Cultivating Trust

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Introduction to Play


Thinking about her all day gave me a welcome reprieve. Something stirred in the back of my head gnawing at me about the animalistic way we had sex the night of the dirt bike race. The way her body responded. The hunger in her gaze. She enjoyed it and not because of the happy ending either.

Chelsea had her quirks, I got it. But as far as quirks go, they were benign. She couldn’t say some words. But as we had been dating, I heard a more diverse set of terms I wouldn’t have imagined coming out of her. With time, she slowly climbed out of her shell.

It worked both ways. When she took the time to get used to ideas I put in her head, she eventually ended up accepting them. Although the other side of that scenario was she often thought too much and it distracted her. Kitchen counter sex produced anxiety about fluids being all over and then a reaction to clean instead of just enjoying the task at hand. I wished she had a switch. Turned on her thinking, so she could get used to an idea and then turned it off, so she could just relax and let me work my magic.

By magic, I meant my power over her. She gave herself to me the other night, and it was the most amazing feeling. She trusted me and let me work her body the best way I knew how. I couldn’t deny how much I loved the control. Commanding her body and staving off my own satisfaction until she climaxed made for one powerful orgasm. I needed to do it again. How do I go about taking control without freaking her out?

How did you control someone like Chelsea short of locking her in a cage? Of course, I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to be brutal but just stop her from touching me until I touched her first.

It gave me an idea. I stopped and thought about bondage.

The ability to stop her from doing everything else except concentrating on what I did to her. Even the first time we had sex, I held her hands down, and she was able to have her first orgasm. Huh?

We broached the subject of bondage before, and she laughed it off. Would she try it? The thought of her handcuffed to my bed now had me fidget a little more. I would love to see her naked and tied up. Now, how should I talk to her about this?

I decided to get my own ‘supplies’ and test her out. The worst she could do was say no, provided she didn’t see me as some type of weirdo.

An adult store on the outer banks of the city, secluded in the country, had been one I was familiar with before. Some of those places could get rather seedy but this one catered to more high-end clientele. The women there were rather helpful and easy on the eyes too. I stopped in to see what I could use with Chelsea.

Once inside the door, Layla greeted me, “Brandt. So nice to see you. It has been awhile. Did you already go through the large box of condoms you bought last time?” She liked to flirt, and I couldn’t help but smile. They worked on commission, and I always tipped a little extra. The last time was for a favor in the dressing room. They have a policy where they modeled any clothing purchased by the customer. She told me about one guy who came in regularly to buy clothes and threw them away as soon as he got out the door.

“I am not here for condoms but wondered if I could look for some other accessories? Do you have a minute?”

She gave me a sexy smirk, “I could try on anything you need as long as you help me in the dressing room again.”

Unable to suppress my own smirk, I continued, “I won’t be needing help of that kind today. I am off the market.” The expression on her face turned sad, but I sensed it was more for the tip and not feeling rebuked. She made a lot of tips.

“Too bad. We got a shipment of motion lotion that just came in you should experience.”

She batted her eyes at me, but I shrugged, “I might take you up on the lotion but will do my own home studies.” She joined me from around the counter, weaving her arm through mine as I let her in on what I wanted, “My interests lie in objects pertaining to bondage.”

Her eyes lit up. “Just your luck. I have a special interest in it myself. Follow me.” We got to the opposite side of the store in the back, and she handed me a box with a picture of handcuffs on it when we got to the shelving. “Will she be handcuffed with her arms together or handcuff to an object?”

Good question. I knew Layla would be of use. “My guess would be to an object.” I wanted her tethered to my bed, at least according to the fantasy in my head, and with the new bed she bought us having spindles on the headboard, I could picture it precisely.

She switched out the boxes for a different style of handcuffs. This one had a longer chain. “Did you want her to watch or will she be blindfolded?” Again, something else to consider. If she watched, she might become anxious. If she didn’t watch, she might become anxious. With Chelsea, you never knew.

“What do you prefer?” Layla didn’t sugarcoat her preferences in all things S&M, telling me in detail how each item excited her as she walked past them on the shelf. Her preferences didn’t exactly sound like Chelsea’s though. I needed to work Chelsea into this and settled on the blindfold.

“I would think a blindfold for her. We can always take it off if we need too.” I looked around at more items but stopped myself. Just the basics for now. With any hope, I would be back, maybe even with Chelsea, and buy out the store. “This should be enough.”

“Let me add one more thing. If she likes the blindfold, she will love this.” Layla reached on the shelf to the left and pulled out a long black plume. “Move this up and down her body, and she will scream your name.” I smiled at the thought. Chelsea didn’t say much during sex, but I would love to change that.

I looked at the feather and then at Layla, “She likes blue.” She gave me a wink and switched the black feather for a blue one.

While leading me to the counter, we passed through the lingerie section. The mannequin closest to me wore a baby blue nightie with the caption: tear away. Chelsea would look killer in it although, Chelsea looked killer naked too. But this may help to get her more comfortable. I gave Layla Chelsea’s approximate size, and she helped me to pick one out after reminding me of their policy on showcasing clothing for the customer.

