This time, cutting what remains of my shirt so that he can discard the remnants as he did the shorts. I'm down to just my bra and panties. I know they'll be the next victims of this scissor-happy demon. Again I feel the cold, hard metal against my thigh. This time it moves higher to it's mark. A quick few snips and away go what was left of my clothing. I'm naked now, in the cool breeze of the fan. The air is causing my nipples to harden into small nubs. Who am I kidding; I can't blame it on the air. I know what I'm feeling, and I want more. I can't help myself. I don't want to help myself. Yet I still feel the need to fight it. I want to do battle so that I may surrender at some point. Not now, soon.

Oh diary, did I hold out for too long? It was at this point that I was awakened by the shrill of the alarm. All I wanted to do at that moment was to slip back into my dream world and see my vision to fruition. I know this day will go on forever. My thoughts for the day will inevitably lead me back to the events of my nocturnal imagery. I pray that tomorrow's entry will hold the conclusion to last night's mirage.