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The Trunk

"Maybe I could just look", she said.

They had been talking. It had been supposed to be just a drink after work. Friends sitting and having a light conversation. Something they had done before more than once.

But this time the conversation went somewhere that she was not expecting. And that is when he mentioned the trunk.

She had known that he had had a rather rich sex life a few years ago, with a number of women, but he had never talked about what kind of sex he was having.

That evening he had told her the story of how he discovered his interest in BDSM, ropes and cuffs and floggers and candle wax and paddles and canes. And dominance, which seemed a very odd fit for the man she knew. But it also felt like it made sense.

He had been talking about the different things that he had done, and she found herself feeling more interest than she would have liked to admit, and increasingly eager to hear more.

"But these days", he had said, "I'm just a guy with a trunk full of equipment under my bed."

And the trunk had captured her imagination. His stories were interesting, and more than a bit appealing, but they were stories of the past about people she didn't know. But here was a box of real things that could be seen and touched. And she suddenly felt an urgent need to know what was inside.

She had tried asking, very casually of course, for him to describe what was inside the trunk, but he kept brushing it aside, answering with few words and deepening the mystery.

He'd begun asking her questions then. Had she ever tried any of these things? Was she curious? Were there things that she might want to try? Things she had been wanting?

His candor seemed to dull her inhibitions, perhaps in concert with the drinks, and she began to admit to curiosity, and to fantasies that she had nurtured.

He had listened attentively, and occasionally offered thoughts and encouragement. She had begun to realize from what he said that many, perhaps all of the fantasies and secret desires that she had confessed to were things he had done, or done something like, in real life. It was subtle but he had been dropping a few words here and there that made it clear that these were things that he had had experience with.

And, knowing that, she had begun asking him about things he might have done. He had implied that he knew how to tie people, women, up. Did he have rope? It seemed like he might have given some spankings. Did he have canes or paddles?

He had seemed happy and amused to answer her questions. Yes, he had these things, and many more. Yes, he had done these things, and maybe some things that she had not imagined.

When she paused, having run out of questions, he had one.

"Would you like to try any of these things? Would you like to know how they feel?", he had asked.

"I can't", she had said, "I can't do those things. I would like to try them, but I can't."

She had paused, and thought for a moment. "Is it possible to do some of these things but not have it be sexual, not have sex?", she had asked.

"Yes", he had said, "everybody draws the line for themselves, and draws it in different places. People have different things that they are willing to do and are not willing to do. And people define what is sexual differently also. But it is absolutely possible to do some of these things and not have it be sexual, the way you understand sexual. You get to draw your own line wherever you would like."

He had paused then. "And you can move the line any time you feel like it."

"That is what I am afraid of", she had said.

"Would you like to just try a few of the things that I have in the trunk, just casually to see how they feel?", he had asked.

"Maybe I could just look", she said.

"I think that many of the things that you wish for you could reach out and take if you would allow yourself to", he said.

"That is also what I am afraid of", she said.

That night she didn't look. She went home and dove back into her world and her life, where none of this was real. But she was left with a feeling that would not go away. And she was left with a question: What was in that trunk? And why did it matter?


"I feel like I am supposed to be kissing you"

It was a much warmer day when he asked her if she would like to go for a drive.

He had actually asked her if she would like to go for a drive many times at many temperatures in the many intervening days but she had never been willing or able to go.

But this time she allowed the thought some time to sink in, and she said yes, she would love to.

The afternoon light was beautiful and the day felt like a return to life. Once he had gotten the car out of the city there was so much that was so lovely. The world seemed on riotous display and he was navigating the grand tour.

He seemed at once to know exactly where he was going and also be going nowhere. He turned and meandered confidently, but seemingly where the spirit moved him. The spirit seemed to have a plan and he was content to follow it.

So, it seemed, was she.

He seemed as happy as she could remember driving her through the scenery. He had an uncharacteristically broad smile of contentment, and he seemed to be doing exactly what made him happy. She wondered how much of his happiness was the drive, and how much was her presence, and then she was angry with herself for the thought. But the idea lingered that it was much more than the scenic route that was so pleasing to him.

They talked about serious things and nonsense. Gossip and dreams and ideas and deeply held thoughts and matters of their own hearts. And also things sexual, perhaps sometimes casually, perhaps with thinly disguised earnestness, but always with at least a paper thin layer of the abstract to keep the conversation safe.

