They say that life is what happens while you make other plans. The thing is, Jimmy Porter hadn't really made any real plans. He was an average guy and he lived an average life. Like many boys, he did odd jobs for extra money while he was in school, but unlike most of the rest, he was extremely good at it. He started out mowing lawns, moved into landscaping slowly as he grew, and when it came time for college, he decided to take a year off and earn some money towards the cost.
The thing is, Jimmy got so much work, he soon had to hire his out-of-work dad to help him. By the time Jimmy was twenty six, they'd added two more employees. So much for college. Ah well, he didn't mind, he hadn't really wanted to go anyway. He enjoyed his job, and all the women he met while working. He wasn't into playing with another man's wife, but he sure wasn't above looking and flirting.
Jimmy liked his women a bit older than himself too, he always had. His favorite, at the time this story began, was Mrs. Ellen Sarko. This woman was about ten years older than Jimmy, and married to a sickly man in his sixties. Mr. Sarko may have been frail, but Ellen was a goddess, tall slim, tight waist, sweetly curving hips, big but not massive breasts, lots of wavy brown hair, crystal blue eyes, and a smile that lit up the world like a morning sun. She smiled a lot, especially when Jimmy was around.
Jimmy was anticipating that smile one morning, as he pulled into their driveway and turned off the truck. Stepping down to the ground, he heard the crack of a whip striking flesh, and heard Ellen's yelp of pain. He had been told never to enter their garage, but at the second crack of the whip he burst through the side door like a hurricane. A glance showed him Mr. Sarko, in his wheelchair, holding a whip. Ellen was naked, her hands bound together, and hanging from the ceiling, her feet barely touching the floor.
"What the hell are you doing, you crazy old bastard?" Jimmy snarled as he snatched the whip from the man's hand and shook an iron fist under his nose. "I ought to bust you up good, you..."
He got no further as Ellen was suddenly between them, and she was angry. "Stop it, don't you dare hurt him," she hissed as she put her hands against Jimmy's chest and thrust him back.
"Me hurt him? Cripes woman, he was.... Hey, how did you get out of those ropes?"
"Idiot, did you really think a man in a wheelchair could have tied me to the ceiling? I did it myself, and it was easy to get out of."
Poor Jimmy, he had gone from the hero to the fool in a heartbeat. He was confused, and the sight of this magnificent woman, stark naked, eyes ablaze with protective fury, had made his pecker rock hard. "I don't understand. What..."
"Ellen, it's alright, bring Jimmy a seat. We owe him an explanation." Mr. Sarko's voice was firm, but gentle. She turned instantly and brought Jimmy a folding chair, then she sat on the cold concrete floor and laid her cheek on Mr. Sarko's knee. She kept her body between Jimmy and her husband, watching Jimmy carefully.
"Sit down, Jimmy," Mr. Sarko smiled as he stroked her hair affectionately. "I won't let her bite you."
"You promise?"
"I swear it," he chuckled. "Tell me, Jimmy, what do you know of BDSM?"
"Nothing at all," replied Jimmy, "really."
"Well, for us it is about dominance and control. Before I became ill, I had a deep need to dominate and control a woman completely. Not to do great harm, mind you, but to help her discover her limits, her natural desires, and to grow as a person."
"Really?" The doubt was clear in Jimmy's voice. It was also clear he did not want to hear or believe this.
Ellen reached out to gently touch his knee. "Jimmy, please listen without judging. Just keep an open mind and listen, please?" Her anger was gone now, and her eyes were pleading with him, begging him to understand. Damn he wish she would put on a robe so he could concentrate. Her nipples were rock hard and they were messing with his mind.
"Look, as long as everything is Ok here, I don't need..."
"Yes you do," interrupted Mr. Sarko, "and we need you to listen. Jimmy, that need was a driving force in my life, just as the need to be dominated and controlled is a driving force in Ellen."
"Ah-huh..."
"Jimmy, it is true," Ellen put in softly. "My poor Eric suffers so, trying to help me these days. I try to tell him he doesn't have to, that I can live without it, but he won't listen."
"My darling girl," smiled Mr. Sarko as he gently stroked her hair, "I swore to meet your needs for you, and as long as I am alive I mean to do just that. Jimmy, this is no longer about me and my needs, for I am well past the ability to have sex. It is about Ellen and her needs."
"So, you're telling me you get off on being tied up and whipped?"
"Yes, that is exactly what we are saying, but there is more to it, Jimmy. Eric is the master, I am the slave. He can do whatever he likes with me. I do like a certain amount of pain to stimulate me, but I enjoy being totally controlled as well. I love to be bound, helpless, and taken by my man."
"It sure didn't sound like that when..."
"I know, I know, but it is part of the fun."
"Part of the fun?"
"Yes Jimmy, part of the fun. I like to yelp, squirm, whimper, and beg him to stop, but that is all part of the game. If I was truly hurt, I would use my safe word."
"Safe word, what the hell is a safe word?"
"It's a magic word that tells Master that I am in trouble. He will instantly stop and take care of me."
