Some years ago, I published a novel called Rachel from the Edge which included a lot of bondage. I came to love Rachel and found the bondage scenes embarrassing. I eventually cut most of them. This short story is a rewritten version of a removed segment. The characters are over 18 years old.
* * * * * *
"What is this about Michael's playroom?" the ex-wife asked.
"You must know about that?" Jenny said, now the new girlfriend.
"No, I don't. Bondage?" Tricia answered.
They were lunching on the sidewalk of a popular Westwood bistro, the late summer day warm.
"I'm not comfortable talking about this" Jenny said.
"It's just us girls," Tricia pressed.
"You've been so nice to me since Mike and I got together. I appreciate that."
"There's no reason we can't be friends."
"Okay, I'll talk about it. But you've been warned. Right?"
"Yes, dear, I've been warned."
Tricia was in her mid-forties now, still trim, but her two-decade-long marriage to a successful venture capitalist was a thing of the past. Had been for several years. Jenny was in her early twenties, bright, vivacious, and very attractive. The dream of most middle-aged men seeking to recover their youth.
"Bondage is not something I did before meeting Michael," Jenny explained.
"How did he introduce it? Did he tell you to strip naked and let him tie you up?"
"Oh, no, nothing like that. He invited me back to his house on a Friday after work. I'd been spending a lot of time at the office, and Brentwood was a lot closer than my apartment in the Valley. Mike noticed I looked tired and said I should stay at his place."
"The Brentwood estate is very nice," Tricia said. "I'd have kept it in the divorce settlement if he hadn't offered the Malibu beach house instead."
"I don't know about that. My parents' farm in Ohio isn't especially fancy. Anyway, Mike said I looked worn-out. Distracted. It was true. I'd been running new account figures all week. He said he knew of something that would take my mind off things. We had been dating for several months by then, and I had heard rumors about his hobby. We had a candlelight dinner for two, an expensive bottle of wine, and then he said he wanted to tie me up. I considered saying no, but he looked so excited. There was an irresistible gleam in his eyes."
"You make it sound romantic."
"Oh, it was. It was so--well, Mike told me to take off my clothes and lie in the foyer with only a blanket, pretending to be sleeping. We had made love a few times and it was great, so it didn't seem unusual. Just harmless roleplaying. He disappeared and returned wearing a pirate outfit. Big leather boots. A sash with a cutlass. Skull and crossbones on his hat. He even had an eye-patch." Jenny laughed, a faraway look in her eyes.
"I struggled, but Mike snatched the blanket away from me, leaving me naked on the tile floor. Then he put leather cuffs on my wrists and announced that I was a prisoner of the buccaneers. He was going to take me back to his pirate ship and share me with his mateys. It was so embarrassing. Then he picked me up, but instead of going into the bedroom, he carried me downstairs into the basement."
"Weren't you afraid?"
"Oh, yes. Just being tied up is scary. When I realized he had turned the basement into a dungeon--"
Jenny shuddered. Tricia reached to steady her.
"You could have said no. Why didn't you?"
"In college, some of my classmates said I was a cold fish. Afraid to try anything new. I wanted to prove them wrong."
"It sounds so clinical."
"I worked hard in school to keep my scholarship. It was hard to socialize. Anyway, Mike had this playroom all set up with bondage equipment. Benches with ropes. A table with iron rings. There was a chain dangling from a beam. When I realized he was going to hang me from the ceiling, I tried to back away."
Jenny paused for a deep breath. Tricia pushed her half-filled margarita closer and signaled the waiter for two more.
"He raised my hands high over my head and attached the cuffs to the chain. I pulled and pulled but couldn't get loose."
"Didn't it hurt?" Tricia asked.
"I wasn't all the way off the ground. My toes could still touch. Then he put cuffs around my ankles and chained my feet to the floor so I couldn't kick him." Jenny laughed. Tricia was having difficulty seeing the humor.
"Mike walked around me, poking, tickling, watching me squirm. Every once in a while, he would say things like 'harr, I got ye now, girl' or 'ye in big trouble now, wench.' And then he opened a cabinet with whips and took out a cat of nine tails. No one had ever threatened to whip me before. I wouldn't have allowed it."
Tricia was quiet, listening carefully. Jenny had been frightened. Helpless and frightened. But that wasn't what her story was about.
"Ye be fetching a good price at the slave auction,' he said. 'Them's fine titties. Nice round ass fit for slapping. And other sport. We'll need to shave that bush. I gots me a man who does that, though the old drunkard be half blind.'
"Mike put a ball gag in my mouth, saying there would be no begging for mercy. He picked up the flogger and cracked it. It was so loud, it made me jump. When he cracked it again, I almost wet myself. He circled several times, and then stopped behind me, brushing my butt with the whip. I was breathing hard, fighting the cuffs.