And she once again prodded him to tell her about his sexual adventures, and about the delightful and also frightening objects in the trunk.

And he, as before, cajoled her fantasies and desires out of her, and she found that she was making many admissions that filled her instantly with embarrassment and excitement at having shared them. But each time she did he was encouraging and made her feel safe, so she kept talking and feeling more and more open even as she surprised herself by what she was willing to tell him.

They were driving along the river when he asked if she would like to walk for a bit. The surroundings were very beautiful and there seemed to be a path and benches and lovely landscaping near the banks, calling her to come and stroll through them.

They parked and began walking toward the water. The air felt even warmer and the diffuse sunlight and hint of a breeze felt wonderful on her skin.

They walked to a very elegant pedestrian bridge and wandered to the middle. They looked out over the water and the scene seemed to be more a romantic postcard than reality.

She absorbed this all for a moment, and then looked at his face. She was struck by the way the setting seemed to complement his eyes and his features and his smile, and was more than a little alarmed by the feeling.

Trying to brush it off she said, "I feel like I am supposed to be kissing you", and laughed.

"Far be it from me to argue with that", he said.

She reached out and touched his face, brushing back his hair, then quickly withdrew her hand.
"I imagine that you are a spectacular kisser", he said.
She said nothing but liked the thought.

They walked a bit more, but she had worn some stylish but uncomfortable boots that day, not expecting to be doing this, and her feet had begun to hurt. She had almost taken them off in the car but then thought the better of it. She was uncertain why, since he would probably have been perfectly happy if she had. Maybe that was the reason.

When she mentioned the pain that the boots were causing, he said, "I don't live very far from here. If you would like to come to my house for some tea, I think that I can help with that."

She wondered what he had in mind, and how exactly he even knew where "here" was, and she wondered why she would even consider going to this man's house, which seemed crazy.

"Yes", she said, "I'd love some tea, and to get these boots off."

"I can do better than that", he said, and she allowed him to leave it there.


"I would like that."

Whatever she was expecting, she was not expecting this. and yet everything she saw made sense. He had a leafless white birch that lit up on his porch. Of course he did. He had a tidy postage stamp of a yard which looked like it had been maintained but was beginning to show signs of inattention.

The house itself had many windows that allowed in the light, and, though he had expressed a great deal of negativity about his own housekeeping it was actually not so bad, nice really.

He took a little glass teapot out of the cabinet and carried it into the kitchen. It was the kind that had a built in filter for loose tea but he put that on the counter and got an odd little ball of leaves out of a canister.

He seemed to suddenly remember something and pushed the switch on an electric kettle on the counter.

She looked around the room and talked with him as the kettle began to first mutter and then roar. He poured the water and carried it back into the dining room.

He pulled her chair out for her. She took a seat, but wondered about him. He was a puzzle and she kept thinking that she understood and then realized that the puzzle was a bit more difficult to solve.

He gestured at the teapot. The little ball of leaves had turned into a kind of flower. She had seen this kind of thing before but it was a delight even so. Of course he would have tea like that.

They continued talking as the flower expanded, and after a few moments he poured her a cup. She sat sipping the tea and then looked at him. She was going to ask if he wouldn't mind if she took her boots off, but then she remembered what he had said earlier. She was curious about that.

"So what did you have in mind for helping me with my feet?", she asked.

He slid his chair forward, toward her and picked up right leg. She was startled but oddly not displeased.

In what seemed like an instant he had her boot, and then her sock off, and was beginning to kneed her now bare foot with his fingers. She had a fleeting feeling that she should stop this, but it felt wonderful and he seemed practiced, perhaps skilled at this. He used his knuckles on the soles of her feel and she sighed. He gently massaged each toe with is fingers and she closed her eyes and allowed the pleasure of it to wash over her.

He picked up her left foot and took off the boot and sock and gave that foot similar attention. He seemed to be enjoying himself as much as she was enjoying it, perhaps more. She didn't know if that should worry her but decided to not worry about anything.

After quite a while, he gave each foot a gentle stroke and asked, "would you like to look at the things in the trunk?"

She felt like she was waking from a dream. "Yes", she said, not even thinking about her words, "I would like that."

