Be Careful Of What You Wish For

I have been working on her for a long time with little success. My fantasy is for her to experience bondage and discipline from a master. She is independent and obstinate to a fault. She will think nothing of biting her nose off to spite her face. You can imagine my challenge.

It all started when we came out of the closet. She found out about my sexual obsessions and I found out her fantasies. Since then a lot of the sexual tension that underscored our lives has dissipated. Those dirty little secrets weren't secrets anymore. They weren't dirty, either. Perhaps, prurient captures their essence better.

Her fantasies are pretty tame. She wants to be fucked hard and made to suffer an assault that leaves her breathless and totally sated. That's not how I like sex and try as I might, I can't give her the pleasure she craves. I can't be brutal enough for her (I don't like the idea of hurting anyone, least of all, her) and I'm not a good enough lover to know how to push all the right buttons, when, in what sequence and, of course, how hard to best satisfy her. Oh, I know all the buttons, I think, but playing her like a virtuoso through them is beyond my understanding.

She says she's happy with our sex life but if so, why her fantasies, or do we all have them regardless of how fulfilling our sex lives are? We've been together a long time so that gives some weight to her claim but still, if the fantasy persists there must be some unfulfilled need. So, her fantasy has become my fantasy.

She will never have sex with anyone except me. If she is to experience her fantasy she has to get past that. I have not been successful arguing and creating the conditions for her to change a lifetime's belief. She's not religious, it's just what she thinks a person of her age and situation should do. The alternative explanation is too depressing to consider: she doesn't enjoy sex (with me) enough to expend the emotional and physical energy needed to take that step. And, if that lack of interest is due in whole or part to me not having satisfied her enough to be willing, then you can see where this line of reasoning takes me. The plan is to broaden her knowledge and experience so taking that step becomes possible. I need a catalyst.

She is curious about BDSM but not obsessed with it. While her interest is passing she has expressed interest in being at a session to observe it firsthand. She has surfed the web looking for and watching it.

I researched BDSM and emailed doms. After a lot of soul searching I finally called a few to discuss what I was seeking. If they didn't or wouldn't do what I wanted I asked for recommendations for others and talked to them. I finally reduced the list to three candidates. None were local. I travel enough that over the course of a year or so I was able to meet each to discus and further refine my plan. What resulted was a tight cohesive script to take her to the very edge of what was possible. I made my choice.

Arrangements were made, schedules confirmed and money spent. I told her I had a most unusual birthday present for her that required we go out of town. Her curiosity piqued; she consented. We arrived in mid-afternoon, limoed to the hotel and settled in for a few hours before heading out for dinner. We had a cozy romantic meal on her birthday eve in an upscale restaurant where she had her favorite meal.

We were dressed semi-formally, though something we rarely do it was appropriate to the clientele seated around us. I wore a dark suit with a maroon silk tie. I have a weakness for Oscar de la Renta and a closet full of his ties. The maroon is my favorite and she knows it. She wore a cocktail dress that she bought for the occasion. That evening was the first time I saw it. Made of a shimmering dark green fabric it was cut to hang on her like skin. I loved the cowl neckline because of the possibility of it exposing her breasts, something I never tire of seeing. Of course, she knew my preferences and played to them.

She wore a green bra engineered to emphasize her breasts, not reveal them. A hemline that cut her at the knees, and a modest slit up one thigh with nude, strappy four-inch heels transformed her from an early, middle-aged housewife into a goddess with unlimited potential. Her hair, makeup and jewelry were appropriate but understated. She felt good about how she looked and I loved it. With good wine she was like putty by the time we were through. I could have asked for and received anything at that point. That was the point.

