Thesis Pt. 02

Chapter 4: First Contact

Jenny's Recollections

A few days after my meeting with Angela, she sends me an e-mail: "Dear Jenny," it says. Angela's e-mails always sound like letters. "I hope you have been thinking about your proposed exploratory investigation." So now it's 'my proposed investigation' I think. "Contact Inward Bound and see what they have to offer. At this stage, I think you should regard this as a pilot project as we discussed and I think you should approach them as an ordinary client. I'm sure you'll agree that their approach might be different if you state your academic interest right away. As I've always said the foundation of good field work is minimum bias and maximum objectivity. As far as funding is concerned, it will depend on their fees, of course, but I hope we can use some of my Endowment Funding. Best wishes, Prof."

When I first looked at the Inward Bound website, I was amazed, curious, intrigued and delighted, in that order. From a research point of view I can agree with the Prof: it was fascinating. I have seen some similar sites, but they were in the USA or Eastern Europe and almost without exception they are focused pretty much exclusively on the fantasies of male submissives. Angela's enthusiasm has made me more than a little nervous, though. From what we had shared together, I can imagine that her interest in Inward Bound might be more than academic and it wouldn't be with her joining in as one of the consensual slaves. I am still worried that she might see this as some opportunity to revive our personal relationship.

On a personal level, Inward Bound could offer me the chance to fulfil the sort of fantasies that had been with me since I was a young teenager, things that I hadn't shared even with Angela when we were together. Sure, I would prefer to be playing this sort of game with Joe, but he felt it was not "appropriate". It's strange. Joe and I have this really open relationship; we can talk about anything, but somehow when it comes to this the shutters come down. Maybe it's me or maybe it's him. I found it difficult to say what I wanted; he found it difficult to take the lead. What ever it is, it hasn't really worked out for us. The vanilla sex was fine – he was kind and loving and friendly and it was great. The trouble was it wasn't enough. But I would rather be playing with Joe. Wouldn't I?

I try to put my personal interests and my feelings about Joe to one side. In the context of what I am supposed to be doing, they aren't going to help with objectivity! Still, it's hard not to think about him. And us.

I'm looking at the home page of the Inward Bound web site. "Inward Bound" it says in a professional looking style with sober colours. "The place to explore your submissive fantasies in depth. Join us for the chance to experience consensual slavery. Extended courses let you lose yourself in your wildest dreams."

I must have looked at this site twenty times, or more. At first, I thought it was too good to be true;. Each aspect of what Inward Bound claimed to do pulled at my own desires and spoke to what I felt might be the research needs, too. I wrote notes on the site for discussion with Angela, but I kept being drawn back again and again. I almost knew the content by heart: the facilities that they had; the range of programmes they ran; the sort of experiences that the slaves, or as they called it "participants" could expect; the importance they saw in helping participants take each step along their own personal journeys. I guess you might think that showed more than professional interest, and I think you would be right.

I suppose that I just sort of fall towards a decision. I have the opportunity; Joe will be away for nearly three months over the summer. I have the motive; the chance to find out finally, if this flavour of sexuality is as exciting in fact as it is in my head. Best of all, I have the alibi; it really will be pioneering ethnographic research. Won't it?

So here I am, looking at the Inward Bound web site again. I've told Angela that I'm prepared to do it. She has told me she can get the funding. She's promised there no more to it than research. I still don't think I believe her but I'm not going to stop.

At the top of the page it says, "Register For More Information Now." I'm looking at the on-line online form that I have just completed.

Name, age, e-mail contact and mobile number. It could be a holiday booking site.

Level of experience of BDSM. Sexual likes and dislikes. So, not like many holiday booking sites there.

There's a part where they ask about my general medical history and rather some more specific questions about my sexual history. It's embarrassing in one way to be exposing this, but the questions are very politely asked and the anonymity of the computer makes it easier.

"How long could I stay?" the form asks and then "What would I like to achieve?" That's a difficult question and I'm not even sure I know the answer. Plus of course, I don't want to say anything about the university. I look at what I've typed in. "To understand my submissive responses better." It sounds a bit lame, but it will do. And it's true. It's probably not all of the truth, but it is at least true.