He carefully took her feet out of his lap and placed them on the floor, then stood and offered his hand.

She looked for a moment at her boots with the socks placed neatly inside them, and then, after inspecting the cleanliness of the floor, decided to not worry about them and she took his hand stood, barefoot, and followed him.


"I would love to know how that feels"

He lead her into his bedroom, which felt a bit awkward, but that was where the trunk was. She was surprised by its relative neatness and coziness. She had imagined that a man unattached, and more specifically this man, would have a jumbled mess of a bedroom where chaos reigned. But, while is was certainly generously supplied with his furniture and possessions, and not without clutter, there was also open space and there were many things that pleased the eye.

She did not want to sit on the bed, but she saw a comfortable looking chair against the wall and she sat down. One thing the room lacked was a rug, so she pulled her feet off of the cold floor and curled up on the chair. Behind the chair was a window that was just sunny enough and in the expansive armless embrace of the chair, she sunk in and imagined lazily reading in the afternoon light.

He seemed pleased with her choice.

"I could get used to this", she said.

"I would love it if you did", he said. He had been carrying her drink as well as his own and he placed it on top of a low bookshelf next to her, and stepped in front of her to reach under the bed. with a quick motion he pulled something out, and there it was: the trunk.

It was just a trunk, black with silver edging, thinner than she had been imagining, but it did have to fit under his bed. With all of its mystery and promise, here it was, seeming unremarkable.

He undid the clasps and opened it, and she was immediately struck by the smell of leather. The jumble that she was expecting from the room was evident in the trunk, and she could not at first distinguish individual objects, but it was full of the unfamiliar. She took a sip of her drink and she leaned forward to look more closely.

As she did, something on the nightstand nearest her caught her eye. It was bright pink and shaped like a crude drawing of a rabbit's head, really like a ball with two protruding "ears". A light glowed where the rabbit's mouth would be, and it sat in a little white stand that seemed to be it's natural home.

"What is that pink thing?", she asked, gesturing at the improbable rabbit head.

"That's a vibrator, my favorite vibrator", he said.

"Why do you need a vibrator?", she asked. "Men don't need help for that kind of thing."

"I don't use it on me", he said, "it is for", he paused "visiting ladies. Actually that specific one has never been used on anyone. It is new and I have not had anyone to enjoy it with. But I have spread quite a bit of joy with vibrators identical to this one."

As he was speaking he picked it up and walked over to where she was sitting. He asked for her hand, and when she gave it to him he began to run the now buzzing rabbit ears over her middle finger. The sensation was dramatic. The ears were vibrating independently and they surrounded the back of her finger.

"You can imagine how this would be very exciting on a different area of the body", he said.

She believed that she could.

After a few moments he put the vibrator back on its stand and returned to his previous task. He pulled over a kind of stool or ottoman and sat next to the trunk, and began taking objects out and laying them on the bed.

When he had emptied it, he picked up some brightly colored bundles of rope. "These are different lengths and I use them to tie in different ways, The long lengths are for elaborate harnesses"

"What do you mean by harnesses?", she asked.

He reached over to the shelf that her drink was on and pulled out a large paperback book full of pictures. Pictures of how to tie knots, and of people who were being tied up, or already were.

She began to leaf through it with great interest, then remembered what they were doing.

He continued, "I also have lengths that are used for more utilitarian things, like tying people to things or tying their hands together."

"Can you show me?" she asked.

"Put your hands out in front of you", he said, and, when she did, he had tied her hands, comfortably but firmly.

She liked the feeling. He smiled and looked in her eyes for a moment, and she wondered whether he planned to untie her, but he did, just as quickly.

He then showed her some dark metal scissors. "These are EMT shears", he said, "They are used to cut ropes when there isn't time to untie them, as a matter of safety. They are also excellent for cutting clothes off."

She had mixed feelings about the way he had said that.

He put the ropes and scissors back in the trunk and picked up some leather strips with buckles on them and lined with fur on one side. She realized before he told her that these were wrist cuffs. No, there were four, wrists and ankles.

"Would you like to try them on?", he asked.

She nodded, and he wrapped one of the cuffs around her wrist, tightening it enough so that it felt snug. He put the second one on and then took a metal clip out of a cloth bag on the bed and clipped them together using metal rings that hung from the sides of the cuffs.

