Phan/ta*sy - 1. The image-making power: esp., the power of receiving and reproducing external impressions.
Phantasy colliding with reality often bruises more than just an ego. I hate blind dates; they are the most enigmatic of societies mating rituals, and are fraught with hope, fear and unrealistic expectations. I have got to learn to say 'no', or at least get a more dependable excuse. The woman I'm about to pick up for this date, was arranged for by the hostess of the last 'less than successful' party I attended. If I met her there, I sure don't remember it.
'Ok dummy; smile pretty, she is probably feeling the same dread we are.' That was what I told myself as I walked up her front steps. Which is another reason why these things don't work out, predesignation by both parties. Or maybe I'm just nuts, after all I'm talking to myself in the 'plural' - how crazy is that.
Most of this date will be spent in the dark, literally. I don't generally like foreign films, but this festival comes highly recommended and the ticket prices were very good. A little sushi, some wine and in six hours it will be tomorrow. I will survive.
I wonder if she knows her door bell doesn't work? I grab my cell-phone and make a quick call. She answers, apologizes for the wait and comes to the door about three minutes later. I step inside for a minute, hit my head on some hanging potted plant in the doorway and she makes another excuse. Back outside I open the car door for her and we are en route to a little Japanese eatery. Small talk; polite conversation with minimal eye contact, she doesn't seem particularly nervous. I don't derive that from anything in particular except that she seemed content to just ride, and not talk for some portions of the trip.
I like that, shows she is confident enough to not have to talk all the time. That she has poise enough to not try and carry the conversation when there is nothing in particular to say.
Dinner was good. She handled the porcelain and lacquer well. We'll see later how well she handles the plum wine, that stuff takes a while to hit bottom. We skipped dessert, with the promise of ice cream after the film festival.
A French flick had already started when we arrived. No subtitles, and I understand very little French. Considering how much time the three principal characters spent naked, I didn't need interpretation to follow the plot. Forty minutes later we are watching a Spanish or Portuguese film about fishing or bull fighting, but I never did figure out which. It was great fun though, we just sat there making up our own subtitles. She is very quick witted and funny. We enjoyed ourselves so much that the usher had to come by and us to 'tone it down'.
We take a break for popcorn and the toilet, then we stroll into an oriental 'pink' movie. Lots of single source lighting, guys with swarthy complexions contrasted against milk skinned geishas. The Oriental beauties were frequently tied up with coarse looking rope and being raped by their dates. Oops that's a Freudian slip there, sorry. I meant: being raped by their bandit-abductor-captors.
We leave before the credits, heading for the sweet shop on campus. Chocolate cones for each, and we stroll back to the car. We discuss the merits of Asian movie making, or at least the simplicity of the art form.
Then this little devil popped up in my head, and I asked her if she had ever been tied up like the women in the 'pink' film. I should have asked her how she 'felt' about it, that would have been smarter. Of course she said 'no', but it didn't sound unequivocal to me. Then I had to ask if she wanted to give it a try. Well if that's not going from dumb to dumber I don't know what is. To my amazement she said . . . 'maybe'. Well that was just too good an opportunity to ignore, so I went for broke.
"I would love to tie you up." I said.
She didn't miss a beat and said.
"I'll bet you would." I deserved that; shot down in flames, but then nothing ventured etc, etc. "It's getting late. Thank you for an interesting evening." She said.
We ended the date with much the same ride back to her flat. Well I was right about one thing. It's tomorrow and I've survived another blind date.
Monday evening I get home from work and there is a card from the previous blind date. It is a 'thank-you' card of sorts, but contains an invitation for dinner at her flat this coming weekend. I didn't know what to think about it at first, then decided it would have to be an improvement over the past weekend. At least now we had one common experience. I figured she has forgotten my blunder after the ice cream shop, or at least was willing to over look it.
Wrong on both counts. I arrive at her flat, ring the phone, which she doesn't answer, but the door opens. She has a roommate. A dark haired girl of Asian origins. She bows, bids me enter and I am instructed to remove my shoes. The room looks like they have the same interior decorator as the sushi bar. Across the room she; her name is Janet, is sitting next to a low table. She is wearing a kimono, the same milky white skin the movie geishas' had, and is tied up with a similar looking coarse rope.
