A colleague asked her, "So, Sandra... it's almost time for vacation. Are you going to the Hamptons again this year?"
"Not this year, Charles. I've not completely decided yet, but I'm tired of just going to the Hamptons summer after summer."
He chuckled. "Well, as they say, a change is as good as a rest. I hope you find something enjoyable. Your schedule has been pretty hectic this year."
"Yes, it has," she admitted. "But we know that people need to talk with their psychologist on a regular basis to get through hard times. We need to help all we can."
"And you're one of the best," he complimented his blonde colleague as he walked away. "It's no wonder that you're so busy."
She couldn't share with Charles the strange compulsion she felt when she'd read that ad. She'd gotten into the habit of reading the 'underground' papers, often amazed at the articles prompting the benefits of 'alternative' lifestyles. The writers were advocating the glories of some fascinating deviancies. It was great reading for basic psychological research, or so she convinced herself.
But that one ad. The first time she saw it, she assumed it was a joke. But it kept reappearing, along with contact information. In bold letters, its header said 'BONDAGE SERVICES' followed by a phone number. Finally, she did a search of that area code, and found it was for a nearby area, outside the city limits. She'd wrestled with the temptation for weeks. In her practice, she'd occasionally had clients who incorporated bondage games into their lifestyle. They weren't seeing her about a problem with it -- they were there to discuss other issues. But they did share that ceding control by being bound or even caged often gave them relief from stress. Lacking control, they experienced relief from worry about decisions. They just submitted, accepted, and found a strange, difficult-to-explain comfort.
Sandra felt that she owed it to herself to learn about this experience first-hand. And this ad offered that opportunity. Still, there was a great bit of mystery wrapped up in that tiny ad. But recently, the ad also cited a web page. She visited that, and found more information, including a list of offered services, testimonials, and, of all things, a Better Business Bureau logo! That was enough impetus for Sandra to start thinking seriously about this. But still she dithered. It seemed that each time she toyed with the idea of ceding control to someone else like that, butterflies took flight in her tummy. But at the same time, she couldn't deny the moistness that also appeared between her thighs.
Finally, as the time for vacation neared, she decided to act. She called the number. A pleasant female voice answered saying, "Hello, Bondage Services. How may I help you?"
"Hello. I saw your ad and have visited your web site, but I wanted to verify that I'm understanding your services."
"Certainly, Madam. What are you interested in doing?"
"I've got a very stressful job and I want to 'switch my mind off' for a long time. In looking over what you offer I have a suspicion of what might help with that. But I'd like your opinion, since this is your field of... shall we say... expertise?"
This led to a spirited discussion about each of the services offered, and an expectation of the possible benefits of each. The provider, Lori, answered each of Sandra's questions carefully and clearly. She wasn't giving a rushed sales pitch, allowing Sandra all the time she needed to draw her own conclusions. This cinched it for Sandra. She made an appointment to meet with Lori in the first Saturday of her upcoming vacation, in the afternoon. As she hung up the phone, Sandra's heart was already accelerating in anticipation. "At least this'll be quite a departure from going to the Hamptons," she murmured to herself.
On the appointed day, Sandra nervously dressed to look her best, as if she was going to an important business meeting. She entered the address into her car's navigation system and set out on this new adventure. "It's great to get out of the city," she said cheerfully as her surroundings transitioned from urban to suburban and finally rural. "I'd almost forgotten about fields and what trees look like in their native habitat," she voiced to her empty car. That prompted her to roll down her windows and let in the fresh air.
Following the navigation instructions, she was free to inhale the countryside scents, like fresh mowed grass or hay, and various floral smells that she could not identify, but enjoyed. There was a lot of green around her, and sparkling ponds and rivulets. The day was perfect for such a drive. The sun was now in the west, not quite ready to set. Thankfully, the navigation system said, "Your destination is 500 yards on the right."
It was a nicely maintained house, set well back from the road. It had the appearance that it might've once been a farm with a lot of acreage, some wooded, and a few outbuildings, set far back from the house. The nearest other houses were about a mile away in either direction. This really was farming country. As Sandra pulled into the long driveway, a dark-haired young woman stepped out onto the porch. She had her hair done up in a ponytail, and was wearing a t-shirt and blue jeans.
