vanillaimnot

The Pianist

A few years ago I accepted a short-term corporate assignment in the Atlanta area that required a significant amount of commuting over a 5-6 month period.  While commuting, I met an interesting and as it turned out, a very talented young lady from the area.  She was in her mid-30 I would guess, and over time, we developed an intense D/S relationship.  She was attractive, was thick in all the right places and was very experienced in the BDSM arts.  She was a young looking MILF and always dressed tastefully and appropriately for the occasion.  Though she was much younger than I, we had a lot in common, both in and out of the lifestyle, and we hit it off pretty well.  Although we were both very busy with our professional lives we managed to see it each other often.

Last month I returned to the Atlanta area and stayed at the same hotel where we usually met. I was reminiscing about our relationship later that evening.  As I was recalling the events of that remarkable night, I thought I would author a short story and share it with others.  The evening I’m referring to was one of the most intense, erotic, and challenging encounters of my BDSM life experiences and, frankly, pushed my limits as a dominant.  The story is true, without any embellishment from the author, and is not intended to titillate, sensationalize or otherwise over-dramatize the events of that evening, though I do admit to adding some graphically descriptive color to enhance readership.  For those interested in reading non-fictional accounts of BDSM activity, it’s simply a true story about one extraordinary evening between this dominant and his submissive, however extreme it may sound to someone not in the lifestyle.  Perhaps some of my readers may in some way relate to the physical as well as the psychological aspects of what I would label as a BDSM docu-drama.  While this experience took place a number of years ago, the details of that evening are indelibly etched in my mind to this day.  So, here’s my story:

As was usually the case when I met with this lady, the evening began with dinner and a glass of wine at the hotel restaurant.  While personally an aficionado of fine wine, I don’t over-indulge when engaged in BDSM play.  When we could arrange to get together, she would oftentimes come prepared with some of our favorite toys.  To complement a particular role-play scenario we would have mapped out in advance she would bring along appropriate fetish clothing to change into.  When she arrived this evening she was impeccably dressed as usual.  She came dressed in professional business attire, wearing a lovely white blouse, above the knee skirt, nude-colored thigh-high stockings and low heels.  The bra she wore was very flimsy permitting me a peek at her nipples through the blouse.  She knew I would like that and she took great pains to please me.  After finishing dinner, we headed up to my hotel room where she promptly excused herself to use the restroom facilities and freshen-up.  When she exited the bathroom and reached for her bag of tricks, I was surprised to see that she pulled out a portable disc player and proceeded to insert a disc into the player.  She asked me if I would like to listen to a piano recording she made a number of years ago.  Of course, I agreed, and was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the recording.  What I heard was a beautiful rendition of a classical piano piece recorded by an amazing and talented musician and told her how much I enjoyed listening to her performance.  We both had a bit of a love affair with music and spoke about it often, but she never mentioned she was an accomplished, if not professional pianist.  She thanked me for my compliment and went on to tell me she spent many years in her youth studying classical piano.  As she continued to speak about her love of music during this particular phase of her life, she choked up a little bit and had a strange and somewhat despondent look on her face, a look that may have suggested she had regrets about not continuing her studies.  Since I’m not a shrink, I didn’t want to push the subject further, concerned I might unleash some painful memories, so I remained silent while she continued to speak about her piano lessons as a child.  Though not overly-melancholy or depressed, I sensed that something was amiss and asked her if she was okay and if she wanted to proceed with our planned evening.  She said yes, but had other ideas regarding our previously planned role-play and asked if we could adapt to a different scenario to better match her present mindset.  Not sure I understood what she meant by that comment or what she had in mind, but I’m quite adaptable to various BDSM role-play scenarios, so I wasn’t concerned about my ability to adapt to a different scenario.  In addition to her strained facial expressions, there was an unmistakably somber mystery to her speech that didn’t sound like anything that came from the same person I had come to know.  As I began to think about how I might initiate activities that evening, I thought I’d play it safe, at least initially, and begin with a spanking, but not our usual OTK variety.  From there, I would play it by ear and see what develops within her and where it might lead. 