She wondered if he would put the leg cuffs on her also, and the idea felt as appealing as worrying. But he unhooked the clip and put it back in the bag and reached over to the bed again. But he didn't take the wrist cuffs off, and she smiled to herself about that.

He picked up a leather plus sign, of sorts, that seemed to go with the cuffs. There were clips at the end of each arm of the plus. "This is a hog tie", he said, "It goes with the cuffs so that a person's arms and legs can all be tied together behind their back."

She smirked as she formed an image of this, then paused, imagining herself in such a predicament. Then she smirked again.

He put the hog tie and ankle cuffs back in the trunk and picked up a few different things. There was a wooden rod, a compact black paddle of some kind, and something in a velvet bag that had a green wooden handle that protruded. "These are for spankings", he said, smirking himself. He slapped his palm with the rod and then handed it and the black paddle to her to inspect. The paddle was made of some kind of dense, stiff plastic and was much heavier than it looked. She slapped her own palm with it and had cause to regret doing so.

From the velvet bag he withdrew a very nicely made wooden paddle. It was green and had a glossy shine, and it had many holes drilled in it. She was immediately drawn to it and he handed it to her. It was also heavy, but it felt very natural to hold.

Anticipating the obvious question, he said, "The holes are to reduce air resistance so it can be swung faster and harder."

This seemed kind of silly, but she decided that it might actually make a difference. And, she supposed, all that mattered is whether you thought it made a difference.

"Which of these do you prefer?", she asked, then adding, "Or do you like all of them?"

"My own preference is my bare hand against bare skin. For me that is the most intimate, personal and exciting. But, of course, these hurt more and can be more exciting for the person on the receiving end."

She pondered, and perhaps savored the image of his bare hand spanking bare skin, then handed the paddles and the rod back to him. He was already picking up something else: a riding crop.

"I do like this", he said. "It can be used for spanking, but for so much more. It can caress, it can nudge, it can tap and it can strike. It is precise and can add fun to many situations."

She was going to ask about these situations, but thought the better of it.

He picked up a cloth bag and began to put it directly back in the trunk. Of course she had to ask.

"What's in there?"

He paused, and for the only time she could remember since she had known him, he looked awkward and embarrassed. He reached into the bag, and pulled out binder clips and clothespins. After a few moments he said, "Some ladies, and I imagine gentlemen, like to have these put on certain, sensitive areas."

He seemed genuinely uncomfortable explaining this and she was enjoying that. But she allowed him to put them back in the bag, only then imagining what it would be like to have binder clips on these unnamed areas. For the time being she was happy that they were going back into the bag.

He picked up a second cloth bag and was once again going to put it directly in the trunk, but then decided that she would inevitably ask, so he reached in and withdrew four tiny heart shaped padlocks, each made of a different metal. "May I show you?", he asked.

She didn't know what he planned to show her, but she nodded.

Without a word, he took her arm and snapped a padlock through an even tinier ring on the leather cuff that she was wearing, locking the cuff in place, it seemed. As she was examining the lock, he snapped a lock onto the second cuff, and grinned at her.

He pulled a key ring from the bed and unlocked each heart and put them away.

He picked up a miniature glass pitcher, which was full of brightly colored wax. She realized it was a candle, but why was it a pitcher?

"This is for hot wax play. I have used regular candles, and candles  that melt at a lower temperature to drip wax on ladies who enjoy it. There are massage candles that are essentially just like warm oil, and there are high temperature candles that are painful, depending on moods and preferences. But I saw this pitcher candle and I thought it would be fun to try. Maybe I will find someone to try it on."

That sounded a bit like an invitation. She allowed it to hang in the air until he placed the candle in the trunk.

He picked up something made of shiny metal. It was the size and shape of a toothbrush, but where the brush should be there what a tiny wheel of metal spikes.

"This is a Wartenberg Pinwheel", he said. "It is used in neurological testing, but it can also be a delightful sensation".

He reached out and took her hand, turning it palm upwards. He rolled the wheel from her wrist toward her elbow until he reached her rolled up shirt sleeve, then brought it back to her wrist and rolled it again, taking a slightly different track. She was not certain how many times he did this because the sensation was electric.

He put the pinwheel back in the trunk and picked up two black plastic hand grips with dramatic looking claws protruding from where the knuckles would be.