Finally, there is the inevitable "where did you hear about us?" I tick the box marked "Second Skin Magazine" and now the last box is gently and seductively blinking at me: "Send?", "Send?", "Send?", "Send?"

With a stab of adrenalin running through my body, I press the return key and send the form!

At once I'm thinking, "Gee, what have you done, girl? Was that really wise?" Joe is not easy at all with my thoughts of master / slave games. What if I find out I really enjoy it as much as I enjoy my fantasies? Where does that leave Joe and me?

Before I can think too much about it, a new box opens on the screen. "Dear Jenny. Thank you for your enquiry. We're delighted that you've decided to get in touch with us. This is an automated reply, but Charlotte will try to call you tomorrow and will leave you an e-mail if she cannot reach you. Best wishes and thanks again from the Team at Inward Bound."

And again, I'm caught between conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I'm taken aback to get a response so quickly, perhaps even a little uneasy that a reply came at all. On the other hand, I'm reassured by the tone of the Inward Bound reply; it seems friendly and very professional. And, now I feel I am in a corner. I am going to have to follow this through.

I go to bed. A large whiskey helps me into a deep sleep.

I wake up really rested. My mind turns over the jobs for the day and I'm asking myself why I feel so relaxed and good? At the back of my mind, though, I'm feeling that there is something difficult to do today. Then I remember Inward Bound and a stab of anxiety drives me out of bed, to the bathroom and then downstairs to breakfast. I'm fretting about whether I've done the right thing. The feeling is still with me as I leave the flat and start my journey to the university.

It's 10 am – or just after. I have a lot to do today and I am in the middle of setting out the day when my mobile rings. My eyes are still scanning down my list of "work" e-mails as I casually answer, feeling slightly irritated about the early interruption. The unfamiliar voice on the phone jerks me back to full attention.

"Hi, is that Jenny?"

"Yes."

"Hi, it's Charlotte." There's a pause. "...Look, I'm sorry to catch you at work, but did you send us an enquiry form through our web site last evening?"

"Erm, erm, yes, I did, actually." I feel embarrassed, as If I'd been caught doing something I shouldn't have. Charlotte laughs. It's friendly, understanding, a laugh that encourages me to let down my guard.

"Great. Look, I was just calling to make a first contact." Her voice is light and she sounds approachable. "If you would like to take your enquiry a little bit further, I would normally arrange to meet you maybe at your place or over coffee in town which is often best. I'm sure there will be other things you want to know. I can give you more information before you take any more definite steps. And I'll want to make sure that our programme will fit in with what you are looking for, too."

She stops. I can't think of anything to say.

"Would you like that?" Charlotte says. "Just to find out more? Maybe next week?"

My mouth is a bit dry now and I'm sure my voice is shaking. "Erm, yes please, erm thank you. Yes. Yes definitely."

So, a week later, here I am in a quiet corner of Café Nero and absolutely on cue a girl about my own age saunters in. Tall, slender, athletic looking. Blond hair, folded into a French pleat. Piercing blue eyes, pale skin; she could be Scandinavian, I think. Blue jeans and white blouse under a leather jacket. She has cowboy boots on and carries a rather informal, but smart leather brief case. The jacket, boots and bag all match, in the same soft tan leather. In a word – class. She pauses and calls a number on her mobile. My mobile rings. So, this must be Charlotte. Heavens: this really is for real, then?

Charlotte sees me reach for my phone. She smiles, comes over and puts her hand and rather familiarly on my shoulder. "Hi, Jenny, I'm Charlotte." She sits down. "Good to meet you." She looks at my still full coffee cup. "Do you want another she asks?" I shake my head. "I'll get myself some water."

Moments later she is back. She opens her brief case. Forms. The whole world runs on forms these days. Even people in the fetish world have forms. She can see I'm nervous.

"Look, I'll start if that's all right. Usually, it takes applicants a while to get their heads around the fact that this could really happen for them, so it probably easier if I lead off and then I'll let you ask questions afterwards. OK?"

I nod, grateful that she's taking the lead, pleased that in spite of her ice maiden looks, she's friendly and approachable.

