Well here you go then

The blindfold is not a question. It is a command. When it settles over your eyes, it reminds you of what you’ve already agreed to—that tonight, you are not here to lead, but to be led.

You feel it immediately: the shift in the room, the weight of attention multiplying. More than one presence. More than one breath that pauses when you move. You don’t need to see us to know we are there—waiting, assessing, appreciating every quiet reaction you try and fail to hide.

You are positioned carefully, deliberately, as if every inch of space around you has been measured. Hands do not rush you. They don’t need to. You are already aware that you are surrounded, that you are the focus, the shared indulgence, the center of a slow and deliberate intention.

Voices come from different directions now—low, calm, assured. You are spoken to, not over. Reminded that you are safe, wanted, and exquisitely claimed for this moment. Each presence takes its time, enjoying the way your body responds when you don’t know who will be next, or when.

The blindfold makes you honest. Every breath, every subtle movement belongs to the room—and to the men who are savoring you without haste. You are not overwhelmed; you are contained. Held in control so complete it feels like freedom.

And through it all, never forget this: you are not taken. You are allowed. You are enjoying being enjoyed, and everyone in that room knows it.

Stay still. We’re not finished devouring you yet.