"These are bear claws. They can be bought for a very high price as a sensual toy, or very inexpensively as a kitchen tool", he said, with a smirk.

He put his hand through one of the grips and then turned her arm palm down. He ran the claw down her arm, slowly and deliberately. It was not electric, but entrancing. The sensation as he ran it down her arm again and again felt indescribably at once stimulating and relaxing. She closed her eyes and allowed it to wash over her.

"Imagine this on your back, or you legs, or your shoulders, or anywhere", he said.

She nodded, already doing that.

The collection of objects had dwindled, but there were three large, leather objects that seemed the centerpiece.

He picked one up. It was a cat-o-nine tails, made of black leather, straight out of the nineteenth century. No, there were many more than nine tails.

"I really enjoy flogging", he said. He held the numerously tailed cat out for her and she took it. It had a nice heft and she flicked it around a bit.

"This flogger is made of leather and has more of a stingy feeling. The falls", he said, touching the leather tails, "are thin which makes it sting more. This one is also lighter in weight."

He picked up the second flogger, which was purple and black, and had a diamond pattern, and said, "This one is made of suede and has thicker falls." He held it out for her and she took it, feeling the tassels and their softness. "This provides more thud than sting, and has a tiny bit more weight to it."

He reached for the third flogger and held it out for her to see. It had a solid handle that ended in a chain, from which hung a very heavy mass of very thick, purple leather. She handed him the first two floggers, which he put back on the bed, and took this one. It was very heavy, and seemed at once appealing and frightening. She took a swing with it and almost hit him in the face. It had a long reach and a mind of its own it seemed.

"This one is very heavy and provides a powerful thud sensation. It is the best made and nicest of the floggers that I have, and the one that I enjoy using the most."

"Show me", she said, with more enthusiasm than she had meant to express.

He arranged one of the pillows from the bed so that it was directly in front of her, and took the first flogger, the black leather one, in his hand. He swung at the pillow and it produced a satisfying "thwack", then he drew his arm back and continued striking the pillow for a minute or so.

Then he did the same with the second flogger, the black and purple one. The flogger seemed very similar, but he seemed to be using it more energetically, as though he was gaining some internal momentum.

The act of him flogging the pillow was, for some reason, mesmerizing, and she was a bit startled when he stopped and reached a hand toward her. It took her a moment to realize that she was supposed to hand him the heavy flogger that she had forgotten that she had.

He rearranged the pillow, and then struck it. This was quite a different experience, and a dramatic one. Each strike had much more force, but the sound was different. She understood what he meant by "thud", because that was the right description. The rhythm of his strokes was slower, more deliberate, but each one carried literal and figurative weight.

After what could have been a minute or a year, he turned and looked at her. He said nothing but seemed to be waiting for her to speak.

"I would love to know how that feels", she said, then added, "how it feels to be flogged."

"I could show you", he said. He seemed to be deciding whether to say something. He looked at the floor for a moment, then into her eyes.

"You would need to take your shirt off", he said.

That was, of course, crazy, and not something that she would do. She reached up, and began unbuttoning.


"Yes, please", she said.

She thought that he would have her stand, but he asked her to kneel on the chair that she was sitting in, facing away from him, her feet tucked under her. The back of the chair was low, and he gave her a pillow to rest her elbows on.

He took his hand and, very gently, pushed her head down, and she complied by bending it forward.

After a long moment, longer than she was expecting, he spoke.

"We will start with the light stingy one", he said.

He took a breath, then she felt the leather of the flogger strike her shoulders.

It stung, but it also soothed. It took a few strokes for her to become used to the sensation, and, it seemed, for him to become used to her body. He kept an even rhythm and seemed to be careful to have each stroke fall on a different place on her back and shoulders, not exactly a pattern, but more as though he were painting the surface of her body with the flogger.

She found herself more and more relaxed, and began to drift away. The rhythm and the sensation and his breathing and hers was hypnotic. She felt inexplicably happy, although her bra strap was irritating her. He seemed to be trying to work around it but it became surprisingly uncomfortable.

After a while he stopped, and gently ran the leather falls over the skin of her back, a whole different sensation on the skin that felt very warm from the strokes.

"This will be the light suede one", he said, and he began again.