She adored corporal spankings and liked to be punished by force.  So, I began play by taking her by the hand and leading her to a bare wall adjourning the bathroom.  While grabbing her by the hair, I forced her down to her knees facing the wall and, off of our pre-planned script, told her I was going to punish her not granting my role-play wish (had to come up with something since she torpedoed my original plan).  I knelt down beside her, had her lift her skirt and began spanking her with my bare hand.  Knowing how she craves extended spanking sessions, I began at a light and sensual rhythm, and then picked up the intensity level.  When I got to moderate intensity, which was nowhere near her normal pain threshold, tears began to well-up in her eyes.  This was very unusual, I thought, as she never reacted to a spanking in this way before.  She was, in fact, a disciple of strict disciplinary punishment and didn’t like me to stop until her ass was fiery and beet red.  But this time was different; tears were evident way too soon.  Her tears gave me pause and thought that I should give her a break and provide her some pleasure before resuming the spanking.  While still in our kneeling positions, I reached around the front of her body and brought my hand up her legs and inside her panties and was preparing to massage her clit.  She cherished the occasions when I would roughly slide her panties to the side and finger her pussy.  It was often practiced when I would put her in bondage.  For her, it was exceedingly erotic to be violated in that manner.  However, as I was preparing to finger her pussy, she uncharacteristically pleaded not yet, “I want pain”.  With that said, I re-started the spanking with smack after smack landing progressively harder on her ass until real tears were flowing down her face.  “Don’t stop, more pain” she exclaimed, as my hand kept pounding her ass.  She was now in full-blown crying mode.  Taken aback by her emotions, I felt it necessary to stop the spanking and let her regain her composure.  I reminded her of her safe word though she never had to use it before.  She provided no response to my subtle suggestion, however.

Based on her emotional response to the spanking, I brought her up from her knees, and while holding her, asked if she had enough.  After a spanking she would often enjoy breast play, pussy-cropping, blindfolds, bondage and mild floggings, but I wasn’t sure she could handle any of this given the extreme spanking I just administered.  So, to be safe, I thought I’d simply ask “did you have enough”.  “Do you want to submit to the flogger”?  Again, no response, but it soon became patently clear she had other thoughts concerning her submission activities that night.  Without saying a word, she led me into the bathroom.  She was in deep subspace and wondered what she had planned for the next phase of our play.  She removed her skirt, blouse, and bra and placed them neatly on the sink.  She was now wearing only her stockings, heels and panties.  She then reached for my pants, unbuckled my belt, slowly slid the belt through the loops and handed the belt to me, and said, “This is the answer to your questions, sir”.  She went over to the sink to wet a wash cloth and placed it on the top of the shower rod.  She raised her arms high above her head and onto the shower rod, positioning both hands side-by-side on the rod.  In a whispered, but commanding voice, she told me further punishment was necessary and pleaded for me to whip her with the belt.  What a strange twist to a D/S relationship, I thought – here was a submissive effectively commanding, no demanding, a specific activity from her dominant.  Frankly, I found it extremely erotic, but thought her demand was a strange act of role reversal.  Earlier in our relationship she confessed that whipping was an activity she had been curious about but never acted upon.  Perhaps this was intended to be experimental on her part.  As a dominant, I’m adept with floggers and whips, but I had never belt-whipped any of my submissive partners prior to this.  As most skilled dominants would understand, I was concerned about her welfare did not want to do any harm.  My lack of experience in this particular brand of CP was a genuine concern.  However, I was convinced my pianist submissive definitely wanted the belt-whipping and had trust in me to perform in a skilled manner.  Reassured, at least in my mind, I proceeded with caution and some degree of trepidation.  I knew now what she meant by her assertion to adapt our previous role-play scenario, and I was going to ensure she would soon get what she wanted.  But first, I wanted to take in the scene.  She looked mindboggling, her arms strung up over her head, the curves of her breast barely visible from behind, but tantalizing, her ass and pussy provocatively hidden from view.  She was helpless and waiting with apprehension to be punished like never before.  Her submissive pose is a sight I’ll have in my head for a long time.       

With the belt hanging full length at my side, I wrapped the belt buckle around my fist to shorten the tail to about 20 inches in length.  The shorter tail would prevent the very painful wrap-around effect of the lashes.  With her hands now firmly gripping the shower rod, I began the whipping, first at low intensity, careful with my aim.  I wanted to deliver the punishment she wanted, but not seriously hurt her or leave permanent markings.  After 5 carefully placed lashes, I increased the intensity to moderate level and the tears began to flow once again.  As I reached 10, I picked up the pace again and her tears now turned to sobbing, but she showed no sign of uttering her safe word.  On the contrary, after each stroke she would command with relish another lash.  I got her to 15 and she was now writhing in pain.  At this point, she asked me to stuff the wet wash cloth in her mouth to muffle her cries.  Since she was no longer able to verbally communicate, I told her the cloth would serve as her safe word and should spit it out when she reached her pain threshold.  Number 16, then 17 landed across her back bringing her to the brink of her threshold, and by the time number 19 landed there was full-blown moaning and weeping as she spit the cloth gag out.  Her pain had consumed her.   