We taxied to a large discrete residence just outside the city center in an old part of town that still enjoyed the glory of its past and stood as a jewel among many. The house was of the Victorian style but with minimal gingerbread cues. Barely visible from the street, the landscaping was mature with large, beautiful trees and immaculately manicured lawns and gardens. It could easily be mistaken for a museum. There was a circular drive that was familiar to the taxi driver. As he turned in I noticed the driveway also went straight cutting between a carriage house to the right and the main residence on the left. Landscape lighting revealed a paved courtyard separating the two with a lit portico on the left to protect arriving and departing guests from the weather. A limousine was there, dropping off guests even though the weather was mild, clear, and dry. Attendants were in evidence assisting the arrivals. I wondered had we arrived earlier or in a limousine would we have been taken to the courtyard entrance?

The driver pulled to a stop at a permanently mounted awning covered in dark blue material. The gable end of the awning announced that this was the Hanover House in white script letters. An attendant was waiting for us. He was impeccably dressed and groomed. It wasn't a livery, per se but was carefully chosen, an understated but elegant presentation. He wore a smooth silver button in his lapel. Opening the door he helped Sophie out. She waited for me on a deep maroon carpet that followed the awning to the porch steps and then up to the entrance where another attendant, identical to the first was waiting for us.

As we approached I was not surprised to note a registered historic site plaque mounted to the left of the front doors. The attendant opened both doors with a bit of flourish and stepped aside allowing us to enter. Curiously, he did not respond when we thanked him. As the attendant at the curb, he merely smiled and bobbed his head. With his arm raised and hand held out he gestured us to enter where we were greeted by yet another attendant. He was standing square to the doors in an elegant foyer. His appearance was identical to the two attendants we had just met except that his lapel button was gold. After welcoming us to the Hanover House he held out his hand to me for our invitation. After briefly scanning it he smiled, took the duplicate and handed back the original in its envelope. Sophie still had no idea what I had planned but trusted my judgment to have arranged a perfect ending to an otherwise perfect evening. At his urging we followed him as he took us into the residence proper.

He led us down the hall, past a parlor, then a library, past several closed doors to a barrel vaulted passageway opening to the right. As we turned in I noticed another, similarly attired attendant had taken up the station our attendant had vacated by the front doors. The dark paneling, subtle lighting and rich floor coverings in the passageway announced the elegance and reserved good taste of the House. It smelled of rubbed and polished wood, and leather. The next attendant met us in another foyer, standing in front of an entrance to a large lounge. He wore a gold lapel button similar to the worn by our escort.

A short distance away stood a second attendant in conversation with other guests. Behind him was second entrance to the lounge. Because we had not seen any other guests since arriving I assumed they had entered through the courtyard. They were dressed more formally and elegantly than us. While I could not understand their conversation it seemed the attendant and they were familiar to each other. As their invitations changed hands I noticed their wax imprimaturs were red.

After handing us off our escort handed the duplicate invitation to the attendant, excused himself, and left. Our new attendant looked at the duplicate, placed it on a side table behind him and greeted us on behalf of the Hanover House. There were three stacks of invitations on the table. Ours was put on the left hand-most stack. The other stacks were smaller.

"You will notice there are three entrances leading from the lounge area behind me, each a different color. One matches the wax seal on your invitation, green. You are welcome to mingle with our patrons and help yourselves to food and beverages of your choice provided in the lounge. Your invitation indicates this is the first time you have visited us. Please do not feel isolated by your lack of familiarity with our protocols and returning patrons. More than a third of this evening's patrons are here for the first time, as well. Most of them will be in your theater.

"You are welcome to every part of the pavilion with one exception. The performers and stage areas may not be visited until after the evening's performances are complete. Thereafter, you may linger and engage the performers in their ready rooms and examine the stage and associated equipment. No beverages or food are allowed in the theater or its associated spaces at any time.

"You may retire from your theater early but we request you only do so between performances to allow the other patrons to enjoy themselves without interruption and, not the least of which, the performers. As a courtesy to all, please remain seated and silent throughout. Any questions? The lights in the lounge will dim signaling the performance is to begin in ten minutes. Once the performance starts no one will be allowed to enter until the first performance is complete, approximately twenty minutes later. If assistance is required there are attendants in the lounge to help. Food servers are not permitted to address the patrons; they may be distinguished by silver lapel buttons, similar to those worn by valets and ushers. In addition to providing general assistance, those with lapel buttons the color of your invitation will be the most help. Should you require special assistance please ask the Concierge. He is authorized to assist all patrons in all matters. He oversees Hanover House. He wears a boutonnière in lieu of a lapel button. His name is Graves, Mr. Graves.