"Well, there are one or two more things we have to know about you, mainly psychological outlook and some more medical. The thing is that the whole idea is for you to enjoy the course, but as it can be a bit demanding...." Charlotte smiles at me. I grin back. "As it can be a bit demanding it's important we know were we are starting from with each of our applicants. We need to be able to exercise our Duty of Care and we can only do that on the basis of the right information. I hope it's OK with you to go through this now?" I nod in response. "We do hold the data on computer, but we would rather not scatter your answers across cyberspace. We take data protection very seriously."

As I make my way through the questionnaires, I can see why! Finally, I finish the forms and pass them across to Charlotte. "So what happens now?" I say.

"Well, let's see." Charlotte thumbs through some of the questionnaires. "OK. You are really pretty much a complete novice, apart from this," she's looking at the part of the form where I had to list previous relationships with details of any BDSM activities involved. "It sounds as though it gave you some experience of power exchange. Oh, I like this –"

"What?"

"This bit here: 'I would like to find out if this type of sexual trip is as exciting in reality as it is in my head.' – that's very helpful. I think you will find the answer is 'yes', by the way."

Hmmm. Yes for me but is that good for Joe and me, I wonder?

Charlotte leans forward. "Jenny," she says, "here is where we go now. We run the courses four times each year and the next will start in June. There will be other people on each course. There could be both boys and girls. You don't have to interact," Charlotte winks in a meaningful way, "if you don't want to or if that is a Red Line Issue for you. You will experience what it is like to be a slave, to follow orders, to be punished if you fail to follow them, to have your freedoms restricted, to be trained to perform better."

I gulp, a little uncomfortable. If I'm honest I'm a bit turned on at this point; sitting in these very ordinary surroundings with this attractive woman discussing these extraordinary ideas.

Charlotte gives me an encouraging smile. "It's very important to us that you feel safe at all times. We will give you a safe word which you can use at any time to stop the action. However, one of the features of these courses is that they will help you to push against your limits, so we like to encourage participants to keep going as long as they can. To help you through, we give you a 10% financial rebate at the end, if you have managed not to use any of your lifelines so to speak."

I nod.

"One other thing. We also need you to let someone you trust know where you are going and they get a contact phone number – a landline number which is traceable by the phone people – to get you in emergency. You get a "safe call" to them when you arrive to confirm you are OK. Again, that's designed to help you to feel safe, but of course it's a bit of an insurance policy for us, too."

"Now, assuming you still want to go through with this. Sometime next week I will send you an e-mail consent form which you have to sign and return as hard copy to our business PO box and also a booking form to confirm when you would like to come. And also you'll need to make payment! We need you to pay in advance for each month, so if you were following a two month course, you will need to tell your bank when to make the second payment. If you've any questions in the mean time you can just e-mail me. Use the questions@IWB as the address and don't forget to give your name, so I can deal with it."

It all seems pretty clear. I say, "Thanks. Yes, That's fine. Yes."

Charlotte starts to pack up her papers. "Well, is there anything you want to ask me now?"

I don't really know what to say. I think for a moment and then blurt out. "Have you done the course?"

Charlotte smiles. "Oh, I've had a lot of involvement in the courses," she says, "but not really as a participant. Some people are better at giving instructions and some people are better at taking them, don't you think?" She looks straight into my eyes.

I try to respond nonchalantly but it just comes out as a muffled whimper. Charlotte grins. "OK, Jenny that's me done!" She leans forward and kisses me on the cheek: not a sexual kiss, more like two girl friends together. She smells nice. Something from Santa Maria Novella? "I really hope we meet up again soon! Bye!" And with that, she's gone.

One week later, to the day, I open my e-mail in-box and there is the Inward Bound e-mail from Charlotte, "Hi, Jenny. As promised, here is your consent form and booking confirmation form. Booking and payment is electronic – just click the link. The consent form has to be printed out, signed and sent as hard copy to the address you will see at the end of my note. Best wishes, Charlotte."

Oh boy, what do I do now? This really is decision time. I know Joe will be away for the best part of three months from mid May. He gets back in early August. Inward Bound's next course starts in early June. My teaching commitments will be over in June. And the financial bit is being paid for by Prof.

