This is a work of fiction. It contains elements of light BDSM.
I sat in business class on the airline, my attention shifting between passengers shuffling onto the plane and my phone. I watched as the last came on, their expressions weary and relieved at the same time - tired of standing, happy to finally be nearing their destination of whatever middle seat they had awaiting them. The older man shuffling past me looked down and gave me a brief smile, but then was past. Besides, my phone buzzed in my hand, so I looked down.
Rebecca: Locked in yet?
I grinned. I looked up. The cabin was still open.
-I can escape!
Rebecca: Don't you fucking dare!
-I won't!
I chuckled as I lifted my head and looked at the window out into the darkness. Even though I have flown many times, I still find it amazing that I can be in another continent in a few short hours.
I watched as the crew closed and locked the doors. Looked down.
-Now...I am locked in.
Rebecca: No going back now.
-I was not going to anyway.
Rebecca: I know. I just like knowing that you have no choices left!
I chuckled aloud again. She loved her little teases - that little quip. I put the phone in my lap, as the bad thoughts came in again. I was locked in, and my eyes darted to the cabin door. I had been distracted for my last chance to escape this absolutely insane idea that she had.
Rebecca: Patricia?
-I am here.
Rebecca: Are you okay?
-Just thinking.
Rebecca: Worried?
-No. And yes.
Rebecca: Me too. Except I won't have your support when I board!
-*smiles* You always have my support, darling.
Rebecca: Yes, Mistress.
-Oops. The crew is announcing shut down times. I gotta go. Love you. See you on the island.
Rebecca: Love you too. xxx
I disconnected from the app and tried to relax in my chair. The crew was going through their normal startups, and I debated whether to take my little pill now, or wait until we were in the air. Fuck it, I thought. I'm taking it now. I took out the sleeping pill and dry-swallowed it, wincing as it made its way slowly down my throat. I had already taken the time to get comfortable, and I furthered that comfort. I allowed my mind to drift back to what brought me to this seat, and this trip, in the first place...
***
There had been no warning at all. None. Roger had sat across from me that night at dinner, as usual his head swiveling back and forth between Ellie and Rachel. He adored our two daughters, and both of them were complete and total Daddy's Girls. They had him wrapped around their fingers with ease, a trick I had never managed with him. He did look a little peaked during supper.
"Roger, are you all right?"
"Yeah, hon, I am. Just not feeling tip-top is all," he said.
"Seriously. Are you okay?"
"Come on Patricia," he told me in that exasperated tone that so often infuriated me. "I am fine. Just a little off."
"I worry is all," I replied softly. I did. He was fifty-three and he'd spent the past year getting in shape and losing a lot of weight. But it did not have all the benefits that we had hoped he would receive, and his frequent tiredness in the evenings had become quite noticeable. I had not thought much of it - maybe that he was actually working out too hard. So after we cleared the table with the help of the girls, Roger kissed me, and kissed the girls, telling all three of us that he loved us. He went up to our bedroom and got into bed.
In the morning I awoke to discover that at some point during the night, Roger had died. Whether I have no actual memory of those moments, or my brain is defensively attempting to keep me from them, I have no clear picture. A blur, of course, of my panic and horror, my gut-wrenching sense of loss. The girls' screaming and crying and the chaos of the EMTs who knew that my Roger was gone from the moment they walked in. The funeral was well-attended because he was a popular man, at our country club and through his sales job. Roger had never met a person he had not instantly befriended, and many - including me - were in awe of his salesmanship skills. If there was anyone who could have sold ice to an eskimo, it was Roger.
I all too clearly recall the year after his passing. The hollowness that I felt, how I was a shell of myself. I functioned. My heart still beat steadily in my chest, and my leg muscles moved when I needed to walk. The girls were attentive to me, but I missed our intimacy more than anything I had ever felt in my life. It was not the sexual intimacy, necessarily - though yes, I missed that too. It was the privacy that we had, our shared history, what made us laugh or annoyed. How he would walk past me as I sat on my vanity stool and press his hand into my back until it noisily cracked, or how he would give me a side-long look and nod his head at a woman he found pretty, wanting to know my opinion. I would smack his arm, but usually with humor; most of the women he found pretty I also found attractive.
I worked. I ate. I worked out. I slept. I maintained the house and the bills and did the taxes - the things I had always done. The girls did laundry and the remaining household chores I hated doing - like the laundry and the dishes. We three were a good team, but then Ellie turned eighteen and headed off to college. Rachel had a boyfriend and she was always with him, and on those Friday nights when I was utterly alone, the loneliness of it would hit with the force of a hammer.
One day, home from college, Ellie was all bubbling about this virtual world that she and her friends had found called Second Life. I clearly got the sense that there was a heavy sexual nature to it, but hearing Ellie discuss how she had friends from Spain, France and Australia sounded delightful.
