The black and blue scarves, several meters in length, were soft against my wrists as he tightened the knots the way I'd shown him. He hadn't even know how to tie a decent knot before I met him. The silk secured my wrists to each other and granted me the illusion of helplessness. I could, of course, escape any time I wanted, but that was that allure, the illusion.
In every day life, I was an outgoing, domineering workaholic. I got things done, I made decisions, I was in control. But here, with him, I gave it up, I let him force it from me, secure in the knowledge that I could stop it at any time, and that I could trust him. Secure in the knowledge that I could forget that I, held all the power and that it would be okay. He would bind me in the firm, soft bonds of silk and I would be well cared for.
He turned me over, onto my tummy, and ran his fingernails down my legs, tickling at my knees, and to my ankles. He held another length of silk and used it to gently bind my ankles. Thusly secured, I was unable to resist, as I so desired.
He ran a hand up my thigh and to my ample bottom.
When we'd met, he wasn't interested any sort of bondage. He had no desire to tie me up, to spank my bottom, but he wanted to please me, to meet my needs, and so he learned to tie knots and to smack bottoms.
He started slowly, sharp but slow, getting my ass used to the sting. I squirmed a bit, but it was nice. Then he began spanking harder. I gasped and tensed. The pain, the sensation, began to intensify and filled me like nothing else could. I strained against my bonds as I tensed, as the goose bumps rippled over my skin.
The silk held me.
The illusion overcame me.