The suede did provide more of a thud, and she liked it even better, perhaps because of the contrast with the leather flogger. Her relaxation further deepened and he seemed more energetic this time. The bra strap continued to irritate her, but he kept most of the strokes away from it.

After a while he again ran the falls over her skin and the soft suede felt much more intense than the leather had before.

He paused and she heard him doing something so she turned her head and saw that he was taking his shirt off. She saw the glistening of sweat and smiled. She had never seen his chest. Maybe it was the mood and the circumstances but she found it nice to look at.

She saw him pick up the heavy flogger and turned her head back.

It came down with even more force than the considerable amount that she was expecting, but was none of what she feared. She felt like she was melting into the chair and the strokes seemed to erase the world, almost.

After a few minutes, or what could have been a few minutes, she was uncertain, he stopped again and began to run the falls over her back.

"This is wonderful but my bra strap is very uncomfortable", she said.

"Would you like me to unhook it?", he asked.

That was crazy, of course, but she said, "Yes, that would be nice."

From somewhere in her mind rose the thought that maybe she should unhook it and not expect this man to struggle with it. But before the thought had formed he had unhooked the strap with his free hand in what seemed like a fraction of a second. A tiny bit of her mind wondered how he could do that, but he gently moved the strap away and began again.

It seemed like it went on for a wonderful forever. He would stop sometimes and run the flogger over the skin of her back, then begin again. Stroke after stroke fell on her back and she had nothing to distract her from the feelings. The world faded and there was only the man and the flogger.

Eventually, maybe years later, he ran the flogger over her once more, and then seemed to be taking a breath.

She found the flogging very peaceful, but she realized that she had also become quite aroused.

"This is getting me very wet", she said, surprised by her own words.

"It is making me, well, stiff", he said. He paused. "Wait a moment", he said.

She heard him getting something from the trunk, and then she felt the bear claws gliding very lightly and slowly down her back.

This was almost more than she could take. She felt like she would explode. And she did not want him to stop.

The arousal was almost impossible to contain, and he seemed to be in a similar condition.

He stopped and put down the claws. Then his mouth was close to her ear.

"May I bite your shoulders?", he asked, in a whisper.

She would have said yes to anything, she thought. "Yes, please", she said.

She felt his teeth on her skin and then gnawing on the muscles in her shoulders. It was intimate in a way that she could no longer stand.

He put his hands on her shoulders and paused. Before he could do anything else, she spun quickly around to face him. She put her hands on the sides of his head and kissed him. He had imagined that she was a spectacular kisser. He seemed to be getting confirmation of that.

"Yes", she said.

Her bra was on the floor and they were together on the chair. She ran her hands over him, and he over her, and he was covering her neck and shoulders with kisses and gentle bites. He began to kiss her breasts and did something that she could not quite describe with his tongue to her nipples.

His hand began to rub the crotch of her jeans and she heard herself moan.

He put his mouth close to her ear. "Do you want to come?", he whispered.

The final threshold seemed to have arrived. She stopped to think, but thinking seemed impossible.

"Yes", she said.

"Get on the bed", he said, softly.

She lay down and he unzipped her jeans, then pulled them off along with her panties in one motion.

He buried his face in her pussy, and began to lick her with abandon. She felt his finger slide inside her and he did something even more indescribable with his tongue to her clit.

She was already close to orgasm before he even began and this pushed her over the edge. She shook with it as it rolled over her body.

He placed one further kiss on her clit, then grabbed the rabbit head vibrator from the nightstand and began to run it over her where his mouth had just been. He began with a light touch, more teasing than anything else, but soon the bunny's ears were on either side of her clit, sliding forward and back. She could see why this was his favorite vibrator. The second orgasm was stronger than the first.

She realized that he had not taken off his pants. "Why won't you take off your pants? Don't you want me to see your cock?", she asked.

He brought his face up to hers and grinned. "If you want to see my cock", he said, grinning more broadly, "you are going to have to say please."

She wasn't expecting that answer. She liked the sudden appearance of this side of him, surprising as it was. Maybe it wasn't a surprise. She felt like she had always seen it, under his eagerness to please her. She found it exciting, and oddly charming.

But she did not have the time or the patience for this. Not in this moment. "Fuck that", she said.