I needed two hands to push my jaw back up. I stammered through my greeting for a good two minutes, unable to take my eyes off of her. The roommate, her name was jewel, or jade or some semiprecious stone, helped me to sit down. She served tea, soup, pickles and fish with rice. She fed Janet while I watched with fascination. I don't really remember eating anything, but I could tell you what Janet's every bite looked like. I never wanted this meal to end.
Pearl, I think; or maybe it was Penny, said it was time to go to the parlor and be entertained. I thought I was being entertained. She helps Janet stand up, and I discover her feet are bound as well. She can take steps of only an inch or two. I offer to help move her and am abruptly told that I may not touch her in any way.
In the parlor Janet is made to kneel on a small mat. Her back is toward me, and I am shown to the place where I am to sit. Penny or Yen; I forget, walks around to the front of Janet, opens her kimono and proceeds to open Janet's. Soon both women are naked to the waist, except Janet is still tied up.
Both of the women have a painting on their backs, which when they press together forms a landscape or picture map. Yen or Yan speaks
"Come touch the place where life begins."
I did not have the faintest idea what she meant. I guess it was soon obvious to them, because Janet then said . . .
"Study the picture and decide where the path begins and ends. Be as wise as you know how to be."
Great, now I'm in the middle of a dating game that is trying to determine my psychological underpinnings. Why couldn't this just be about my sexual IQ, come to think of it that's not a good idea either. Okay dredge up the psy-101 mental notes. Don't blow this.
I take another long look and decide the road mainly goes from Yan or Yu's left floating rib to Janet's right collar bone, with a tributary running up from Janet's butt. In a flash of insight I decide that the tributary must be the key. Then I remember Pearl or Penny telling me not to touch Janet, and decide that I will touch where the path starts near her floating rib, it is the only place that fits with all the instructions received to present.
"Why did you touch Opal?" was what Janet said. I couldn't read any emotion in the tone, no clue how to respond.
"Because she said I may not touch you." Was what I stammered out.
"Wise answer." Responded Opal, with that she stood up, put her robe back on and walked out of the room.
"Where is she going?" I asked.
"Away." Was Janet's answer.
"Is she coming back?"
"Are you trying for inscrutable?" My patience was peaked.
"Well if you play you cards right, I may be very screw-able . . . " Now she really had my attention. "Then again maybe not."
"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" I asked.
"I don't necessarily need to be comfortable, in fact any discomfort I am feeling works to your benefit." She shifted to her left, giving me a profile view of her left breast. I could see that even with her clothing pulled from underneath the cords, she was still quite tightly bound.
"Without laying a hand on me can you add to my discomfort?"
"Certainly." I didn't know exactly what I was going to do, but trusted fate or luck to come to my aid.
"Do so please. I will tell you when to stop." Well time to think fast.
I walked over to her and pulled the mat out from underneath her. I then walked over to a vase of flowers, took the contents of the vase and poured them over her. She became wet and decorated with flowers at the same instant in time.
"Enough." She said. "I'm getting cold."
"When you're cold enough, let me know and I will towel you off. Assuming I have your permission to touch you." What a stroke of genius, I should write used car warrantee contracts. The look in her eyes had a smile in it somewhere. I'm sure of it. For several minutes she said nothing, just lying on the floor, amid the puddle of water and flowers.
"I'm ready; please call Opal and tell her to bring a towel," with that she sat up with surprising ease.
"Not necessary," and I pulled my shirt off over my head and used it to dry her shoulders, back and chest, without asking her permission to touch her. Then I pulled her to me, sharing my body heat and feeling hers.
"Our room is past the parlor on the right. Don't untie me, I want to be raped by a bandit . . . a wicked thief who wants to steal my heart, soul and virtue."
I pick her up and begin following her instructions. The room is mostly unfurnished. There are some mats, more rope and towels. I guess the flower pot trick didn't take her by surprise as I had thought. Well I'll have to do better with the rope, don't want her to be disappointed. I have this faint feeling that I'm being watched; but decide that no hazard is associated with it, and let it pass.