When the whipping was over, I put the pianist in bed, removed her stockings and panties and lay down beside her to comfort her.  Though her punishment was over, she was still crying uncontrollably from the experience.  She had diagonal markings on her back from the whipping and her ass was a pretty shade of pink from the spanking; fortunately and thankfully they disappeared in a few days as I later learned.  I’m not sure what this special night brought out in her.  Certainly she was not herself.  I didn’t know whether her desire for that level of play was related to a piano career gone unfulfilled or just to satisfy her long-held curiosity about an activity she had longed to experiment with.  It was a somewhat dark episode for both of us and for that reason we didn’t talk very often about what happened that night, but for me, it was a special BDSM experience, albeit punctuated with heavy intensity and deep psychological drama.  Our play time was not yet over, however.  More fun was to be had and it was as intense as her beating.

When the pianist gained full control of her emotions, she turned to me and said “I would like you to ravish my cunt and eat me out good, please, sir”.  I loved to hear her speak in that graphic manner and she knew it.  She constantly wanted to please and I would try hard not to disappoint.

I placed her on her back, opened her legs and slowly moved up her legs to her joy box.  Surprisingly, at least to me, her pussy was not yet wet, as had always been the case after our BDSM play.  Clearly, she had not experienced any sexual gratification from our D/S experience.  She was usually a pain slut during our play and could easily be aroused sexually in her submissive role, but not that night.  I was eager to change all this; it was now her time for pleasure and I was going to enthusiastically provide it.  I covered her body all the way up to her neck as she lay in bed.  She loved being “unwrapped” so to speak.  I slowly, methodically, and neatly folded down the blanket just enough to expose her breasts.  One breast at a time, my mouth engulfed her nipples nibbling ever so lightly until they were firm.  I continued sucking and nibbling her nipples to her delight until they were standing at attention.  Surely by now her pussy was getting wet, I thought.  She began to grind against my cock, encouraging a move further south.  At her urging, I continued to unfold the blanket, this time down to just above her cunt.  I purposely restricted full access to her pussy by shutting her legs tight.  While straddling her now closed legs, I pulled the blanket down just a little further until the top of her slit was exposed.  I gently pulled her pussy back toward her torso to expose a partially covered pussy.  She squirmed and moaned as my tongue moved up and down to the exposed area of her pussy.  I paid special attention to her clit as my tongue licked in circular motion.  Her pussy was no longer dry as I removed the remaining covers to observe her now soaked pussy.  Without prompting, she spread her legs wide in anticipating of more oral gratification.  She moaned as I got down on her and lifted her legs over my shoulders.  Using both hands, I spread her labia open to view her vaginal canal, and started a prolonged and messy pussy-eating session.  I injected my tongue deeply into her offing cunt, alternatively darting my tongue in and out, then gently sucking her clit until waves of orgasms engulfed her.  I loved the smell and taste of her cunt and stayed down on her for as long as possible as her sweet pussy juices were gushing down her olive skinned thighs and her body convulsed in exhilaration.  Instinctively, I thought about fisting her as this was one of her favorite, if not sometimes painful, finishes.  As I thought back to her earlier punishment, a potentially painful fisting might be saved for another day.  So, I reached into her bag and pulled out her Hitachi wand, a personal favorite of her many toys.  Explosion after explosion and it was all over for her.  She couldn’t take any more.  What a night!  What a great lady!  That evening’s experience definitely makes my top 10 list of all-time BDSM moments. 

The pianist had one more first-time request:  She asked me to kiss her deeply so she could taste her own cum.  She then asked me to masturbate and cum all over her face, which I gladly complied with.  It didn’t take long for me to explode as my cock had been throbbing since we began our adventure.  I came quickly and deposited a large wad of cum on her face.  She smirked and with her index finger, glided my cum off her face and onto her tongue.  She took great pleasure in swallowing my cum and wanted to have to taste both of our juices at the same time.  To ensure she got it all, she pulled my cock into her mouth, licked it clean, and swallowed my remaining cum with a sense of great personal accomplishment.  She never failed to please me. 

