Memento

(C) 2007 Rachel Gumm. You may freely distribute this story digitally, but only in full, crediting me as the author. I welcome feedback, and try my best to reply to it all. You can e-mail me.

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This isn't an excuse. I'm not ashamed of my actions, really. I did it, and that's just a part of who I am. You should know my reckless behaviour by now, and I'm not going to apologise for something I did several years ago that didn't harm anybody. And don't tell me I'm a victim, because I made a choice. I'm the one who did it. This is just an explanation. I feel I owe you that much.

How it happened was I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, fumbling through my cardboard box of restraints. Joel, my roommate at the time, was standing by the doorway, digital camera in hand, watching me with an enthusiasm he wasn't very good at hiding.

He'd known about my sexuality since a few months beforehand. That I enjoyed being tied up, I mean. He also knew I was bisexual, but that never seemed to matter by comparison. That was more a romantic orientation than a sexual one, anyway. Sexually, I'm submissive, and that's pretty much all there is to it. Joel wasn't into that sort of thing, and I didn't see him that way anyway, but this wasn't sex. This was something more than that.

I felt like one of those middle aged guys having a midlife crisis, only I'm a woman and I was only in my twenties. The problem was mortality. I know that death's necessary for life, for each species to evolve, for us to get to the state we're in at the moment where we have a society and spend our time listening to music and watching films instead of being hunted by predators. I've always accepted that one day I will die. The thing is, I've always had this inescapable feeling in the back of my mind that I should do something first. I'm not sure what it is. I think that's part of the problem.

I knew my body would peak long before my mind. Having a relatively high sex drive for a woman, I've always felt I should be making full use of it before it's too late and I cease to look particularly attractive. Sure, I always hoped that one day I'd settle down with the right person, and that I'd be content to do that. But at the time, I felt there was something I had to do first, to get out of my system, to say I've lived. To leave my mark on the world.

The only problem was, I didn't know what that was. Sure, I'm reasonably attractive. I'm of average height, with pale skin and brown hair and eyes. Although my breasts are small, my curves look pretty neat. I watch what I eat. I've got a black spandex catsuit somewhere, skin tight. I'm not even sure where I keep it now, but at the time, it was always in my bedside drawer, next to my socks and tights.

I loved how I looked in that catsuit, and the few lovers I'd had at around that time loved it even more. The problem was, it wasn't enough. Just intimate moments with a handful of men and women. Sure, I could have gone clubbing in it, been seen in it, but I didn't. I would still have faded from everyone's memory within the blink of an eye. I even considered trying to get a job as a fetish model, but realistically, I'm not that attractive, only average.

That's where Joel came in. Getting mildly drunk one night, we got talking about mortality and what we'd like to do before we die. I told him all this, about how I wanted to show off my body while people would still want to see it. I even told him about my stupid modelling idea. That's when he told me about Usenet. He told me about a place where I could publish photos of myself. Erotica. Where I wouldn't get paid, but people would appreciate what I did, even if I wasn't exactly Jewell Marceau.

"So when do I start taking photos?" Joel was still standing in the doorway, pretending to be blase about our amateur photo shoot. It's weird, had I been living with another woman I probably would have felt uncomfortable asking her to do this favour for me, but I got the impression most guys would see it as its own reward.

"First, you need to leave for a minute while I get changed." I jumped off the bed.

Joel looked disappointed. "You mean I don't get to see you naked?"

"No." I smiled, flattered, as I pulled my catsuit out of the drawer and held it up over my clothes. "You get to see me in this, like everyone else."

"Not even as a reward?" Joel's tone of voice was playful, but I could tell he really was hoping I'd agree to it. That's what made it flattering.

"Maybe afterwards," I relented. "But only as a thank you." His eyes lit up. "And it doesn't mean we're having sex or anything either," I added, just in case he was getting the wrong impression.

By the time I called for Joel to come back in, I had everything ready. I was wearing the catsuit, which covered my entire body up to my neck. I'd managed to use a handful of my small padlocks to attach one end of a piece of chain to my bed's headrest, and the other end to the ankle cuffs I'd put on. I'd fumbled a little taking out the keys due to my gloved hands, but I'd managed it. All that was left was for Joel to complete my captivity, finishing what I'd started.

I guided him through padlocking my wrist cuffs behind me, to the same piece of chain, next to my feet. He made a pretty tight hogtie, and the thought of not being able to escape without his help made me tingle. He even picked up all the keys and put them in his pocket without any prompting, like a true dom.

The next to last item was the spandex hood, black to match my catsuit. I had hoped to get a proper zentai suit with a built-in hood, but it wasn't very practical and I couldn't afford it anyway. Joel carefully placed the hood on my head and zipped it up behind me. It wasn't my sort of thing, really, but I wasn't about to send the world pictures of myself all tied up if I was easily identifiable. For all I knew, our neighbours could have been subscribed to that newsgroup.

The very last item was the bright pink ball gag. I had to make sure Joel knew exactly what he was doing before he fastened it around me. Thankfully, he could understand me despite the hood muffling my voice slightly.

"What are you going to do next?" I asked, to make sure he remembered.

"I'm going to put the gag on you, then take pictures of you squirming for a few minutes. Then I'll post them to the newsgroup, and once that's done, I'll untie you."

That was the moment, right there. No going back. "Thank you," I said, naive young woman that I was.

"You're welcome."