"One final point, security is provided by attendants wearing black lapel buttons. You may rely on their discretion and professionalism to guarantee your safety and security. If they instruct you please do what they ask immediately. A great deal may rely on your cooperation and compliance. If an alarm sounds remain where you are until a security attendant arrives.

"With that, let me welcome you, again. If there are no further questions please enjoy yourselves and the performances. Watch your step, descending." He stepped aside entreating us to pass through the entrance to the lounge. We stepped out onto a small landing shared by the other entrance. A few steps were positioned at both ends for access to the lounge level. The lounge was long and high. Three large chandeliers hung from the ceiling comprised of many, small panels of faintly colored glass in every hue imaginable causing the lounge to be bathed in soft white light.

Perhaps fifty couples were in the lounge, some seated but most standing. Their distribution seemed centered in front of double-door theater entrances evenly spaced down the long side of the lounge opposite us. Each was fronted with leather dyed green, blue or red. By far the largest cluster of patrons was to the left in front of the green theater doors. Buffets were against the near, long wall on both sides of the landing behind us. Bars were set up on the short walls. It was very much like the grand concourse in a large theater. Actually, it was too elaborate for such a small gathering. But, the patrons' dress and appearance was what you would expect at a major theater concert. About half were wearing tuxedoes and evening gowns while the rest were dressed as we were. Again, my perception of the scene was the crowds by the blue and red theater entrances were more formally dressed.

Sophie was taking it in along with me. A brief moment after arriving an attendant with a gold lapel button approached asking to be of assistance. Explaining what was available he took our drink requests to the bar. The buffet was exclusively small finger food. None of it was messy or of a type to fill you. It became immediately clear that it was provided to facilitate a transition of newly arrived guests to the crowd of patrons. It was very subtle and appropriate. I took one, small canapé and thanked the attendant for my drink, single malt scotch, neat. Sophie took her cabernet sauvignon and we moved toward the far end to the green doors theater entrance.

"This is all so elegant and mysterious. Where are we and what are we going to see? And, look at all these men with subtle distinctions of rank and purpose. They could just as easily be impersonating characters in a charade, like Colonel Mustard and Professor Plum. It's all so theatrical, just short of being over done, and extravagant."

"As I understand it, it is done to heighten newcomers' curiosity like ours and increase the aura of exclusivity and dark purpose for returning patrons. It is intended to be consistent with the performances."

"What are the performances: singing, dancing, theatrical, performance art?"

"Ah, well, that's the surprise. Happy birthday, Sweetheart, may all your dreams come true." As if on cue the lights dimmed and slowly switched back and forth to the normal level. "Here we go." The hubbub of the crowd tailed off but excitement seemed to crackle in the air as patrons coalesced at the colored, leather covered doors. The theaters consumed their audiences slowly but steadily. We had started at the buffet area furthest from our theater's entrance. By the time we got there we were nearly the last to enter. Only late arrivals were behind us. An attendant with a green-colored lapel button greeted us at the door. Looking at our invitation he directed us to the first row, right of center.

Entering we found ourselves in a large open space with two dozen or so seats arrayed in a semi-circle around a slightly raised stage that conformed to the space defined by the seating arrangements. The seats were freestanding, upholstered in leather dyed the same color as the entrance doors. Generous space separated every pair of chairs from others. Ours were C1 and C2. Ushers were stationed between the sections to help patrons find their seats. It seemed pretty obvious which ours were so we went outside the section and walked to the front. Seated and comfortable Sophie leaned to me and softly said, "This is exciting!" and squeezed my hand. She had no idea. Admission to this venue was very, very expensive. I had paid a premium for the seats. It was money well spent if Sophie enjoyed herself. There was still some doubt of that. My greatest fear was that she would bolt after the first performance.

