Just a few moments earlier she had listened as Sir got dressed. She had never been blindfolded before. The thought of sensory deprivation always made her uneasy. Her balance was bad enough without taking her most reliable sense out of the equation and even if she were to stay laying down the entire time she still had never trusted anyone enough to let them blindfold her.
Even as a child she hated playing games where she would have to keep her eyes closed. She always peeked. So it surprised her how much she had enjoyed being blindfolded by Sir. Being robbed of her sight seemed to make her other senses much more keen. Sounds and smells were clear and sharp. And trying to guess where he would touch her next was beyond exciting. It drove her wild. Each time he stopped touching her and walked around the room mysteriously she anticipated where she would feel him next. It might be something sweet and slow like the warmth of his breath near her hips… Or it may be something sharp and short; the sting of his palm against her behind. At it seemed that whatever it was she was anticipating, the opposite would happen.
Before he left she’d listened to every move he made, picturing it all behind the soft satin of the blindfold. She’d heard the rustle of fabric. The zip of his jeans. His belt being buckled. The clip of his watch being fastened to his wrist. She’d listened as he gathered his belongings - saying not a single word to her - and strode heavily toward the door. She followed each step he made through sound alone; the tiny crunch of short pile carpet and the gentlest tremble of the floorboards beneath it. Then the short metal thud as he unlocked the door and the gentle whine of opening. Before he left he’d called over to her.
“Say thank you, slave.”
“Thank you, Sir.”