I valued my time with this very special and gifted pianist and I won’t soon forget our special relationship, particularly that evening.  The level of CP intensity she demanded that evening was never again repeated.

The pianist and I spent the remaining night in bed and slept very well.

End of story. 

Epilogue:  The pianist has since moved to California where I eventually lost contact with her.  Hopefully, she’ll be one of my readers and recognize herself in my story.  I hope so; I took great pains to write a factual and detailed account of that evening which she undoubtedly would quickly recognize.

They say a woman’s body is a beautiful work of art.  They, whoever they may be, are so correct.  Women are the sexiest of creatures when clad in feminine garments, particularly submissive attire.  In my view, a partially clad women is preferable to seeing the woman totally naked, at least at first glance.  I often like to pleasure women while they are still wearing some articles of clothing.  It’s a real turn-on.  I’m not much of a fashion guru, but I know what excites me and it is women who know how to dress appropriately for  any occasion, including for BDSM play.  Stockings, garter belts perfectly accent a woman’s legs and makes one imagine, indeed desire, what’s waiting at the top and center of her legs.  It is especially titillating when the top of the stocking is just peeping out from under the skirt.  What an amazing, sensual view of the legs.  Nude color stockings are the best.  This clothing fetish I have accentuates my thirst for BDSM behavior.  I delight at the sight of a woman stripped to the waist and strung up over a door and bound with wrist door jams.  From the waist down, she is dressed in a skirt (for easy pussy access), wearing heels and stockings, thus complementing my vision of the perfectly attired submissive.  With arms stretched high over her the head and bound by cuffs and with her feet barely touching the floor, the submissive is totally under control, something all dominants command.  Bound and helpless, I fantasize about what’s going on under her skirt and inside her panties, but there is no hurry to find out, as a very close and personal visit will surely follow.  With this portrait before me, I mentally consume her. 

To take full advantage of her submission, I turn her around to face the door, exposing her soft and inviting bare back.  While in this position, I’m still able to see a side-view of the front of her body, including breasts and nipples and could play with them at will.  A provocative pose likened to the “damsel in distress”, a very stimulating vision of a helpless and compliant damsel.

With my appetite now wetted, I’ll move to the next phase of D/S play where my submissive will give me the gift of her submission and I will generously reward that gift.

The Lady at the Bar – Final Chapter

This is part 3 of a 3-part story.  I invite you to first read Chapters 1 and 2 below.

I allowed enough time for my lady’s mind to wander about all the delightful possibilities I had in store for her.  And, I took a moment to once again soak-in this lovely lady.  Her breast exposed, back leaning up against the wall, legs parted ever so slightly and stretching against the inner linings of her skirt.  I asked her if she felt sure she was up to this.  I didn’t think she really understood what might be coming, but she wanted to brave-on nonetheless.

One of my favorite starter toys I carry around in my black bag is the Wartenberg Pinwheel.  A newbie submissive would not know of this, but when experienced, they would wonder whether it was intended for pleasure or pain since it emits both.  Was it a playful knife?  Was it a series of pins pinching the surface of the skin?  Surely the pinwheel would provide a sensation my lady had never experienced before and I was anxious to use it on her and see her reaction.  The wheel brings the skin to life and the blood closer to the skin surface, a perfect prelude to a BDSM corporal encounter.  A lovely device indeed; it get the juices flowing for more advanced play.      

Before moving into serious BDSM play, her nipples needed to be readied for the wheel.  As I noted, her nipples were large, but were not yet fully erect for what I had in mind.  I took my index finger and thumb and gently touched the tips of her nipples until they began to enlarge.  My mouth clenched down on each nipple, lightly biting and sucking until each nipple was firm and fully erect.  When I finished preparation, her nipples resembled Playtex nursers.  I slowly moved the wheel in deliberate fashion up and down and crisscrossing each breast, careful to avoid the sensitive areola or nipple areas.  I could tell that her sensations were conspicuously uncomfortable and enjoyable at the same time.  I continued working the wheel on her, this time inching ever so closely to her areola area and finally reaching her now firm nipples.  I moved the wheel down her breasts, this time crossing directly over her nipples, then I reversed course for the trip northward over her nipples again.  I repeated this journey from east to west, each time intensifying the pressure to the nipple area.  She tensed and was now standing on her toes trying to avoid the strange sensations she was feeling.  Since I brought two wheels I’ll doube her pleasure, simultaneously rolling the wheels up and down both breasts, stopping at the nipple area for extra attention.  She shrieked in her discomfort and I warned her more punishment was coming.  I gave her one last chance to have this stopped, but she meekly consented to continue.

