She'd said she had always been in stable relationships, but had never found the sexual fulfilment and eroticism that she'd thought should be possible.
She'd been adamant that she wanted an anonymous someone to fuck her, to allow her to let go in ways she'd never been able to do. More than that, she'd said she wanted to be restrained in some way, while having her senses turned off, reducing that external volume and allowing her the permissions she craved...the opportunities to both submit to this unknown male energy, and be carried away on the internal waves of sensation and energy coming from his work on her. And apparently she wanted it to be anonymous, for reasons she'd struggled to communicate to him.
Was it a degree of misplaced embarrassment in polite society somewhere within her, he'd wondered, for wanting to be taken and used in such a way, and to such a degree? For a man's lust and dominant sexual force to overwhelm her, when she'd perhaps always felt expected to be a 'good' upstanding family girl, to conform outwardly to apparent societal expectations of appropriate behaviour?
He hadn't been sure quite where these needs were coming from and hadn't explored this level of sexual expression himself to that degree, but he'd always known he wasn't abashed or averse to some of the kinks and fetishes that few seemed to discuss. Indeed he'd often found himself having such wildly erotic fantasies, from a young age, whilst masturbating, his vivid imagination painting wonderfully erotic scenes, strangely familiar to his psyche....while perhaps also feeling some of those societal expectations, whether real or imaginary, to conform to the apparent norm or to suppress such behaviours...to be a kind, good man who wouldn't possibly consider treating any woman in that manner.
He'd never felt overly compelled to act on his fantasies with a partner, as he was aware that fantasy and reality were different beasts..at least to his conventional sensibilities. He'd certainly been highly aroused as she'd freely shared her wants, in just a couple of online interactions with him, and he'd started to think that maybe he would enjoy inflicting some of his own deeper desires on this unknown woman who seemed to be almost pleading for the experience.
He'd logged on the next night and there she'd been again.
More messages. More need. More requests for him to do this and that to her in such a particular way. He'd wondered whether she needed some sort of medieval gaoler to release her angst, rather than the mostly caring and gentle lover he'd been in much of his past experience...but it was almost a mirror of something lurking within him.
Not knowing her background he'd been a little wary about where this need was coming from, as he was aware that some people could fall into a pattern of being drawn to repeating negative behaviours, in any number of potentially unhealthy forms of abuse.
They'd continued chatting late into the night and he'd probed her for where this was coming from.
She'd shared her photo, whilst saying she really didn't want to know what he looked like, as this was about a particular fantasy for her. So he'd known that she was a good decade younger than him. She'd explained that she had always been drawn to older men, from her first sexual experiences in her late teens, finding boys and then men her own age unfulfilling and lacking what she needed sexually, emotionally, intellectually.
She'd been quick to say, in response to his questioning, that she'd not suffered abuse or difficulty growing up and that this was about her desire to put herself in a position where she would be forced to relinquish responsibilities, to have no choice but to submit the control of her body to another person...something she'd shared she was unable to do elsewhere in life, either through her early familial responsibilities, or, more recently, through a career in which she was expected to always be in charge. He'd felt satisfied that this wasn't anything damaging or unhealthy, at least if handled carefully. Indeed, potentially quite the opposite.
He'd been able to understand those desires to a degree and his own latent sexual wants had responded, as they'd started to paint a picture of the scenario in text. This had quickly lead to her sharing her number and some fast and furious late night phone sex, as they'd discussed it further.
He'd outlined the potential risks she was taking if with the wrong person and felt obligated to at least raise her awareness of those potentially dangerous situations. But she was an intelligent and capable woman who, at 35, claimed she knew the risks, felt she could trust him after their chatting, and that her choices weren't his responsibility. Besides, he'd known that she was likely safer with him than with God knows who else she might stumble across in these often shady online corridors, whilst looking for such an unusual encounter. He'd messaged her that he would accept her fantasy and that he would make arrangements, some of which would involve ordering some of the equipment he had in mind.
They'd made plans for her to arrive in his town, 25km south of Hobart, on the Friday evening of the following week, 10 days away. He'd insisted that they both get a full sexual health check, that she was not to have any form of sexual contact with him, or anyone else, nor to masturbate, over that period, as he wanted her sexual energy peaking and her to be ripe for the plucking when she arrived.
He'd heard her frustration at the wait but she agreed. Furthermore he'd decided to set her a preparatory task over that 10 days (something that had caught him by surprise when the thought had arisen in him, as he'd not generally taken this sort of approach in the past...but he'd decided to push forward as she was clearly wanting a strong experience, and this had the potential to be just that for them both). He'd asked if she was experienced with performing fellatio, and when she'd hesitated, he'd clarified it as giving a blow job.
"Of course, I love doing that for partners" she'd happily replied.
He'd gone further with the idea, though, focusing on the practice of deep throating, a term thrown around somewhat casually and jokingly in conversation at times, but that very few, in his experience, have the knowledge to perform safely and enjoyably for both participants. His description of the process had elicited a more hesitant response from her, as she'd admitted she'd not even realised it was possible to take the full length of a penis that way, outside of the sexually gymnastic stars of adult entertainment.
Her task, then, he'd said, involved her experimenting with the strength of her gag reflex. He'd told her to follow her own pace but his suggestion was to spend 3 days gently probing towards the back of her throat with her fingers, getting an idea of her throat's reaction to that unusual sensation. He'd gone on to boldly instruct her that if she found herself managing the finger technique without too much difficulty, then she could advance to using something like a small zucchini in a condom or, even better, visit an adult store for a flexible dildo to slowly continue the technique with, until they met.
