My BDSM Dilema
Never again will I drink wine when I go online. I worry I may be in trouble. I just don’t know.
The other night I was drinking this really delicious merlot and listening to music when I went online. The second glass of wine made me braver than usual and I made some comment in a chat room when a guy said something about how he liked to tie a woman’s elbows behind her back. That brought back memories for me and I said something that attracted his interest.
He had come online to find a woman for what he called extreme bondage and rough sex, not just bondage and sex, but extreme and rough. And he found me.
By the third glass of wine he knew my name, where I live, and, of course, my bra size.
I gave him too much personal information, too many revealing photos. He is like a salesman with his foot in the door and he is not going to accept no easily. He senses I am vulnerable. By the end of the first night he knew my name, where I worked and, of course, my bra size. He is like a dog that had caught the scent
of its prey.
He says he knows I want to do it. And he is right. Part of me does, but a very real part of me is afraid.
The next morning I have an email from him:
“When you mentioned your elbows tied tightly behind you, it did something to me because I am very into that — elbows cinched behind the back pulling the shoulders back and forcing the chest out. I like the look, the total helplessness and the total access to my partner/victim. I have been into bondage for over 30 years and I have had a lot of experience over that time and the more intense the better.”
My eyes focus on the word “victim” in his email. For some reason it is exciting. I am playing with fire here.
He is online the next night waiting for me to log on. He has my phone number now and he figured out my address. I am getting scared, but also excited. He has done all sorts of research on me. To reassure me, he gives me phone numbers for his office and his home. He wants me to check him out. He is a businessman who has a lot to lose, he says. I should trust him.
He is so insistent, so persuasive. It is so ridiculous. I do not believe I feel so defensive about not being willing to go to Manhattan so a stranger can tie me up and have rough sex, but when I talk to him he makes my reluctance seem so silly, like any woman would do that.
He is losing patience with me. He has invested his time in me. If I don’t commit soon, he says he will go look for another, more willing woman. I will lose him. I do not think I am a poseur. I really want to find the right situation. He is just so extreme and rough. He is so incredibly exciting. Our nightly Internet conversations have been so intense. Just chatting with him leaves me excited all day. I cannot believe I am considering this, but I am. I feel so naive and stupid. This man is out of my league. I had a boyfriend after high school who liked to tie me up when we made love, but he is not anything like this guy. This guy is so serious, so extremely serious, about it. When my boyfriend wanted to tie me up I was terrified at first and he was so patient with me. My boyfriend started out just wrapping a scarf around my wrists so we could pretend. Then he moved on to tie my wrists together and then, ultimately, he tied my arms back tighter and tighter until my elbows touched and he tied my ankles until I was hogtied. It was so wicked!
That was ten years ago. Now I am married with two kids and a house and I have run into this guy who says he goes around the country meeting women for one night of rough sex and very extreme bondage. He promises me a night I will never forget. I am afraid.
I worry he will stalk me. I have never been so reckless before. I tell myself it is a good sign that he has not called me even though he knows my phone number. And he seems to check out. He sent me photos of himself in a karate pose. He has a broad chest and deliciously big muscular forearms. He is clearly physically strong and definitely good looking. I do like him.
“Let me start making some sense out of this,” he tells me ever so patiently for the umpteenth time, “I want to meet you and have hot sex and place you into some of the tightest bondage situations you will ever experience.”
“Let’s talk about tight bondage because that is what this is all about,” he reminds me while we are chatting.
He wants me to meet him in a hotel in Manhattan for one night only. He has a business trip to New York City on his schedule and he wants me there then. He has no interest in ever seeing me again, not matter what. That is part of the deal. It is his strict rule. He says he has done this several times before. “I enjoy it sometimes and I don’t enjoy it other times. It depends on chemistry between the partners, but it is always exciting. The anticipation, the planning, the first meeting, the first gag inserted in an open willing mouth. Well you get my point.”
His words stay in my head. I cannot stop thinking of what he is proposing. “My only reason for wanting to meet you is because I want only to tie and gag you,” he tell me. “We would not be speaking if it were not. But would I go out with you if not for the bondage? I like what I see so far. You are smart, seemingly sincere, sensuous, and have a good sense of humor and let’s not forget you are pretty. My only goal is to have you completely immobile unable to move or speak or see or hear in my hotel room and available for anything I want to do to you sexually.”
At least he is honest.
Every time we chat, he has new reason why I should agree to meet him. And he has a counter to every worry I raise. He says I can go back to the boring life of housewife and when I am old and fat I can look back at this one incredible adventure. If I don’t, he says I will always regret it.
I am wrestling with myself. It is not an easy decision. For some reason, I really want to go to him. But the practical side of me looks at my life, my house and kids and I realize it is just ridiculous. I am constantly on the verge of just saying yes once and for all. I know another glass of wine the next time we chat would tip the scales.
He is not online when I log on, though. I am frantic. I wait until past midnight for him, but he does not show up. The next morning I frantically check my email, but there is only spam. I send him a little email. I miss him more than I expected. Part of me knows he is playing me, that this is part of his strategy. I cannot deny it works. He is a great salesman. He knows how to close a deal.
He has me dreaming of myself with my elbows cranked back, shoulders back, chest out, and him hovering over me menacingly. I cannot move. All I can do is beg him with my eyes. Just like he promised.
It was a wonderful dream.
He is not letting me have much time to decide. He says the clock is ticking. He sent me an email this morning that just said “tick tock.”