'Raped' implies without her consent, but she seems to be taking the lead here. Then the problem now becomes how to exceed her expectations within the limits of what I can, and am willing to do to her.
"Any discomfort you feel works to my benefit. Well let's explore that." I pick up the rope, loop it around her wrist bindings and pull up toward her neck. I pass the rope around her cheek into her mouth and tell her to bite down. When her heads begins to turn, yielding to the pressure being exerted by her arms, I offer to help her, sort of. I grasp the loose ends of the rope, continuing around her face, crossing the strands over the lead coming from her hands. I pull until the junction is centered behind her head and then make a knot
The muscles in her neck and shoulders are becoming very well defined. Her breathing is just a little ragged and her balance is becoming a bit precarious. I slide the remainder of her costume to the floor, such that she now stands before me naked. Her arms and head pulled back, thrusting her breasts forward. I take one of her nipples between my thumb and forefinger and slowly roll it. Gently at first, building in pressure and degree of rotation until I hear her gasp for breath, and then moan. I kept increasing pressure and tension until she softly screamed. Real pain as evidenced by the tears welling up in her eyes.
Eyes that were fixed on a hook hanging from the ceiling. I hadn't noticed that before, how thoughtful. I lift her out of her pool of cloths and set her under the loop dangling from the rafters. It is more than a foot out of my reach; but something will come to mind, as I scan the room for something to stand on. I decide next to make her lie down on a nearby mat. Taking the strands trailing away from the knot at the back of her head, I pass them through her ankle bindings, pull hard and knot them off on the far side of her ankles.
Strain in the tendons along the insides of her thighs seems to indicate that I got most of the arch her body can muster. Now her navel is the most forward part of her anatomy. The devil made me do this next thing. I rolled her onto her stomach, to see how well she rocked. I would pull her head up by the hair and let go, to see how much she moved. Never got her head to swing back up, her boobs kept dampening the downward arch. I left her on her stomach and went back to the parlor to get the chair I'd been sitting on during the 'entertainment'.
Upon returning I observed that more rope had been added to the collection, along with nipple clamps, gags, hoods and a considerable assortment of leather and metal toys. Janet was pretty much where I'd left her.
"Opal certainly is efficient," I said to no one in particular. "The only thing missing is duct tape."
"Janet is allergic to adhesives," came Opals' reply from somewhere near the closet.
"Am I allowed to ask for your help Opal?"
"Men don't usually ask for help," Opal responded.
"This isn't a usual date for me, and I want to make sure Janets' expectations are met." I said.
"You're asking the wrong person. Ask Janet."
"Not yet, maybe later," was what I thought I heard.
"Did she say not yet?" I asked Opal, who was already gone, vanished from the room, like she'd never been there.
"Well, so it's just you and me again. Where was I; oh yeah, your comfort index. Let's see what I can do about that."
I used the chair to thread some rope through the loop handing from above to make it more easily accessible. I picked up a ten-foot piece of rope and tied her legs together above the knees. I then take my dangling cord, attach it to the knee ropes and begin raising her legs in the air. I continued pulling until she was resting on her breasts and shoulders. Her chin was still a good three inches off the floor.
I picked up the twin chrome beetle clips and lifted her left shoulder and breast off the floor. I then attached the first clip to the exposed nipple. When I released the shoulder, she rolled back on the breast and screamed. In order to clip the remaining breast, I had to lift her entire chest off the floor. That was because she was lying on the connecting chain. So I just grabbed a handful of hair and lifted. I got the clip on before her hair slipped out of my fingers. What a howl that was, and she didn't drop more than an inch or two. Good thing she hit during her exhale, or it might have alarmed the neighbors.
I decide it is time to do something about her ability to make noise, otherwise there could be unplanned meetings with the other residents. I look through the pile of stuff Opal left in the room, but everything would require untying her head, and I'm not ready to do that just yet. I decide to use my hankie and just poke it in around the cords between her teeth. At first she didn't get what I was trying to do, but eventually I got it packed into her mouth.