House lighting faded as the ushers removed themselves. A system of theatrical lighting suspended from the ceiling highlighted the center front of the stage. Stepping into it was the attendant with the green lapel button. Behind him were dark shapes of props, their shapes and textures looked vaguely industrial.

He greeted and thanked us for attending before telling us the evening would have three performances of approximately twenty minutes duration each with a five-minute break between them.

He explained this theater was designated for new and first-time patrons. As such, he would occasionally provide information about the performances throughout to give the patrons a better understanding of what was transpiring. At the conclusion of the last performance patrons were encouraged to meet the performers and examine their props. As he concluded his remarks Sophie reached over and grabbed my hand. Squeezing it she turned to me with a smile and pantomimed a kiss before returning her attention to the stage.

The stage darkened and then slowly lit revealing a man and woman. She appeared to be in her twenties, him older by at least a decade. She was very tall (made even taller by her high heels), slender and very attractive. He was stocky, swarthy and his head shaved bald. She wore a simple flower print dressing gown. He was in a skin-tight black t-shirt and black jeans. "This evening's first performance is a demonstration of different restraint techniques with rope. Rest assured that our performers will not be hurt or harmed. Stacy is unusually flexible. She is quite capable of taking and holding contorted positions without being restrained by the rope that you may find uncomfortable imagining yourselves attempting. She will assume the final restrained position before Max binds her to demonstrate her flexibility. Please proceed."

Stacy smiled at the audience and opened her dressing gown. Sliding it off her shoulders she let it fall to the floor revealing her nakedness; she stood before us wearing only her high-heeled shoes. An assistant came out and removed the gown from the floor. Returning to the stage he handed Max coil of rope. Max placed a hand on her back to direct her to a small platform elevated about two feet off the floor and steadied her as she stood on it. Now sure of herself she bent and folded her limbs to assume a position that resulted in her squatting with her thighs resting on her calves, and her arms behind her back with forearms stacked, palms out. Her knees were slightly spread. He released a latch that allowed him to walk the platform full circle exposing Stacy's body to the audience from all angles. Her breasts and genitalia were clearly visible. A neutral expression and calm acceptance of her situation prevented it from becoming salacious.

I looked at Sophie to find her returning my gaze with a surprised and questioning expression. So far so good. Max steadied her and the platform as she returned to the stage floor. She stood up and shook her arms out before returning them to their position behind her back and turning sideways. Max started in with the rope coiling it around her forearms. The attendant now explained that while Stacy was being bound another binding technique would be demonstrated. The stage rotated to reveal another pair. This time it was two women. One was dressed in black leather, the other in a dressing gown. Of similar size and age the one in the dressing gown looked very Midwestern, blonde, high forehead, strong chin, blue eyes and so on while the dominatrix was a dark brunette with heavy makeup, red lipstick and nail polish.

Behind them stood a large metal ring assembly that turned out to be gimbaled, like a ship's compass. Latches were used to lock the gimbals and stand so that the naked performer could mount and position herself within the inner ring. Taking a pose reminiscent of da Vinci's Vitruvian Man, her feet rested on pads attached to the ring, her hands grabbed bars further up the ring. The dominatrix signaled off-stage for an assistant to attach the performer to the pads and grabs. Sturdy leather straps attached to the ring at each point were used to bind her to them. Large heavy brass buckles secured the straps. The assistant was dressed identically to the one tying Stacy up with rope.

At the dominatrix's signal the assistant unlocked the gimbals and stand, and slowly rotated them to position the performer in positions exposing her body and its parts to the patrons. Nothing was left to our imaginations. Returning the performer to a full upright position and the rings nested within each other the assistant locked them in place before retreating from the spotlight. The dominatrix took what looked like a riding crop from the table behind her and switched it in front of her. Leather tabs at the end had been replaced with a downy feather.