As I complimented her on her evening attire, I told her she would look even better if she wore some special jewelry I brought with me.  It’s time I elevated her playtime, I thought.  With her nipples now firmly erect from the wheel play, I took a pair of alligator clamps out of my bag, and gently placed them on each nipple, allowing the clamp to slowly bite down on the nipple.  When the clamp came down to full closure, she twitched and winced in pain.  I thought for a moment she would use her safe word, but she was a trooper and would continue to bear the pain.  I encouraged her to accept the pain and reassured her pain would dissipate in time and to have trust in me.  She clenched her jaw as I told her how proud I was of her.  She appeared contented and seemed to want to please me.  I told her I would remove the clamps in time, but first……...

In this moment of distress, I thought I would provide some sexual gratification to help her through the pain and to give her a sense of well-being.  I reached up under her skirt and touched her warm inner thigh, then slowly moved my hand upwards.  She sighed as she anticipated my next move.  As I knew from past encounters, her panties would be wet and her pussy lips would be open for invitation.  She squirmed as my two-finger touch was greeted with gasping gratification.  As I slid her panties to the side I was greeted to a nicely trimmed mound.  I roughly grabbed the bottom side of her panties and in one violent thrust firmly yanked them down over her ass and down to her thighs where they would settle.  Her panties were now down to thigh level, her pussy exposed, and she must have been wondering what was next.  I warned her not to allow her panties to drop to the floor as I wanted to impose upon her a deeper understanding of disciplined behavior.

At this stage of her submission, I removed her blindfold and told her she would need to witness the next phase of her submission.  Again, I went into my bag, and this time pulled out a leather crop.  I showed her the crop and teased her about what was coming.  Fear engulfed her face as she imagined the worst and pleaded for me not to whip the clamps off her nipples.  I had no intention of doing that, but wanted her to think about that possibility for a while.  She seemed relieved when I told her I wasn’t going to whip them off; however, I couldn’t imagine she’d understand just how painful it was going to be to remove the clamps.  I removed the first clamp and she shrieked in agony as the pain shot down from her nipple to her groin area.  Her face was now filled with great trepidation.  Then I removed the second clamp and got the same reaction.  After giving her time to regain her composure, I flaunted the crop in her face and told her she would endure a breast-whipping.  I began lightly striking one of her breast, then increasing the intensity along the way until her breast turned ruby red.  I repeated whipping her other breast with the same low to medium to heavy impact.  Convinced that she had by then fully recovered from the alligator clamps, I began to crop her nipples.  As I finished nipple-cropping her, I sensed she was beginning to accept her submission.  She certainly was not the same congenial lady I met at the bar earlier in the evening.   It is quite common for hard-driving business people with senior executive responsibility and power in the corporate world to want to relinquish control and be submissive to their bed partners.  Not quite through with her torment, I pulled a short leather whip from my bag.  It was an eighteen-tail cat measuring around 22 inches in length.  With the whip in one hand and the crop in another, I started to flog her breasts in Florentine-style fashion.  This is a difficult technique I had learned over the years and it doesn’t grant any pauses in the whipping action.  There is constant impact play.  One breast feels the sting of the whip, and then simultaneously, the other breast is absorbing the stroke of the crop.  The Florentine action did serve to get her endorphins flowing, much as I had hoped.  My lady had now reached a critical point in her BDSM experience and her mind was firmly in a submissive state.  I softly whispered “it’s the time for the finale”.

