Everything had begun a few moments beforehand. In this large, richly decorated room, he had sat on a sofa while she had settled on the canopied bed. He had looked at her, his eyes speaking for him.

She had never thought of herself as truly beautiful. Too large, too myopic…now too faded. But before him, before the radiance of his regard, the gentleness of his smile, she had felt seductive. She had felt revived.

Then he had gotten up. She had begun to unbutton the top of her blouse but, with a sweet gesture, he had stopped her. He took her hands, pulling her to her feet, facing him. 

Then he covered her eyes with a scarf of black silk.

Beatrice had always loved to have her eyes blindfolded. The mystery, the inability to perceive the other’s reactions, all contributed to the creation of an erotic, almost electric, atmosphere that awakened her senses.

S.’ hands then began their slow and delicious ballet. By successive light touches, alternately gestures and caresses, they unbuttoned her blouse one by one, until it eventually fell to the ground. Instinctively she crossed her arms, hiding her breasts while a slight blush of timidity kissed her cheeks.

He caressed her shoulders, the base of her neck. Placing himself behind her, he slid the palms of his hands against her back, the ends of his fingers brushing her skin like so many tiny grazes and hot drops of rain. Another tactful yet grand motion, and she felt her skirt slide in its turn to the bottom of her long, slender legs.

He studied her, then, half-undressed to the extent he had demanded of her: high heels, black stockings, black satin G-string…her breasts were from the outset allowed to move freely.

He then took a pair of long, black opera gloves, and placed them in Beatrice’s joined hands. It took her several seconds to understand what they were, but then she attempted to slip them on as elegantly as possible. This activity troubled her, for two reasons. She found this reverse striptease exercise surprising (this thought, added to the sweetness of satin on her skin, added elsewhere to her excitement), but she wondered primarily if the usefulness of this accessory was only aesthetic.

She did not have long to wait before she understood. Seizing her hands, he held them together behind her back, until soon a supple and soft cord constrained them. The effect was immediate.

Her surprise was merely relativeæS. insisted above all else in establishing the rules of the game very precisely, and she knew (and had accepted enthusiastically) that a little bondage would be part of the cocktail of their meeting. But there had been few times when she had not been bound, when she had not experienced the intoxication of physical submissionæof her hands and other placesæso that now, one more time, her excitement became almost visible, and definitely erotic.

This concern for detail betrayed S.’s consideration. The gloves, reaching almost to the elbows, were without doubt a fetishist’s things, but they also provided a perfect protection for her wrists. Without allowing any mark that might have detracted from the reality of an afternoon presumably devoted to the joys of shopping ...

The following act was more insidious. Another cord  interlaced itself between Beatrice’s elbows, and its grip was progressively adjusted until finally it prevented the least movement. Without forgetting that, she arched her back instinctively, for her young master’s greatest pleasure.

He guided her to the bed, slowly, letting her lean against him, and hinted that she should kneel. When she had done so, two large leather straps were wrapped around each thigh and each ankle, causing Beatrice to be a prisoner of this humbling position.

He moved back a step and contemplated the superb and touching spectacle. Beatrice’s soft sighs, too rapid now, showed her excitement, as much as the subtle reactions of her body. Only one more piece remained for assembling the marvelous puzzle and commencing the game. Her knelt behind her, caressed her hair, her face, her neck ...

Finally, Beatrice felt a soft yet rigid material slide against her mouth. He played with it, and her lips discerned without effort the spherical aspect of the object. A leather thong caressed her cheek, until her keen ear perceived the metallic tinkling of that which she understood was the clasp.

She understood the significance of the acceptance that she was about to make. In opening her mouth, in letting herself be gagged, she accepted his domination, abandoning herself to him and becoming a slave to his pleasure. Bound, forced into silence, and deprived of sight, she was completely at his mercy.

The mixture of apprehension and excitement that she experienced made the sugar of desire run through her veins. She became intoxicated for an instant by the prohibited perfume that she almost sensed, and gave her the confidence to ask him for it. When the leather thong was adjusted, she was on the verge of coming...
but he ignored it.

Was he content to look at her, to play with this spectacle, to incite her to struggle? Or, again, to abuse her coldly, like a manager of a creole plantation testing the slave whom he has come to buy ? 
Or perhaps once more to inflict a spanking on her, so humiliating ... and delicious.
The response came in the form of a scent. Heavy, sugary, it filled her senses. She recognized this odor: massage oil.
His hands resumed their ballet on her nude skin, but with a tenfold softness. Each of his gestures embraced her with desire, such that his calculated caresses transformed her body into a marvelous instrument. His hands seemed to exist on their own: tender when she tried to stretch the curve of her shoulders, soft when she tried to turn on her stomach, dissolute when she played and thrust out her breast.

Soon, other virtuosi were invited to this concert. She felt his mouth, by turns wet or caressing, placing itself on each big toe, extracting from her the first sighs of pleasure when it tantalized the point of her breasts. Then he did this to her body. He was from then on nude, and pressed her against his skin when he took her in his arms in an infinite and delicious caress. She felt his heat, his softness, his calm and deep breaths.

In order to be less tall than she, he was not less dressed. His caresses became more selective, and she soon understood that his only care was to give her the greatest of gifts. Little by little, with patience, attention, gentleness, perfection, he used his talents to build Beatrice’s pleasure. She was going crazy, feeling vibrations build inside her, sensations unheard of and delicious. Her mind fantasized, amplifying again the ecstasy that took possession of her entire being. 

She imagined him removing her gag, then kissing her crazily, gripping her by her hair. Finally, he would bring her around to kiss her neck. Then, further down, her torso. Then even further down, her belly. Then ...

These mad ideas embarrassed her, and her body betrayed her. From the depths of her being grew a joyous wave that carried her away, submerged her, engulfed her. She moaned around the obstacle in her mouth, her limbs tensing against their restraints while her delicious immobilization again accentuated the tempest that raged within her.

Her blindfold prevented her from seeing anything that S. preferred to keep to himself. He smiled, pleased with the pleasure that he had come to give her. Her scent, her perfume, impregnated itself in his soul like souvenirs. She was free beyond his bonds, and her soul exploded in a pure, deserved pleasure. He stretched himself out, breathless, gleaming with oil and perspiration, and his caresses softly accompanied the pause necessary for her to accommodate herself to the creases of the crumpled sheets.

When she had calmed down, he loosened the bonds. He covered her with kisses, last caresses, while she sank into a light sleep. When she awoke and removed her blindfold, he had disappeared.

On the bed, a card, carrying the written message: 
Exposed without taboos.

She smiled ...