The Resort Pt. 01

I'm glad we again went with the blindfolds, because I do so enjoy what they call sans vue (or dans le noir ) dining. I love the anticipation and the momentary puzzlement and the sudden awareness of what it is you're eating and drinking. I adore how the loss of one sense stimulates the others, how it arouses the taste buds and heightens your receptivity to aromas and textures as well as the flavours. Admittedly, it can get messy if you are not vigilant, and with your hands bound as well you have to really concentrate on what you're doing. It means you need to focus fully on your meal, which adds to your appreciation. It elevates the simple art of dining to a skill, and that's what the best bondage is all about. It doesn't limit your experience, but rather enhances it.

On the other hand, dining with my cantankerous cousin can be a hardship. At one point our waitress must have spilt something, because Daniel complained after she'd gone away.

I told him to stop whingeing. "It's not easy for her, you know."

"What's the big deal?" he demanded.

"Think about what it's like to be working in chains," I replied.

"I won't have to," he said.

"Why not?"

"I'm not female."

"You're not human."

"Both of you, please give it a rest," Richard growled.

As we finished, the maîtresse told us that the blindfolds were ours to keep. Rachel and I left them on as Richard and Daniel took us out onto the terrace to savour the exquisite cold caress of the evening sea breeze. My skin tingled as the goosebumps rose on my legs and arms... such a delicious torment. And while I love to see the moon glisten on the water, as with dining sightless there is something very romantic about being in the dark and relying on your other senses for illumination. It's as if you can actually feel the moonlight on your body. We stayed a while, then went back upstairs.

Rachel and Richard retired almost immediately. Daniel agreed to untie me so I could write up my diary, on condition that I first make him his cocoa -- a fair trade, although just to be spiteful he insisted that I do it with my hands still bound. Of course, I could have easily freed myself, and there was not much he could have done about it; but that would be wimpy. I can brew a mug of cocoa with one hand tied behind my back, so with two hands tied in front the job's a piece of cake.

In any case, this is something I will have to get used to -- being bossed around by males. It comes with the bondage, which is not about equality. How could it be true bondage if it were? But it's not about hopeless inequality either. It's a package deal, so to speak. If you derive joy from submission to the ropes, you commit yourself to submission to whoever is applying the ropes, and that should also bring joy. The relationship is consensual and mutually pleasurable, but it is asymmetrical. And, of course, sometimes there will be occasions when I'm not in the mood to be tied up; sometimes there will be guys who don't appeal to me who will set their sights on tying me up. It will always, ultimately be up to me to decide, but having made my choice to come here, live here and work here, I am willing to give up my freedom. That's the beauty of bondage; and on Aranea it's the price of paradise. I would no more want to exchange places with my cousin than he would with me.

Once freed of my obligations, I retired to my room to write the first entry of this, my new journal. It has taken almost till midnight, but even as I finish up and prepare for bed I'm not in the least bit sleepy. The excitement of finally being here on Aranea Island, wondering what thrills and adventures await, will keep me awake for a while yet.