I told her now was the time to close her legs and allow her panties to fall to the ground, which she gladly consented to do.  I detached her cuffs and told her to remove what was left of her blouse and bra.  She proceeded to completely strip to the waist and stood there bare-breasted clothed only in her skirt and shoes.  Firmly pulling down on her hair, I forced her to her knees, pulled my cock out of my pants and ordered her to suck it.  I was literally fucking her mouth, cupping my hand around the back of her head, careful not to bang her head against the wall.  I demanded to cum within three minutes or I would repeat her ordeal, only more severely.   With that said she swallowed my cock with passion and enthusiasm and sucked it until I came hard in her mouth.  To her credit, she didn’t need the three minute ultimatum I gave her.  An obedient submissive is richly rewarded, I told my lady.  So I reached down and took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom area.  I took a pillow from the bed and placed it on the bed’s corner edge where I told her to sit.  I leaned her back on the bed and stretched her arms out wide and marveled again at her gorgeous breasts.  I then took another pillow and placed it on the floor at her feet where I could comfortably kneel to pleasure her.  I lifted her skirt up over her ass, spread her legs wide and slightly tilted backward, and ate her sweet cunt out until my jaws tired.  She squirmed, her pelvic area bucked up and down, and she encouraged me with her moans of excitement.  Her orgasms were long, powerful, and numerous.  

The lady at the bar had passed her BDSM submission exam with flying colors.  I wouldn’t call her a convert, but she clearly was no longer a plain vanilla type of gal. 

End of story

Epilogue:  This is a true story only minimally editorialized for dramatic presentation.  And, the lady at the bar and I have stayed in touch over the years, and still see each other as our schedules permit.

The Lady at the Bar -- Part 2

As we both left the pub I couldn’t help but reflect on this lady’s sudden outburst.  Was she really a closet BDSM’er who suddenly emerged?  Did I oversell/overhype the lifestyle?  Perhaps it was just the wine talking?  Maybe it was simple curiosity?  I couldn’t tell, but she appeared super enthusiastic about trying a flavor different than vanilla.  I wondered if she would really enjoy the BDSM arts.  I thought I would take things slowly and she how she responds.

Since I hadn’t yet checked into the hotel, I suggested we drive over in my car.  As we drove up to the hotel and parked the car, I took my travel valise from the trunk and followed her up to her 10^th floor suite.  The lady had checked-in earlier and I had yet to check-in. 

As we entered the room, she asked to excuse herself and went into the bathroom.  She came out a few moments later, and before she moved much further, I pressed her up against a wall in the living quarters of her suite.  Your journey starts now, I said to her in a soft but commanding manner.  You are now entering my world where I call all the shots.  With that said, I told her to remove her blazer and drop it to the floor where she stood.  I told her she would also be required to part her legs when in my presence.  She did so as much as her pencil skirt allowed.  I suddenly grabbed her by the hair and gently forced her head against the wall while crudely caressing her still covered breasts.  Then without warning, and with both hands, I tore open her blouse, buttons flying everywhere.  In one motion, I pulled her open blouse and bra straps down and across her shoulders, thus immobilizing her arms.  I went into my valise and pulled out a long black case that I always travel with filled with my favorite BDSM toys.  Inside the case was a very nice pair of leather cuffs which I used to bind her wrists behind her back.  I secured them together with a metal clasp.  Now with both her arms and hands firmly immobilized, I intuitively sensed a feeling of helplessness and, perhaps a little bit of fear, for this first time submissive.  It was clear she hadn’t been subjected to this type of sadistic foreplay before, so it was easy to understand her anxious state of mind.  Her breasts were not yet completely dislodged from her bra from my earlier rough play and I eagerly waited to catch sight of her nipples.  By now, her breathing quickened and her breasts were heaving as I removed one breast at a time from her cups, exposing exceptionally large nipples for what I guessed to be C-cup sized breasts.  Her nipples were not yet firm and fully erect, but I would see to that later.  What a beautiful sight, I thought, as her breasts were practically standing straight out supported only by the underside of her still clipped bra.  An improvised breast bondage technique I was pleased with.  As she stood there with her chest fully exposed, I told her she was going to get what she asked for, and what I believe she deserved.  Without any prompting, she bowed her head and said “yes sir”, as if she already was schooled with the proper response.   

I went back into my toy bag and pulled out a black mask.  I told her it would be best if she didn’t see what was to happen as she was new to the scene.  I placed the mask over her eyes and stepped back as she fretfully contemplated what was coming next.  Her body actions communicated expectation, excitement and fear of the unknown – and that’s precisely the emotions I wanted to invoke.  I paused for a moment to take in my handiwork and marvel at her naked bosom.  

