It is my day of confession, one of many. One of four I should say. Today, the first Sunday. The Sunday of Atonement. This is, of course, Milord’s name for today, not the Church’s. He’s come up with a diabolical, wonderful, reflective way to prepare for Christmas, one in keeping with our lifestyle. Each Sunday of Advent will be devoted to an aspect of BDSM – Bondage – Discipline – Submission/Sado – Master/Masocism. Today is Bondage. We began with him explaining this to me – in great detail – and me eagerly and willingly agreeing to it all. Today,  I will be bound in some manner for 24 hours – midnight to midnight.  He begins by placing my collar around my neck. This is my first mark of my bond to him. He takes me over his lap, spanks me soundly and then we make love until we have both come and exhausted ourselves. We fell into sweet sleep. The next morning, I give him my right wrist to which he attaches one pink handcuff. This, he assures me, he will lock to the other wrist at times throughout the day, sometimes he will secure me to the other objects, but until we return to our bed tonight, at least one wrist will be cuffed. I despise wearing cuffs like this, and he knows it. Nonetheless, I agreed willingly, the humiliation adding to my submission and excitement. He again took me over his lap and spanked me. Harder this time and I began to cry. He ran his finger down my slit and laughed when he discovered my wetness. He worked his fingers inside of me and I came all over his three fingers. Then he added a fourth. I moaned, feeling so desperately full. Then a fifth. I cried out and asked what he was doing. “Is that a complaint?” he asked. If I said yes, he would withdraw. I knew this. “No,” I answered. “Just a question. Please. Tell me.” His voice was as intoxicating as his body, more so in many ways. “I’m going to finger fuck you for a while, and then, then I’m going to slide my whole fist into you and fuck you some more.” I groaned and raised my hips to give him better access. He’d promised to fist me at some point, and today, apparently, was the day. He was slow, methodical, easing his hand iinside of me, clenching into a fist, then fucking me. I exploded, covering his hand in my own pleasure and pain. Slowly, gently, he eased out of me, but as he did, he worked his fingers into my ass, lending that hole the slickness he desired. When he was satisfied and I begging for him again, he pushed me off his lap. I knelt on the floor, my ass raised, and he pressed his hardned cock into my back hole. He rocked in and out while I cried and came again. The world stopped and all I knew was him. He came, filling me with his cum. Slowly he pulled out and I whined. “I’m not finished, my love.” He pushed in a hard, cold plug, stoppering his cum inside of me. Only then did he help me to my shaky feet. To my shock, a metal chain hung between my legs. I looked at Milord, confused. He took my hands and clicked the second cuff around my left wrist then attached the end of the chain to the cuffs. I lifted my wrists and felt a tug in my behind. “You could, if you chose, pull out that plug. I will, though, be disappointed if you do. You won’t want me to be disappointed,” he said.

For severl hours I struggled, my wrists bound, unable to lift them past my waist without fear of pulling out the plug. He’d not said what would happen if I did, but I knew I wouldn’t like it. When it was time for bed, he released my wrists. I was so grateful I begged to be allowed to suck him off. He denied this, but did let me suck him. Before he came, though, he lifted me to the bed and entered my dripping pussy, now recovered from the fisting. I was so grateful and ready I came the moment his flesh touched mine. He sucked my nipples and made love to me. His collar felt like a crown around my neck. Just before he came, he grabbed the chain attached to the plug and pulled. I screamed, came, and welcomed his release as well. After, he held me, released my collar. I felt bereft without it. We fell asleep in each others arms, content. I can’t wait until next Sunday.