"Time ta break ye in, wench,' he declared." The whip cracked as the cords struck me across the back. I screamed through the gag."
Tricia had her hands over her mouth, unable to understand how Jenny could be so calm.
"But something was off. I didn't feel any pain. Not much, anyway. The whip struck again, the sound louder than before, and I screamed again. But still, the pain I expected wasn't there. The third time he struck me, I barely felt it. Mike appeared in front of me. He took off the eyepatch and asked me if that was exciting. One thing for sure, I wasn't worrying about my account figures anymore.
"He continued using the flogger. Mostly on my butt and thighs. It didn't hurt. Not very much. Mostly I just flinched.
"Mike decided it was time to--he could be--well, you know. He's a full-grown man. He uncuffed my ankles, lifted my body off the floor, and lowered me on him. The sex was awkward but amazing. I'd never had an experience like that. Never even imagined it. When he exploded into me, I almost fainted.
"Mike went into the small bathroom, leaving me hanging. My legs were weak. He returned wearing street clothes. Slacks and a polo shirt. He came up to me, removed the gag, and asked if I'd had enough.
"Never,' I said, looking him in the eye."
Tricia laughed, able to visualize Jenny's feisty defiance.
"Mike looked so surprised that I wasn't angry. He hurried to remove the cuffs, cradled me in his arms, and carried me upstairs to the master bathroom. He bathed me, massaged me, applied ointments, and nibbled my neck until I made him stop. That night, we made love in the bedroom like normal people."
"You know, there are other ways to find physical exhilaration," Tricia said. "You could try bobsledding, or skydiving. Maybe Russian roulette."
"Now you tell me," Jenny said, smiling. Tricia smiled, too.
"You are so brave," Tricia said, squeezing her hand.
"You don't think less of me? For having done those things with Mike?"
"No, dear. I realize it was just for fun. To one degree or another, we all have a bit of exhibitionism in us. But I'm glad he chose you for his games instead of me. I would have wilted."
"Thank you. We don't usually speak publicly about our relationship. I think he's a little embarrassed that I'm so much younger than he is. And besides, you are the famous one, not me. You and Mike are the celebrity couple everyone talks about."
"I wouldn't say that. I've been seeing more stories lately about Mike & Jenny. At the beach. Boating. Movie premieres. I hardly get mentioned."
"I've only been on a red carpet once, and my dress was awful," Jenny complained.
The waiter brought the check. Tricia paid, rejecting Jenny's offer. The tip was generous.
"I have a favor to ask. Mike is still in New York, isn't he?" Tricia asked as they prepared to leave.
"Yes, for a few more days," Jenny confirmed.
"Can you show me this basement room he built? This dungeon?"
"Oh, gosh, I don't know."
"It was my house once, too. I'd like to see how he changed it. We are friends, aren't we?"
"Yes. Of course. When would you like to see it?"
"How about now?"
Tricia had a gold Mercedes Benz. Jenny drove a blue Honda Civic. The Brentwood estate was only ten minutes away, surrounded by a tall ivy-covered wall and a heavy gate. Jenny used her security pass to let Tricia in. The grounds had broad green lawns, trees, and a marble fountain.
"Still so beautiful," Tricia said. "Any servants today?"
"Oh, no. When Mike's out of town, I give them the days off," Jenny answered, leading the way into the huge house. "I don't need a lot of helpers running around waiting on me."
A moment later, they entered through the ten-foot-tall maple doors.
"Just as I remember it," Tricia said with a deep sigh, admiring the grand entry filled with exotic paintings and statues. The vast living room could entertain a hundred people. The elegant staircase led to balconies overlooking the ground floor and the pool yard. "This mansion belonged to movie stars in the old days. This whole neighborhood did. Not many movie stars live here anymore."
"That must have been before my time," Jenny responded.
"You must be excited to live in such a palace?" Tricia inquired.
"It's a bit much for me," Jenny admitted. "I wanted to keep my apartment in North Hollywood but Mike wouldn't let me."
"Where is this mysterious dungeon?" Tricia asked.
Jenny led her to the back of the mansion, past the kitchen and laundry room, to a staircase going under the house. There was a heavy door at the bottom.
"Mike doesn't want the help knowing about his hobby, so he keeps this corridor off-limits," Jenny explained, using a code to open a sliding hatch.
It was a big room with white walls and a high ceiling. Red carpeting in some places, black and white tile in others. There were no windows.
"I've only seen paraphernalia like this in movies," Tricia said, examining a table with restraints at the corners, a padded bench with ropes attached to the legs, and a cabinet containing whips and floggers. "He uses these on you?"