In planning the next phase of her journey into submission, I deliberately took my time rustling around inside my bag as I wanted her to ponder what new toys I had with me and what activities I might have planned.  I’m sure she was somewhat familiar with BDSM, having been well-read in so many other areas; nonetheless, I wanted to give her plenty of time to think about all the possibilities and whether she thought she was up to the challenge.  As with all my play partners, I whispered her safe word and left the immediate area.  The lady would not have long to wait, however, the fun had just begun.

End of Part 2

The Lady at the Bar -- Part 1

Arrived for my next day business meeting a little early and decided to stop at a close-by local pub for a nice glass of wine and a bite to eat before checking into my hotel.  It was early in the evening, but the place was crowded and quite lively.  When dining alone, I prefer to sit at the bar, watch some sports on TV, and perhaps chat with the bartender.  If I’m lucky the bartender would be a hot female. 

On this busy night there was only one unoccupied seat at the bar, so I quickly sat down before someone else did, not noticing at first a nicely-dressed, professional looking woman sitting next to me.  She appeared to be in her 40’s, very polished and alone.  Being the polite gentleman I am, I asked if she would mind if I sat next to her, to which she smiled “no problem”.  She was not an overly attractive woman, but was pleasing to the eye and height-weight proportionate.  I’m no Adonis myself.  Nevertheless, there was something about her that attracted me.  She was a sophisticated lady, exuded confidence and intelligence, and like me, appeared to be successful in business.  She wore a blue blazer with a tastefully matching pencil skirt.  Underneath her blazer was a pretty white button-down blouse with full sleeves.  She also wore subtle cologne and smelled like she just got out of the shower.  Perhaps she did.

I wanted to know more about her.  Just a hunch, but I thought I would enjoy talking to her.  We started the conversation with the proverbial small talk about where we come from, have we been here before, did we know other places to dine, etc.  During the course of our conversation I learned she was a senior corporate executive from a well-known firm and was there on business for a few days to teach behavioral problems in the workplace to a bunch of junior managers.  She was already sipping a glass of white wine when the bartender (male, damn it) came over to ask me what I wanted to order.  I’m a red wine kind of a guy, so I ordered their best glass of cabernet sauvignon along with some munchies that I asked the lady to join me in.  We talked about anything and everything under the sun, including sports, politics, world affairs, and business.  It was fun, and as expected, she showed her intellect and was well versed on a number of subjects.  As the night wore on, the subject matter was getting more personal.  We shared war stories regarding our past romantic episodes, boyfriends/girlfriends, husbands and wives, etc.  I was careful to steer clear of my BDSM interests; we all know how that can put an end to an otherwise delightful conversation with someone we don't really know very well.  However, after another glass of wine, I thought, what the hell, I’ll give it a shot.  Perhaps, if I could subtly introduce the subject matter by equating it to management/subordinate relationships routinely found in the corporate world, it might be viewed as less objectionable.  At least then, I could judge her reactions to my aapproach before trying to delve further.  Guess what, it worked!

I explained that after many years in the vanilla world, I thought I’d try something different about 15 years ago, something that I always fantasized about earlier in life, but never act upon.  As I told her more about my dark side, she seemed intrigued and wanted to know more.  In fact, she was noticably responsive and truly wanted to better understand the psychological aspects of BDSM and role-playing.  She did not understand that special relationship that D’s have with S’s, the trust that is earned, and the gift of one’s submission.  While not a practitioner herself, she confided that she had similar fantasies that were never acted upon; a desire to be bound, punished, and forced to commit unusual sexual acts.  Fantasies yes, but she could never bring herself to believe these were normal mainstream sexual choices and not acts of perversion she had been always believed.  She said she had always been very conservative when it came to sexual practices for fear of rejection and humiliation.  Yet, she wanted to know more.  She pressed me harder for more specifics about my brand of BDSM.  I quietly explained more about how a submissive can turn dominant, role switches, pain and endorphins, safe words, etc., but not much else about my preferences.  I said it appeared as though our conversation might have opened up a whole new world for her.  She nodded sheepishly, thinking deeply.  I referred her to some books, videos, and websites for more information if she were interested. 

After finishing up our wine, and paying the tab, she asked if I wouldn’t mind walking her back to her hotel as it was dark then and getting late.  I agreed --- then in a spontaneous unlady-like manner, she blurted out that she wanted tonight to explore BDSM and submit to her unfulfilled fantasy.  No need for me to say more; we both knew what that meant.

Stay tuned for Part 2.