I went over for a light supper and a glass of wine and came home starving and without any underwear.
As I sipped my wine and tried to talk politics, my lover gave me instructions.
Take off your dress. Drop it to the floor. Now your bra. Show me your nipples. Feel them. Pinch them. Put your hand in your panties. Violet. Put your hand in your panties. Touch yourself. Harder. Feel yourself. Make yourself come.
I fought a little. I argued, a little.
Touch me, I asked. Come over here. Feel me. Feel how wet. I want you inside me. Please.
But this guy is strict. And sexy.
I gave in. I listened. I did everything he said.
It was the biggest turn on. I came. A few times, while he watched.
And then he tied me to the bedposts. With beautiful soft silk scarves.
I loved the feel of silk against my wrists.
I loved the tug as I tried to free my ankles.
I loved being blindfolded.
And I loved him, standing over me, touching, playing, feeling, not knowing what he was going to do next.
For ten minutes – okay, for a few hours – I relinquished all control. He was the strong one, he was powerful, he made the decisions.
And I loved having someone else in charge.
We never had a safe word. I would just say ‘no’ if something became too much.
I never said no.
I’m not into BDSM. I don’t think. I don’t want chains or ropes, masks or whips.
But I do want silk scarves. Or even fluffy handcuffs. And a light spanking would be nice.
We’re meeting next week.
I hope we do the same things. And more.
It’ll be good.
As long as he remembers to untie me.