Putting the research angle to one side, I ask myself how do I feel deep down? Deep down, I want to do it. To see how far it is. To find if I really am as I think I am …

Later that day, Prof has a few free moments and I take the e-mail and blank copies of the forms to her in her study. I don't want her to see the version I finally signed. I could imagine the snide remark when she saw that I said I didn't want to be involved in direct sexual contact. I also didn't want to have to defend the fact that I'd consented to being marked or pierced subject to agreement at the time it happens, Angela had always been keen for me to have my nipples pierced but I'd resisted at the time. Now it sounded quite sexy but I knew that she'd be irritated.

She reads them through carefully. Fortunately she doesn't ask me how much I've been prepared to sign up for. "OK, so it looks as if June is the time. I can manage to cover the fees from the endowment funds." She peers at me over her glasses. "I guess I can rely on you to help the fund out by coming back with the 10% discount?" Angela smiles indulgently, but it's going to be my bum on the line. I guess that's why she is smiling. "How long do you need to be there?"

I hesitate, "Err, well, I'm not…"

"Look," says Angela, "I think we should send you there for a couple of months. You will be much better placed to take stock of the situation after that. You will find it easier to get immersed in things over the longer period. It will help with an objective assessment of the research opportunities and challenges."

I can see the sense in what the Prof is saying, but what her motives might be worries me.

"Actually, I like their approach."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, they talk about Duty of Care, and they have seriously addressed the idea of Informed Consent. They leave you with a channel of communication to someone on the outside. I can do that for you, if you like. That's good. Very well thought out. You seem to be in the hands of professionals."

I hadn't thought about who would be my life line. The Prof is the obvious choice I guess. So I'll be in the hands of professionals. Yes, and I will also be in the hands of Professor Dawney, my former lover, my life line to the outside, my link to the real world.

In the mean time, I can look forward to Joe's getting back and working out how to tell him what I'll be doing during his next trip. If I tell him what I'll be doing during his next trip.

1. Chapter 5: Goodbye & Hello

Joe's been home for three weeks and he's going back to Cambodia soon. This has been a good break. I managed to grab some time for us to be together out of the teaching and research schedule. We've even managed a couple of days away in this really cosy hotel up on the Yorkshire coast, not far from Whitby. Joe seems more relaxed away from home. Maybe, if you travel as much as Joe does at the moment, you just feel more comfortable in hotels?

Whatever the reason, it's been good for us. We've walked on the cliffs and eaten good food and talked about nothing and shagged like rabbits and it's been great.

But, I nearly spoil it. I had told Joe that I would be away while he was, doing some field work for my thesis and I'm thinking how the accommodation at Inward Bound is probably going to be different from the slightly faded splendour of the hotel and I nearly tell Joe about what I'll be doing while he is away. But then I can't, I'm frightened to tell him straight and I get angry with myself and snap at him and Joe says what's got into me and I can't tell him and …. Oh, oh! This is all too complicated.

It's OK in the end, though. And we manage a making-up shag!

It all starts after lunch in the hotel when neither of us say very much and between us we finish a bottle of wine. When we get back to our room I say, "I'm sorry Joe, I didn't mean to get mad."

He says, "Don't worry. Come here," and takes me in his arms. He's gentle but firm as he pulls me towards him. I always like it when he does that. My head fits on his shoulder perfectly. I nestle closer and kiss his neck. "That's good," he says. He's just being nice but in my mind I'm hearing the words of a slave master. The only trouble is I want it to be Joe.

"You know I only want to please," I say, wishing that he would take me at my (unspoken) words.

"In which case, I'd better take you to bed," he responds. He pulls off his shirt. I like his body. It's fit; quite muscley. He smells sweet and musky. He takes my hand, steering me across the room. I let him lead me. As we fall on the bed I go to unfasten the belt of his trousers, it's what a good slave girl would do, after all. Joe laughs as I fumble with it and says, "Here let me." I can't stop him. He unfastens it, unzips his trousers and pushes them off. I try to pull his boxers off. "No," he says, smiling and trying to push my dress up, "let's take yours off."