I couldn't see very well through the hood, but managed to open my mouth pretty quickly once I felt the rubber ball pressing against my lips. Within seconds it was tightly strapped in place, and there was nothing else I could do except pose.

This was the part where I thought I'd chicken out. I'd made up my mind since he first told me about Usenet. I'd thought long and hard about it, and I'd made my decision. I didn't want to let myself change my mind at the last minute only to change it back again. I'd taken precautions to ensure my anonymity, wearing the spandex hood and setting up a disposable e-mail account, and I was going to go through with it whether I changed my mind or not.

In some ways, it was even better than sex. It wasn't an intimate moment between two lovers. It was more than that: it was opening up to the whole world. It was baring your soul for everyone to see, showing people who you really were, your innermost desires and fantasies. And that's the one thing I hadn't counted on: desire.

Whenever I had thought about this moment, when I was planning it, I always assumed I'd be almost clinical about it. I was with my roommate, not a lover, and we certainly weren't having sex. He wasn't even touching me. I hadn't anticipated how damn horny I'd get.

For the first few minutes I managed to content myself with squirming around on the bed, testing my boundaries. I couldn't even move to the foot of the bed. The chain was too short. I just writhed around, grunting in mild frustration as I mustered the effort to turn onto my front, my other side, my back, all the while listening out for the next click of Joel's camera.

The more I struggled, the more aroused I became, knowing Joel was the only person who could release me. Knowing he wouldn't, not until he'd finished taking the most degrading photos of me and showed them off to the world. Slowly, I let my hands creep down my back and between my legs. I gently started stroking my pussy from behind.

Of course, Joel took pictures of me pleasuring myself too. I'd told him to take pictures of me, and he didn't realise I hadn't intended to start groping myself. This wasn't part of the plan, but he had no way to know that. I could just about make out the outline of his body as he leaned closer to my crotch to take a close-up. It was so degrading, so embarrassing, but that only turned me on even more, knowing everyone in the world who wanted to would see how damn horny I was, how helpless I'd let myself become. And that just made me want to pleasure myself even more.

I started moaning, half with the pleasure of being in the moment, and half in revulsion of what was happening to me. Joel probably couldn't tell if I was trying to express how happy and content I was or if I had changed my mind and wanted him to stop. But then again, neither could I.

"No use protesting now. You've already given me strict orders to take photos of whatever you do, then upload them for everyone to see before I let you go again. So if you're trying to tell me to stop, it's too late, you already told me not to do that."

He was right. He was only doing exactly what I'd told him to. I was annoyed at myself for telling him not to let me change my mind, but it wasn't his fault. I let out a muffled scream of frustration before giving up and going back to stroking myself.

I didn't anticipate what happened next. Joel seemed to get into the spirit of his role. I felt something soft land in front of my crotch.

"There you go." Joel's voice was strong and firm. Condescending, even. The voice of someone in control. "If you want to pleasure yourself so much, try fucking that."

It was a language I'd never heard him use before. Sure, he swore occasionally, but he never talked to me like that, talking down to me like some sort of pet. I began to wonder if he genuinely had dominating urges after all, and he'd just never told me.

I felt the soft object with my gloved hands. It was my pillow. I pulled it between my legs and squeezed them around it. After a short moment of effort, I finally managed to press it against my groin. I was beyond the point of caring what anyone would think of this anonymous stranger, but not beyond the point of being turned on by the thought of people seeing how humiliated I was. I slowly started moving my pussy back and forth, pushing it further into the soft surface.

I thrust my groin harder and harder into the pillow. Between the humiliation, the inability to escape, the realisation that Joel was starting to get into his role, the feeling of the soft pillow pressing against my skin, and the feeling of the spandex catsuit gently covering my whole body, stretching with each new contortion, I became lost in the pleasure of the moment.

I came.

To my surprise, Joel took my gag off. I didn't hesitate to start pleading with him. "Please don't publish those pictures! Please don't show them to anyone! I made a mistake! I know what I told you before, about not letting me change my mind, but that was just about me being tied up and you taking photos of that. I didn't know I'd get carried away and start..." I cringed at admitting what I'd done. "...pleasuring myself. Please, I'm begging you, don't show anyone those photos! I'll make it worth your while, I'll do anything for you, just don't show them to anyone!"

It seemed a lifetime before Joel replied. He simply said "Open."

"What?" I asked, confused. Before I had time to realise what he'd ordered me to do, the gag was back in place, pressing the wet, black spandex of the hood back inside my mouth. I shouted muffled protests, but it was no use. I squirmed with absolute sincerity for the first time in my life, genuinely trying to escape, but I already knew it was impossible.

"I was going to let you talk freely, but if you're just going to beg me to go against your own wishes, that you made when you were of perfectly sound judgement, then I'm afraid I'll have to leave you gagged."

I screamed again, almost sobbing into the gag, as I frantically writhed around on my own bed.

"I suggest you relax," advised Joel. "I should be done in about twenty minutes, and then we can look at the pictures of you together as they appear online. I'm sure you'll get lots of fan mail."

I let out a whole string of loud protests, one after the other, as I heard him leave the room. It was no good. He'd gone off to do exactly what I'd ask him to do, and it was all my fault.

I was consumed by genuine frustration about being bound and helpless for the first time in my life, and I finally recognised the strange feeling it was giving me. Despite everything, or because of everything, I'd become horny again. With no one to watch this time, I tugged the pillow back between my legs. With nothing else to do until Joel came back, I figured I might as well enjoy myself.