Happily, as they'd touched base each evening over the following 10 days, she'd reported discovering that she apparently had only a minor gag reflex and had surprised herself by quickly progressing to being able to take much of the length of a soft silicone dildo into her throat without too much difficulty. As she'd progressed so easily, he'd quickly embellished her task, with suggestions for breathing techniques that allowed her to focus on breathing through her nose around the dildo as she slid it in and out of her throat, and to practice holding her breath for longer periods with it fully inserted.
For his part, he'd quickly weighed up the potential myriad of ways to restrain her and settled on an easy compromise as an introduction, after looking at a couple of Australian BDSM catalogues online. A firm foam wedge made up of several pieces, to be arranged in various ways, with anchor points on the side for attaching both arm and leg restraints to. She'd said she particularly enjoyed being taken from behind, both vaginally and anally, and he'd felt this would likely put her in the perfect position to give him access, whilst being comfortable for both of them over an extended session. He'd bought the accompanying handcuffs, a mask that would allow her eyes to remain open, but in absolute darkness, a ball gag (that apparently induced drooling by forcing the mouth to remain open, as a further extension on sensation play) and finally, a 12 inch long, black suede flogger that he'd found amusingly like a scaled down idea of the historically feared cat o nine tails, minus the knots. As a last minute decision, he'd added a further surprise to his shopping cart, as a fun possibility to try.
It was that simple.
He'd had a rough idea of how it might play out in his mind, despite not having taken things to this level in the past, or even searching for ideas on what to try particularly...he'd thought it would be fun for them both to discover a path through this together, and he certainly didn't lack the imagination of what he might want to do to her. On some weird level he'd wanted to do this sort of thing sexually since approaching puberty and it had felt confusingly familiar, even at such an early prepubescent age. He'd started to discover his sexuality early, quite innocently stumbling across masturbation at around the age of eleven, along with this almost innate and extreme form of sexual imagery...far earlier than school friends who had seemed to discover their sexual awakenings years later. But life had taken an unusual course for him and he'd never really acted on those deep desires, or even gone on to have the breadth of sexual experience that was more mainstream, just not needing it in that form.
He knew that he was a bit odd in that department and those unusual longings had stayed with him for almost forty years, perhaps simmering away below the surface.
The equipment had arrived mid the following week and he'd set the wedge up in the spare room on the futon, arranging the other items within easy reach, along with a few nicely scented candles around the room...chuckling to himself at the thought that a dungeon didn't have to smell too torturous. He'd also put in a few towels, some foam earplugs (as she'd asked to have that sense reduction too), a pair of heavy leather rigger's gloves and some natural lubricant that was made from kiwifruit extract and even smelled nice.
All set on the Thursday, he'd found his sexual excitement rising in anticipation of the following day and their final, brief nightly phone call had been somewhat breathy for them both.
Friday arrived and he'd had a further idea for perhaps heightening her experience. He'd texted her at work to tell her he'd decided that, rather than giving her his address, as they'd planned, she was to park in the local supermarket car park in the early winter darkness, to recline her seat and, with a simple sleep mask on, to wait for him to pick her up. He would knock 5 times, slowly, on her window so that she knew it was him. She'd texted back that the idea of this additional anonymity was making her even more wet at her desk, and that she was struggling to focus on her day's tasks.
"Good to know" he'd replied with a grin.
His afternoon had passed with his own excitement building, his body repeatedly responding to his train of thought, as he'd allowed ideas of which way he might guide their experience that night dance through his mind. Finally, after her quick message to say she was on her way, he'd lit the fire and awaited notification of the arrival of his quarry.
6pm on the dot she'd texted a brief "Here x" and he'd checked the fire was burning well in anticipation of the expected frosty night, before pulling the door closed and heading the kilometre or so to the car park. He'd told her to park at the end of the busy car park nearest the petrol station and she'd said she would be in a dark grey VW Golf.
He saw the car and his excitement was palpable, his pants feeling like they'd suddenly been vacuum sealed around his groin, as he parked next to her. He took a deep breath and climbed out of the car, slamming the door harder than he'd intended, in his aroused state.
There she was, playing her part perfectly, reclined and apparently sleeping with a mask on in the driver's seat, nothing out of the ordinary to any passers-by that might have glanced through the windows. Her wavy shoulder length brunette hair spilling over the headrest and her skirted charcoal business suit slightly crumpled.
He raised his fist and rapped a knuckle five times on the window, pausing for a second between each knock. Her head turned slightly towards the window and a second later her indicators flashed as she pressed the button to unlock her doors.
He opened the driver's door and, more deeply than he'd expected, his excitement affecting his vocal cords, said "Hello, young lady. Are you ready for me to help you out and into my car?"
She replied with a slightly wavering and strained "Hello. Yes please." and he could see that she was quivering like a taut bow string.
He wanted to allay her nervousness somehow, but also felt it might take some of that excitement away from her if he was too comforting, so he gently reached for her hand, feeling her jump at that first contact. He guided her up and out of her car, shutting the door behind her before opening his front passenger door and ushering her in. He shut the door gently behind her and moved around the front of his car, watching this young woman sit blindfolded and upright, not for the first time raising his eyebrows at the thought of what they were doing. He climbed in and started the car, before realising her car wasn't locked.
"Don't forget to lock your car" he said gently.
She again gave a nervous "Oh yes. Thank you."
He started back up the hill, wondering what to say in this rarest of situations. While they'd talked plenty in that preceding 10 days or so, the air was suddenly heavily pregnant with sexual tension and nerves.
He blurted out "So Darling, how was work!?"