I'm still kneeling next to her, wondering what to do with her next, when I realize that my legs are going to sleep, and the way she is tied up has no possibilities for intercourse. Stress and cramping is taking its toll on my knees, it surely must be getting to Janet. I check her eyes, they are closed when first I view them, then she seems to sense my looking at her and she blinks them open. She is near to tears, it is time to rescue her from my dark side. I think she tried to smile.
I release the rope holding her knees off of the floor, and begin untying her feet when Opal speaks from somewhere near the doorway.
"She isn't ready. Do not be soft hearted, she can endure much more."
"I can't deliberately make her cry." I say, and I believe it.
"Her tears are for joy. She needs to feel pain, it makes pleasure so much sweeter. She can endure much more."
"Yeah, you said that, but I don't believe it."
"Leave her and come, I have something to show you."
I finish untying her knees and walk toward Opal's voice. She shows me to the adjoining bedroom, where one wall is lined with computers and video equipment. She pulls out a chair and sits down in front of an editing console.
"You are not the first to sample our charms, please not to be offended." The monitor in front of her blinks to life and I watch with fascination as a stocky Midwestern man proceeds to suspend Janet by ropes tied around her breasts.
"I didn't think that was possible," was what I said, what I meant was that has got to be impossible, it should rip muscles and tissue.
"She can endure much more," must be Opals' favorite expression. I can certainly understand how she came to that conclusion. "She will tell you when she's ready."
"So I should pull the gag back out?"
"No, she'll spit it out when she's ready."
"Maybe, maybe not." I think I was just challenged again.
Opal indicated toward the doorway, and I returned to Janet. Still not sure what course of action next to take, I decided to survey her bindings and repair any loose or pinched points. That was fun; for me anyway, pushing and pulling on her arms, torso and legs. She put up with the poking and prodding quite well. That finished I decided to stand her up and hang her from the loop in the room.
I pulled upward on her neck rope until each heel was two inches off the floor. She is staring at some point on the wall, working very hard to maintain her equilibrium. I pull on the chain connecting her nipple clamps, and her gaze returns to me. I have her undivided attention once again. I continue pulling on the chain, as the nipples stretch away from her breast. Eventually the clips lose their grip and pop off the individual buds. The right nipple was first, and a small cry issued from her gagged mouth. The left nipple was fantastic, when it bounced free the whole breast moved, first in toward her chest, then up toward her clavicle before coming to rest on her rib cage. It was accompanied with a long low pitched wail, immediately preceded by a much higher pitched yelp.
Her eyes are moist and now I think so is her groin. I can smell woman juices and the small brown patch between her legs is glistening with moisture. Time to release her ankle bindings. One snip of the anchor loop and freedom for the feet is forthcoming. Next I relax the neck rope, just enough to let her heels touch the floor.
"Spread your legs," I tell her. Then I begin fingering her pussy, while watching her face. She looks very content with herself, so I pull back up on the neck rope. Can't have her attention drifting away and put an end to any thoughts of orgasm forming in her noodle. I drop my pants, and lie down on the floor, between her legs.
"Come ride the nice pony." I tell her.
"Condom," she replied.
"Next to the leather goods." Says Opal.
"Thanks Opal?!," And I shuffle through the pile to find it.
I don't know exactly why, but I couldn't finish the job. Ten, maybe more minutes later I tell her this is not working. Maybe it's the idea that Opal might be watching, or that I'm being video taped. Janets' whole body is glistening with sweat from her efforts to get me to ejaculate.
"Let's try this standing up," I say, and Janet dismounts. I was going to help her up, but she's off the floor before I am. Limber girl! I move the ceiling rope from her neck to her wrists and pull up. The line of her body is nearly horizontal, maybe her head is just a bit higher than her butt. I take more rope and bind one ankle to its' corresponding thigh. She now is mostly suspended, with just one leg left to stand on.
I entered from behind, easily merging into her tunnel of delights. At first I used her hips as handles, then decided to use the ropes at her elbows. Another five or six minutes and we are both sweating without completion being any nearer than before. I decided to take a break, I loosen the rope used to semi-suspend her and pickup the nipple clamps. Perhaps playing with her boobs will refocus my energies. With her breasts hanging away from her chest, it is easy to tease the nipples into erection and attach the clamps again. No protests from her when I finished.