Freed from the responsibility of my own actions, compelled by his orders, I felt myself
blossom beyond fear and hesitation and shame. I allowed myself to let go, to lose myself in the
strange dichotomy between pleasure and pain.
When he was holding me down, I felt free.
Maybe that was the inspiration I'd been searching for. Some kind of gift symbolizing
that part of our relationship, the thing that no one else knew - the secret game that was just
for us. But I was pretty sure he owned at least one of everything he could possibly want. Still,
maybe it was worth looking around.
I opened my computer, and within half an hour, I was wishing I hadn't.
Massage oils? Furry handcuffs? I moved on from those sites pretty quickly, stumbling
into a realm of contraptions that looked like steampunk costume accessories or Medieval
torture devices. Everything was so complicated. With Daniel, it was always so simple.
But at the same time, it wasn't.
There was nothing simple about the way my body and mind reacted when he left me
kneeling on the bed, my arms bound behind my back, blindfolded, in silence. But it didn't
require any deluxe harnesses or modified gas masks.
All I needed was him. Beyond that, any old tie or scarf or scrap of fabric would do.
He preferred to use a special rope that be bought handmade from an artisan near
Seattle, shipped in nondescript flat rate boxes that didn't even begin to hint at the contents
within. Then it would snake out - richly dyed in bright colors that stood out against my skin,
the hemp fibers digging in just hard enough to leave an indentation. He told me I looked
beautiful like that, and I believed him, without reservations, for the first time in my life.
But he already had more rope than he could possibly need. And anyway, I didn't know the company's name.