I paced nervously around my bedroom. How in the hell had I gotten myself into this? Here I was, a single, self-sufficient woman who had lived on my own and taken care of myself for years. And yet I'd allowed a stranger in a hardware store to bind my wrists, finger me to a crazy-making orgasm, and then come in my mouth. All in the back aisle of the store.
My interest in bondage. That's how I'd gotten myself into it. That and being recognized by the stranger as the one thing I'd denied for so many years. A sexual submissive.
It turned out the stranger was the store owner. I'd admitted to him in the course of our...encounter...that I intended to use the rope for self-bondage. He'd sussed right away that I was a novice, and in a kind but firm way told me that he wouldn't sell it to me unless he could also provide some education on how to safely do what I wanted to do with it.
We'd agreed that he would deliver it to me the following day around 5:00 pm when I'd be done working. From the moment I'd left the store, I had second-guessed that. But it had taken me months to screw up the courage to even go into the store and look at rope. Having admitted to him what I planned to do with it, I wasn't sure if I could manage to go through that again somewhere else. I might as well see this through.
And who was I kidding? I wanted to see the man again. He hadn't said much about himself, but he must be a dom. He'd told me to call him Sir, for god's sake. Thinking about that give me a little shiver. Somehow, he'd recognized the submissive in me. What had given me the most cause for worry was the way he'd let slip that he'd noticed me on several other occasions when I'd been into his store, which was conveniently located just a block away from my loft apartment.
Last night after I got home, I'd had to sit down on the floor just inside my front door, my whole body collapsing there while I relived what had just happened. I still felt powerfully aroused. Without even thinking, I pulled my skirt up and fingered myself to another orgasm, right there on the floor. My mind was spinning. My wrists tingled where he'd bound them. I was a mess.
I managed to make it into the bedroom, a small area walled off from the rest of the loft space, then undressed and crawled into bed. I thought I would spend a sleepless night worrying about what had happened, but instead I slept deeply, not waking until morning.
And now it was ten minutes before 5:00. I resisted the urge to look out the window, to see if I could spot him on the sidewalk. Instead, I straightened the pillows on my wrought-iron bed. It was sturdy and modern but made to look like an antique, the focus of many of my bondage fantasies. I hoped the man -- Jake, Sir, whatever I should call him -- would show me how to restrain myself on it with the rope he was bringing. I rolled my eyes. What could possibly go wrong?
I'd already come twice today. Once in the shower in the morning and again after lunch when I got to wondering what he was doing with my panties that he'd insisted on keeping. Neither time seemed to make a dent in the sexual charge I felt. I turned nervously to look at myself in the large mirror on the wall, just as there was a knock at the door. He was two minutes early. My heart started to hammer as I opened the door.
Jake stood casually, resting a hand on the door frame, one leg bent. He had a good-sized canvas bag with the hardware store's logo slung on his shoulder. Without the heels I was wearing yesterday, he seemed taller. And he wasn't wearing the hardware store apron.
"Hi," I said nervously, my voice softer than usual. He took his time, looking at me from head to toe with that same regard I'd noticed yesterday before he smiled lazily.
"May I come in?" he asked, studying my face, not assuming anything.
I paused for a couple of seconds, pondering whether I should just grab the bag from him and slam the door. Then I stepped back and vaguely waved him in. "Please do," I replied, clinging to the doorknob.
He waited behind me in the entry as I took a deep breath, firmed my shoulders, and closed the door. I was determined to go on with this. I turned and nearly jumped as his hands came to rest on my shoulders.
"Relax, little bird," he said in the calm, compelling tone I remembered from yesterday. "I'm just here to keep you safe. I'm really big on the consensual thing too. Nothing's going to happen other than me giving you some tips and checking out your set-up. Unless we both want it to happen."
I felt the need to assert myself, despite wanting to melt all over the floor at his voice. So I stepped back, out of his reach, and said, "How do I know what you consider safe? And just for the record, I let my neighbor know that I had a delivery man coming at 5:00 and asked her to check on me if I didn't call her in an hour."
He chuckled. Damn his self-assurance. He stepped close again and I couldn't retreat further because the door was at my back. Running a finger down my cheek, he said. "Good girl. I approve of your caution. As to what I consider safe, I'm a longstanding member of a local, private BDSM group, and an expert in rope bondage who gives demonstrations regularly. On top of that I'm a model citizen and local store owner, so it seems highly unlikely that I'm here to kidnap you or harm you in any way."
He paused, letting that sink in, then lifted my wrist and inspected it carefully. "No damage from the chain, I see."
I blushed. "Yes...ah, thank you for taking care of it. And for reassuring me. It's just very...difficult...for me to talk about this."
He kept the wrist in his hand as he asked, "I gather this is something you've wanted for a while. Why now?"
I sighed. Something in his voice compelled me to be honest. "I've been scared to admit it. But I can't go on. The guys I've dated -- the sex we've had -- it just doesn't do it for me. I've had these fantasies for a while, but I thought before I committed myself to doing something crazy like going to a club or letting someone else tie me up, I'd try it on myself first, just to see if it's really all that. If it's as exciting as I imagine."
The look in his eyes changed, darkened somehow. I wasn't sure if he was thinking of those fantasies I mentioned, or of me allowing someone else to tie me up, but there was a strong possessive vibe rolling off him.
He released my wrist. "Let's see your bed," he said curtly.
I stepped in front of him and led the way into the bedroom. He looked around as we walked. "Nice loft," he said. "I like what you've done to it. I've got one of these myself, just down the block a bit. Very convenient."
I nodded, then stopped just inside the bedroom door. The room wasn't large, but the ceilings were high. The black wrought-iron queen-sized bed took up most of the floor space. He stepped to it, touched it, determining how sturdy it was.