She was the stronger of them, and she flipped him on his back and had his pants off as quickly as he had had hers.

She took his cock in her mouth hungrily, and began to stroke it with her hand. His face seemed to project ecstasy, and she could see that, for him, this turn of events was far more wonderful than whatever he had been planning.

She could feel him straining to not come, holding out, longing perhaps to fuck her. She looked again into his eyes. She considered the cock in her mouth, then slid forward and put it inside her. She pressed him against the bed and pushed his cock deeper into her.

She had a longing for some fucking also.

When she felt his orgasm she was driven into one more of her own.

She stopped and looked at his face. He was beaming at her, as if he was looking at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She loved the reflection she saw in his eyes.

They were silent, and then he said, "Would you like to keep going or rest for a while?"

She laughed, then leaned forward and kissed him. She encircled him with her arms and held him close.

He pulled her closer yet.


"I could get used to this", she said.

He had been holding her for a while.

"Would you like some water?", he asked.

"Yes, please", she said.

There was a water bottle on the nightstand and he opened it and gave it to her.

She sat up. She could feel his eyes on her body. It seemed like he could not get enough of it.

That was on his mind also. "I love your body. I love to look at you. I would love to look at you like this forever. If it were up to me you would always be naked."

She turned her face away and smiled, her cheeks feeling a bit warm.

He continued, "But I know that you might not be comfortable, so if you would like a robe I would be happy to get one for you."

"I would like that, for the moment", she said.

That made him smile. He stood and brought her a green fuzzy robe which she put on.

She looked at her wrist. "Did you forget the cuffs?", she asked.

"Oh no", he said, "I didn't forget them. But I also realized that it was a bit much to ask you to allow me to cuff you to the bed. Later, when I have earned more of your trust. But tonight, it was not a reasonable expectation."

She was the one who smiled this time, and she undid the clasps on the cuffs.

"Can you show me where the bathroom is?", she asked.

When she was done, she sat on the bed, and he leaned into a kiss that seemed to last for hours.

She stood up and walked back to the chair.

She picked up the book of knots and tied up people and began to leaf through it again.

She felt him put his hand on her heel and she saw that he was sitting on the ottoman thing. He put her foot on his lap and began happily rubbing it.

"I could get used to this", she said.


Fan Favorites

Water and Air

I am a creature of the sea. The water is my home, I in it, it in me. I am enveloped by it and I drink it in, nourished, filled with life, in happy union. I am a creature of the air. I fly above the blue water, sunlight bright on my skin. Bright dot against the sky. I dance, with you. I see you are a shining fish like me, come up from oceans different, yet much the same. We will each, in our time, seek sea's embrace again, then rise, and fly together, in the warm air.

Fresh Every Day

Before the great Bryce Lloyd fire of '15 (not an actual fire), on the ancient version of this blog, I wrote an essay. I wrote many actually, and many were lost in the (not literal) fire. Two of these were such that keenly feel their loss, and I remember them with fondness, and also sadness. What follows is an effort to recapture one of these again here, because I feel as if it had an enduring value, at least to me. We shall see about that. When I was first married, I was drawn to symbols of permanence: gold rings, diamonds (which are not really forever) and things, in general, that seemed an unchanging touchstone that could represent the eternal. These symbols, perhaps, were manifestations of my insecurity, but they also embodied an ideal: they were physical representations of a lasting love that could, and would, survive the years. I think that it is an image and an idea that society presents and we consume, unthinkingly, but it also did resonate with my own image and unde

Cleaning Up

“So, you will require a cleaning once every two weeks, including the living room, dining room, kitchen, stairs, hallway and bathroom, correct?” “Yes”, he said, “that is what I would prefer.” “And my rate is OK with you?”, she asked. “Yes, but I would expect to pay more for the first cleaning because of the extra work involved”, he said. “I didn’t ask for that.” “I know, but it seemed fair to me.” She pondered this for a while. Waves of emotion seemed to capture her, and she seemed to be about to speak several times. Eventually, she did speak. “That is generous and speaks well of you”, she said, “but no such additional payment is required. I quote my rates on the back of my experience, and I get significant satisfaction from my work.” He smiled. It seemed that it was his turn to ponder. After a long moment, he said, “That interests me. What would you say is the source of your satisfaction? What is it about this work that you find satisfying?” She loo