“Are you okay, baby? It’s not too tight?”
“Yes. I’m okay”
I hoped my raspy whisper sounded husky and seductive rather than betraying my fear and uncertainty. I was still trying to figure out how I ended up handcuffed and blindfolded on my lover’s bed.
It was a first for me and, seemingly, a first for him as well. At least in the real world.
This little experiment started when I discovered his porn stash. Not the garden variety of naughty librarians and bored step-moms. It was nothing but BDSM, hundreds of videos and images, bookmarked and stored on his laptop.
I didn’t find them because I was snooping, either. My phone died, and I was using his laptop to check my messages when GIFs and notifications started popping up. Dozens of them, and I clicked on one when curiosity got the better of me.
`He noticed what was happening at about the same time as I turned to him and said “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he stammered, not quite looking me in the eye. “Just fantasy, you know. For fun.”
“Sure, baby. Just keep it in the digital realm.”
I had to laugh. It’s hard to be too mad at someone who looked so much like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I gotta go now. I have a lot of work to clear out before Friday” I said, closing out my email account and standing up. “Are we still on for this weekend?”
“Are we?” he replied. His eyes were both defiant and a little scared, as though I discovered his dirty little secret and thought less of him for it.
“Of course. I’ll see you then.”
Over the next few days, he began a courtship of sorts. Maybe he was encouraged that I didn’t lose my mind when I learned of his proclivities and break it off with him immediately. Why would I? People watch porn. Hell, we’ve watched it together a few times.
Not the bondage, stuff, though, and that’s what he started sending me. The images seemed carefully curated, some were even quite beautifully done. They were very artful, really.
They didn’t come out of the blue. The first batch, which arrived later in the evening, was preceded by a message that said:
“I’m sorry you had to see that. I hope you know I would never disrespect you or want to hurt you. But, this is something I’ve always been interested in. Would you be willing to try it with me?”
I was a little stunned when I read that. BDSM was something I knew nothing about and had no interest in before. My perception was that it was something degrading that no one with self-respect would enjoy. I don’t like pain of any kind, I hate being told what to do, and if someone said something degrading to me, I’d probably knock their head off.
Besides, as strong as my personality is, I thought I would be the one with the whip in hand, not the person bending over to receive it.
After that first message, the images started coming to me via SMS. Not a barrage, but one or two at a time over the next few days. Occasionally, some included comments like “Do you think you would enjoy that?” or “I think this is hot.”
He wasn’t going to let this go.
I pushed away my annoyance and thought about what he was asking. Our relationship had only recently gone from casual to exclusive, and that was something we discussed. In fact, he was big on communication, and he never treated me with anything but respect. Never pushy or demeaning, always asking my opinion, even if he didn’t always defer to it.
On almost all things, from politics to what we wanted for dinner, we were on the same page.
The next time an image came through, I replied “That looks interesting. Let’s explore it.” Then, I quickly sent off a second text: “But, you have to respect my boundaries.”
Our next communication wasn’t a text but a phone call.
“Of course, I will,” he said. “Do you really mean it? We can try it?”
“Yes. Now will you let me get some work done?”
Friday came, and I arrived at his apartment nervous, excited, and a little scared. We always spent the weekends together at his home or mine, but this felt more like a first date, sweaty palms, butterflies, and all.
After a light dinner, some wine, and small talk about our week, he stood up and turned to me, extending his hand.
“Are you ready to play?”
Part of me wanted to scream “No!” and run out the door. But, I took his hand and he led me to the bedroom.
I’m not sure what I expected. That it was suddenly transformed into a torture dungeon? Stocks? A whipping post?
None of the above.
It was just his same minimally decorated bedroom, all lit up with candles and new sheets on the bed, dark wine-colored satin. There were no implements of torture on the bedside table, but only a length of black satin, a pair of handcuffs, a new bundle of rope, and a variety of dildos and toys.
“I see you went shopping,” I said with a short laugh to hide my nervousness.
“Yes,” he said, pulling me close and nuzzling my ear. He nipped at my earlobe and then my neck, sharp and hard, with the barest hint of pain. He unzipped my dress down the back and it fell to the floor. I wore nothing underneath.
“Nice,” he said, stepping back to take me in. “Beautiful. Now turn around.” His voice suddenly became more assertive and commanding. I panicked a little. Was he going to turn into some abuser?
Sensing the change in my demeanor, he lifted my chin and looked at me, his tone softened as he said. “Relax. I told you. This is just for play. For my pleasure, and hopefully for yours, too. Do you trust me?”
After searching his face and looking as deeply into his eyes as I could, I knew that I did trust him and relaxed.
I nodded yes, and he laughed as he spun me around and smacked me firmly on the ass. “Next time listen or I’ll do it again.” He tied the length of satin around my eyes and, turning me back to face him, kissed me on the forehead before maneuvering me backward and onto the bed.
When one sense is lost, the others are heightened. He mumbled to himself and rummaged through the items on the table, and every sound was magnified. My own breath came faster and my heartbeat sounded loud as its echoes pounded in my ears.
I heard the chain from the handcuffs jingle and felt the bed compress a little as he sat beside me. He lifted one hand, and then the other, and held my wrists together before cuffing them to the headboard behind my head.
“Are you okay, baby? It’s not too tight?”
The next few hours were a mix of excitement and trepidation that quickly transformed into anticipation as I waited, blind, to experience what pleasures awaited me next. I would hear him walk away or to the other side of the bed, and then suddenly the feeling of a tickle or a toy. I would hear a little chuckle and then the sound of a vibrator being activated. Throughout, he continued to check in to get my input and make sure that I was okay.
None of it was what I expected. I also discovered something I didn’t know I needed in my life. I experienced dominance without abuse and the art of truly surrendering to pleasure without trying to control the outcome. I felt fully present in my body for the first time. Thoughts of anything but pleasure left my head, even in the time after when we cuddled close for what seemed like hours.
I wish I had discovered that stash on his computer earlier.
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