I arrived at the appointed time. Her directions were precise, "Enter the side gate. Follow the brick path around the back deck. Take the cement stairs down to the red door."
I knocked, 'tap-tap-tap, tap-tap,' and looked into the glass circle peep hole so she would know it was me.
The door opened. I entered. Before I looked fully on her face, I removed my shoes and socks as though I were approaching holy ground.
I stood and turned toward her. She's tall. Her eyes were about the same level as mine and they shone like two emeralds set above ruby lips-all on a cream-colored satin pillow. She was long and slim; elegantly dressed in a floor-length black dress.
She invited me to sit on a settee across from hers. She wanted to read my face. I scanned the room. Thick red drapes hung from ceiling to floor on every side. The room exuded old world stateliness. The mood was enhanced by eighteenth-century classical music flowing from speakers placed throughout.
She guided the conversation through my history. What kinds of experiences I'd had and where. What I had learned. What I liked. How I found her. What I sought. Our eyes were intently fixed on each other's. Trust was building as she drew me into her world.
She excused me to the bathroom, instructing me to meet her naked in the middle of the room.
She was standing there checking me out as I returned. I was again struck by her beauty. She seemed taller now. She placed her hands on my shoulders and turned me toward a curtained hallway that led to the playroom.
The playroom walls were lined with shelves filled with dozens and dozens of pairs of high heels. She had a pair for every mood, every occasion. I also noticed mannequin heads with masks and other paraphernalia. At the far side of the room was the largest mirror I've seen outside a bar. I could see the top of her head over mine in the reflection as we approached it. She stopped me a few steps short of the wall and turned me back toward her and told me to stay there.
She wemt to the corner and rolled a massage table to the middle of the room. She patted and said, "Lie here on your back."
I lay as instructed. She moved around the room gathering items for our session. I took in the new view while she worked. Directly above me in the ceiling was a stout eyebolt with three heavy-duty screwgate locking carabineers. She grasped my right wrist and buckled on a wide leather cuff. She went counter clockwise around the table cuffing my ankles and other wrist. I was owned.
She took ropes and affixed my wrists to some supports beneath the table. I felt the downward tug first on my right wrist, then on the left. She placed a two-foot wide spreader bar on my ankles. The bar had three eyes, one on either end and one on the middle. She took her time securing the eyes in the ankle cuffs to those on the spreader, using a separate rope for each. She added a third rope for the center eye then she tied the spreader below the table. A final tug and all my extremities were firmly secured. Although I could still lift and rotate my head, I wasn't going anywhere.
"That's good," she said, "now to add some mystery." She slipped a mask over my head leaving my eyes in total darkness. I heard the rattle of a lightweight chain and felt her pinching my right nipple with her thumb and forefinger, getting it taut enough to receive the clamp. She repeated on the left. She tested the grip by pulling up, away from my torso. Satisfied, she playfully tugged in other directions and observed my reactions. She gave a little chuckle when she pulled down and saw my cock twitch as though connected to my nipples by some internal cord.
She purred and hmmm'd as she explored my body with a variety of teasing light touches interspersed with light slaps and pulls on my chained nipples.
