Ten Minute Touch Therapy...

So I found myself home unexpectedly the last two days and, unlike yesterday, our littlest one decided to take a nap. Now, when I say take a nap, I mean my poor slave took the little one upstairs and placed her into the baby jail and let her scream until she finally fell asleep. Not exactly soothing. 

So when the text came that she was down, I went up quickly hoping to capitalize on the moment. My poor slave has been so frazzled the last few days and all that wear and stress showed in her form. Now, last night there was the faintest hope that we would have the chance together. A hope that was, as usual, not fulfilled. I know the slave had intentions, be it bondage and sex or what have you. But today, as she knelt there on the floor looking numbly up at me there was no intent and very little hope, just need. I know how the depression of stress can taint the mind. I asked her what it was she wanted or needed to have. Bondage? Sex? Torment? Being bound and hooded, left without little hands pawing at her or screaming in her ears? 

My slave responded with one word. Well more of an implication of a word that she had used the night before. Touch. Simple moments being reduced to an object in my hands, feeling the heat of my body pressed against her. This was communicated by her burring her head in my chest and remain unmoving. We had little time so I ordered her to strip and get into the bed. Oh fantastic side note, the slave surprised me after a shopping trip last week or so with black satin sheets. Normally, items purchased outside the list sent with her make me raise an eyebrow and often a swat or two to her bum. This, on the other hand was a most welcome treat. Earlier today she had cleaned upstairs and placed these new sheets on the bed. I intend to get a few shots of them, with some lovey garnish of course. I digress. 

Onto the bed she climbed, immediately burying herself into her blanket. I laughed, and retrieved the blindfold from the drawer and a length of rope from the shelf. I pulled the blanket from her and slipped into my bed, caught instantly by the surprising feel of satin against my naked body. Cold but so soft like liquid metal. So delicious. I ordered my slave to sit up and face the other direction as I bound her hands behind her back. The blind fold was pulled over her eyes next, sealing her into a world of feeling and sound. I pulled her down next to me and she fell into my arms, pressing her naked body against mine. We lay like that for a while, entwined, her helpless in my grasp. It was heavenly, an instant of just the two of us. I love the feel of a naked woman, grinding against me without the use of her hands. Making love with every part of her body in the absence of the most prominent appendage of touch. I, of course, had every intention to spread her legs and mine my pleasure from her. My fingers found her wet and hot, an eager tremble coursed through her. Just a perfect moment. 

A moment that ended with the sound of our stirring little one. A depressed sigh in unison is an interesting thing and something that my slave and I share more and more often. The little one's nap lasted no more than fifteen minutes from start to finish and our unity less than ten. However, it helped. We could both feel it. Another brief stimulant to get us through this drought. Now, to repeat this therapy for two or three sessions a day every day and we might just find our selves being okay again...