So the next time I was alone, I perched my laptop on my lap and Googled Second Life. An hour later I was "in world." I had no idea what to "name" myself so I chose Patricia - my real name. That was it - I soon saw how many people only had first names. Patricia. Natalie. Katya. Katrina.
I stared at the women - and the men. They looked so...good. I could not believe it. I could click on a name and see if they had a profile, and if that profile held any interest to me.
In life, I was more stoic, quiet, introverted. But I immediately discovered that being silent in the world meant that I was simply that - silent. No interaction. So I forced myself to ask questions, which I actually found more easily done. All I had to do was type a question and hit enter. I did not have to worry about viewing a facial expression or seeing someone recoil at my question. It was all text. There was nothing to worry about.
It was only a couple of days later that I fished a credit card out of my purse and added some of the in-world currency. I had things to buy, things that people told me about. Bodies. Heads. Skins. Clothing. Clothing upon clothing upon clothing. I bought a house. Began to decorate it. Hosted someone in it and had virtual sex for the first time.
Like a virgin who never forgets her first lover (Timmy, in my case), I never forgot Warhammer. Now I never went back to him, but I never forgot him! But it began to answer some questions as to why the world was so heavily skewed towards sex. And the deeper I investigated sex, I came to see that it seemed like everyone was into BDSM.
I'd seen the movies; I read the books. I did not come away feeling like I knew anything, so I hung around this sim I discovered and got hooked up with a Mistress. I was made to do things - sex things. I made love to a woman in-world for my first "lesbian" experience. Erotic and thrilling though it was, it turned out that I had not the best Mistress. So I fled her, and found another. Then another. My third Mistress was the most loving and wonderful person I had met yet in the world.
She taught me a great many things. But over time, I came to realize that kneeling before her was no longer bringing me joy. I wanted to be the one standing. And as it turned out, my "Mistress" had a deep yearning to be the one on her knees. So we began visiting other sims, where I learned how to dominate after being submissive for so long.
I learned that I enjoyed domination. My god, did I enjoy it. Hearing a girl address me as Mistress or Miss Patricia. Seeing her kneel in greeting. Holding her leash. Making her do things - pushing her, testing her limits.
The next thing I knew I was celebrating my fifty-fourth birthday - with Rachel and her boyfriend - and later that night, fucking a new girl I had met with my strap-on as I neared my two-year mark. I was enthralled with this new girl - who was almost as fast of a thinker and typist as I was and our sex was hot and fast and raw. And I soon discovered that her avatar also sported male sex organs. It was not the first time that I'd gotten fucked by a shemale in the world, but it was the first time that I had truly enjoyed it. It did not make me want to run out and get my own. But it opened my eyes to the possibilities - a woman's touch with a man's organ.
That's what led me to trolling a few rather questionable shemale sex sims. I would hang around, not my usual ebullient self, but more of a wall-flower, observing. I had a pretty detailed profile by this time, indicating what I wanted and what I most definitely did not like.
I saw her once, at this sim. Rebecca. She was a pretty girl, and her profile indicated a heavy role play preference. A lot of people liked to engage in detailed role plays that involved some specific character with a detailed back history. This Rebecca's was that of a hacker and cybersecurity expert who had been captured and turned into a slave, and thus becoming addicted to BDSM. I saw her a second night, and then a third. It was on the third night that, as I studied her, and noted that she was studying me, that I said "fuck it" and reached out.
Patricia: So, I am having a devil of a time trying to figure out what to say to a cybersecurity expert who lounges here. So I won't - I will say hello instead. I'm Patricia.
Her reply came shortly thereafter, and we chatted easily at first. But she was smart, witty and inventive, and that first initial conversation turned into something much deeper indeed. Within a week, we were lovers. And things got progressively hotter and more pleasurable as time went by. In a first for me, I "partnered" with her, where I was married (though by mutual consent it was an open marriage) and pretty much shed all of the hangers-on in my life to concentrate on Rebecca.
One of our common plays was to find a sex-and-travel themed sim. Pretending that we were meeting for the first time in a bar in Prague, or Rio, or Johannesburg. Of course the sex would be hot, since we were playacting discovering one another for the first time. Equally of course, we would fall into our normal roles pretty quickly.
While it was not purely BDSM between us, there was always a tinge of it. Rebecca had her moments where she wanted to dominate, and her domination was often public and resulted in me screaming orgasmically as others watched, listened in and commented. There was something powerfully erotic in my opinion to that, and often when Rebecca was in such a mood, I would have to run and get a towel from the closet and put it under my naked body. I had given up wearing clothing when entering the world - Rachel was already gone to her first semester at college's summer-school offerings, and Ellie was also staying at school working that summer.
