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first_meeting [2015/03/05 06:48] (current)
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|+||====== First Metting ======|
|+||He wasn’t nervous. Nervousness is about self-preservation, concern for safety. No, the feeling inside him was quite the opposite. It was exhilaration, thrill at the risk of meeting a true dominant sadist. She told him to meet her at a West Village bar. Good. Somewhere she’d be comfortable. They recognized one another just outside the door. She led him all the way to the back room, dark and isolated, motioned for him to share a sofa. Even better. His imagination began to run free there in the cushioned privacy. The woman was beautiful, tall, and strong. Friendly yet a little cautious. He answered her very first question before it was spoken - he had found her blog by clicking through her post on another site. It was clear she was being careful not to spook the prey. How could he tell her that he was already imprinted and wide open to her? He described a science fiction story, “The Perfect Mate.” A person is created solely to bond perfectly with an intended betrothed, to internalize and satisfy all the desires of the betrothed. He hoped thus to let her know that while she might move carefully, he was already caught. She asked more questions, listened carefully, understood and related to his experiences. She shared her own life story. They joked and laughed together, and talked about many aspects of a Mistress-slave relationship. Other guests began to fill the back room and if some caught drift of their conversation, only an occasional smile betrayed that knowledge. She asked about his post on gags; silence, yes, and helpless drool, but best of all, he wrote, once a gag is in place, there are no safewords. This led to her belief in RACK, not SSC. He was so grateful that she required total control. She had written to him about interrogation, about making him tell her where he hid the microfiche. He said he would tell her right away, so they could both focus on enjoying a long hard interrogation itself. From interrogation, the conversation turned to tasers and other electric toys. Along the way, she revealed she enjoyed not only the sound and pain of various implements, but the beautiful marks on skin they left behind. Responding to her question on his slavery, he told her about the kite. It may seem, he said, that the string holds the kite down. A child might want to cut the string to set the kite free. But in fact, it is the very tension in the string that lets the kite fly. Cut it, and the kite flutters to the ground. He then handed her a short length of rope, a token, in case she ever wanted to set him free. If any of the neighbors had suspected their mutual interests, the rope in her hand removed all doubt. She asked about his own desires. In reply, he described the “Stepford boyfriend.” Eager to please, with built-in defaults as to what might gratify the typical woman. Those ideas were there only as placeholders until she made her own personal tastes known to him. Invited to offer his own questions, he asked if she preferred the art of shibari, or cruel effectiveness of handcuffs. She laughed and replied she enjoyed both equally. She also liked buckle straps so she could hang a slave by the wrists. When he inquired, she assured him they locked, and the clips were out of reach as well. She also owns a straitjacket and sjambok. He asked if the straitjacket might cover up too much of the body. She replied it was for times she wished to work over a slave from the waist down. To show her that everything was hers to take, he was careful to betray all possible defenses. He told her about the “masochist’s secret.” If a masochist gets in trouble with a sadist, the trick is to lie still, stop struggling, do nothing to arouse the sadist’s further violence. Telling her about that trick, he could never then use it; she knew and he would have no escape. Instead, he told her, he had a different challenge-how to display enough to gratify her sadist’s desires and trigger lust for more, but not so much as to ever make her relent. When they left the bar, she took out a pack of cigarettes. She had mentioned she smoked so he made sure to have matches; he leaned forward swiftly to offer her a light. They walked for a while, enjoying the cool night. As they rode the train together, he offered his hand to her. She wrapped the rope around his thumb, playing with him. When they parted, he waited on the platform for the train to leave, his bare wrists crossed before him. She waved goodbye, the rope in her hand.|