"Real Life Chronicles of Horny Women— The Contract Part 2"
Please read part one to see George and Lauren's slave contract.
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The immediacy of his binding my wrists startled me. I felt the look of panic on my face, and not wanting to give my fear away, I remained facing forward staring out the windshield.
"Are you ok?" he asked.
I didn't reply but shook my hands, testing to see how much wriggle room he had given me. There wasn't much. I wanted to speak and tell him to let me go. I was claustrophobic and had reached my limit almost the moment he had locked the car door.
But I was too head strong for that. I had committed to 48 hours with this man.
I pulled the zip-ties hard against the O-ring embedded in the car's dashboard, but that caused pain. Too much pain. I liked rough sex and BDSM, but I wasn't thrilled about pain. I also didn't get off on bondage. So, what was I doing in this guy's car?
I am a History professor. An American. So, it was a round-about set of decisions that had landed me in this man's car in Surry, England.
In my daily professional life, I was a college administrator and mentor to both faculty and students. I was known as a person with strong opinions.
In my private life, I was often the same. I demanded near perfection in the men I dated. Most of them didn't last more than one or two encounters.
But physically, I was entirely submissive. And in my sex life, I didn't want to mix my pleasure with emotions or drama. So, it was natural that I should eventually find myself excited by being a sex slave, because it was a game of precision and control.
I enjoyed setting limits with a master and knowing that he'd follow them. I liked the knowledge that when I said "red" the play would stop immediately, and I'd be safe.
I also liked the fact that any time prior to my safe word, I wouldn't know what to expect. It was this structured adventure that appealed to me.
This Dom, however, had not told me he was going to start the session in the car park!
I continued pulling at the restraints, getting myself worked up and scared. By the time I started thrashing my arms, I was ready to get out of the car and end the session.
It was only plastic against the metal O-ring, but it was making a hell of a lot of noise anyway.
"Jesus." he mumbled under his breath.
"What?" I asked him. I turned for a moment and looked at him as I twisted and pulled the ties. I was pretty sure I was wringing my face at the same time. I know my pupils had dilated.
"Nothing. Just keep doing that. Keep pulling against the ties."
The way he stared at me was compelling. I was quite obviously afraid, and he decided his best reaction to my fear was to become aroused.
We'd definitely be having a chat about that when the session was over.
I kept wrenching against the taut white plastic, but not because he commanded it. My pulse raced and climbed into my chest and arms, because I didn't really know this man at all. Crap! I'd never even video chatted with him. I'd only seen still pics.
We'd been chatting online for three months, but that doesn't mean you know a person. I've found that people can keep up a good lie for much longer than three months. Especially if lying would get a woman into their car and bound to their dashboard.
I started breathing heavy and put more effort behind trying to get loose. The sharp flexible cords dug into my skin. I couldn't see them very well in the dark, but I felt that my wrists were turning red the longer I exerted myself.
"That's it. Keep struggling. I like that." His voice had dropped, so I assumed he was becoming even more excited by my movements against the ties.
I'd been in the car less than five minutes and was already reaching the point of a panic attack. How the hell was I going to cope with the next 48 hours?
When I spoke, my voice was a cross between asking and pleading.
"Please. Can we go? I'm not thrilled with this position. I'd just like to get going, so I can get out of here."
He started the car, put it in gear and pulled out from the space. The movement jarred me a little and the ties dug into my skin. I winced.
As we began the short drive to his house, I started deep breathing exercises. I'd begun a bit of training a couple of months ago when he first mentioned some of the things he wanted to do to me. I felt fear and disgust even discussing the topics with him online, so I knew I needed some training before our actual meet.
Luckily, we lived 6000 miles apart which gave me a three-month window where I anticipated the session. This had incentivized me to train my skills and endurance.
For the past weeks leading up to this moment, I'd prepared myself for several things in the contract— anal penetration, deep throating, dealing with piss... but I'd neglected to train for bondage.
I pulled against the cords again.
"What are you feeling?" he asked me as he kept his eyes forward on the road.
"I-I'm scared," I admitted. "And claustrophobic. And I really don't like this feeling at all. I know I agreed to this, but it doesn't feel fun or exciting."
He laughed. "It's not supposed to be fun for you. The fun is for me. And I think this is definitely exciting."
Whoa. This was new. The other Doms I had known would not have laughed at my situation. They'd have felt bad that I was scared. They would have offered to let me out by now. They were really nice guys... all of them. Gentlemen and quite concerned that I had as much satisfaction and fun as they did.
Was this guy a
real
Dom? Had I finally found someone who was
