Paradise of torments
![](https://madamelule.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/MG_0391.jpg)
I'm taking advantage of the respite of a Sunday to write you a little note of thanks and share a few evocations and musings about your magical session. I thoroughly enjoyed making the suffocating acquaintance of your velvet outfit. What a sweet sensation, and a fearsome one too /.../.
I also loved the way you tied me to the bed, in particular the way you immobilized my legs by linking them with the bracelets, and fixed them with a rope connected to the metal bar. Speaking of metal, here again I never had the slightest desire to let go of the chain... How could I have the will to put an end to such a paradise of torments?
Well, just two evocations.
The first can't fail to be the extreme excitement that grips your submissive when you bring your face close, to let me breathe in your perfume and brush against me with your magnificent hair.
/.../
The second was the very strange sensation when you subjected me to electrical torture. Velvet must be a very good conductor, because when you lifted yourself a few millimeters, little sparks stung my nose very sensitively. The only way to escape the tingling was to plunge my face into your skirt to make contact over a large area, even if it meant not being able to catch my breath.
Suffocating or enduring this pain is a surprising dilemma and a mine of ideas for diabolical torments!
Fortunately, I was going to the provinces by train, which was better suited to long post-session daydreams. A long car journey wouldn't be wise: I might forget to get off the freeway and end up in the deep south! By train, the timetables allow me to set an alarm for getting off at my station.
Have a wonderful evening at the Opéra. I can imagine you watching the show in velvet...
A fantasy assails me: my hands tied to the legs of an armchair in the Palais Garnier, I'm gagged and hooded, my head on the seat. You sit on my face, smothering me under the soft velvet. But there's no way I'm going to gasp, moan or beg... Those noises aren't allowed in the opera! You only lift yourself from time to time to let me breathe in a thin stream of air.....
sssssssss....
... and readjust your position so that the velvet obstructs the little holes in the hood. Who could hear that slight hissing sound masked by the soaring music?
This could be the scenario for our next session, what do you think?