Layla wasn’t too disappointed by my refusal of a showing when another customer walked in. He had on an expensive suit and gave her a smirk all but guaranteeing a hefty tip. She even threw in some flavored lotion she talked about earlier and I made my way back home with plenty of time to set up for our evening of exploration.

I told Chelsea I would get something to eat for myself after the studio. She felt guilty for not being home as much to cook for me, and I missed it, but in all reality, I never wanted a cook and a maid. She took it on by herself. The last thing I wanted was her resenting waiting on me hand and foot as I never wanted to make her feel like hired help.

Pulling into the garage, I noticed her car still absent and it gave me time to think about how to broach the subject with her. What should I show her first? If I came at her with all this stuff, it might cause her to wig out, and I might spend the night on the couch.

A gift then. The nightie was packaged in a box with a bow even. Chelsea liked gifts although she always told me she didn’t, thinking I spent too much on her already. With it decided, I left the box on the counter and took the rest up to the bedroom. With the handcuffs, feather, and blindfold displayed on the nightstand, all I needed to do now was wait. Feeling wound up with nervous energy, I hit the gym for a little while, anxiously awaiting her arrival home.


By the time my body lotion shoot came up, my wall rash had healed which was good since I also had a job for a retail clothing magazine starting in the next day or two. Arnie, the agent Hailey hooked me up with as a favor to her, really was helping me to get a portfolio together and I felt lucky to have him. Hailey stuck out her neck to get me him, and he had been great. She helped me to find a job that would work around Brandt’s schedule and, of course, getting me an agent who would rather get me jobs than get on top of me. I heard stories and would never put up with a jerk philanderer.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing though. The photographer turned out to be a womanizing dirtball. We had it out in front of the other models and I didn’t care if I sounded unreasonable. I understood I was to have my body wrapped in a large ribbon of satin -some reference to the feel of the lotion- but he wanted me nude to do it. When I refused, he pitched a fit but I let Arnie deal with it, and he did rather well, explaining my ‘religion’ prevented it, and I needed a nude bikini instead. The lie worked as the photographer didn’t want a harassment suit. The nude bikini was standard in the industry and I felt the photographer toted his artistic style as a way to get a look at me naked and unnecessary. I had been ready to walk, but this worked out better in my favor, preventing me from being labeled a diva and difficult to work with later on. If things kept going the way they did, I could afford to buy Brandt a better Christmas present.

In the shoot, they paired me with two nice guys. At least I was in a satin ribbon. Those poor guys were dressed up to be cherubs in white diapers and wings.

Ian had a wife and newborn son at home, and Franco was unabashedly gay. Both were professional, and I thought the shoot went well after the initial confrontation. The company said they would mail me a copy of the proofs to the house when they were done with the editing so I could add it to my portfolio. I couldn’t wait to show Brandt some of my work.

Brandt’s hesitation of my current employment stemmed from Cami being in the business and her needing the fame and fortune no matter what. Well, I was stronger than most and I knew Brandt would come around. He would see this as a great opportunity and could be the best of both worlds.

Brandt planned to go out after the studio and said he would get something to eat on his own. I enjoyed cooking for him, liked making sure he was taken care of, but he could get his own supper on occasion too. The idea did little to curb the lingering guilt I felt.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, the sun dipped low in the sky. One of my favorite times of the day as we could sit on the deck and watch the sunset. Tonight, I hoped to watch it from our bedroom after making love as I had missed Brandt all day.

I assumed we would slow down to fewer times per week now we weren’t in Wisconsin and felt our time together limited, but I was wrong. Lying next to him in bed after making love was another favorite of mine, and I could do it every night, regardless if I had an orgasm or not. I wished I could convince Brandt of it though. Why did he feel like he let me down if he didn’t make me climax? It must have to do with the male/female differences. Men think women love them when they give them sex and women think men love them when they cuddle or give them meaningful conversation. We must be wired differently.

Walking into the house through the garage, he surprised me by waiting for me in the kitchen. He was dressed in a t-shirt and his white lounge pants. His hair looked wet like he just got out of the shower and his pants were clinging to his legs. Oh, how I loved him in those pants. They showed off his firm ass in the most delightful way. “Hey you. How did today go?”

He didn’t answer right away but handed me a package. “What is this?” My birthday wasn’t until February.

“Can’t I buy something for you?”

“Brandt, you always buy things for me.” I plunged into the box. I loved presents and tried not to look too eager. If he saw how much I liked them, he would spend all his money on me not realizing it was the little things he did that made me happy.

I looked inside and saw a baby blue lace nightie and smirked at him, “I thought you liked me in nothing at all?”

He had a savage look on his face, “I also like to tear things off you. This nightie is a tear away one that won’t rip.”

“Thank God. I was spending a fortune on underwear.” I giggled. “So... maybe I should try it on now?” He still had a look of lust on his face, but he told me to wait.

“No. I have more surprises in the bedroom.” The bedroom? Maybe a pair of stilettos to go with it? He said he loved the look of my legs in them.

His deep voice mesmerized me as he took my hand and led me upstairs. “Chelsea, I can’t help thinking about the night of the dirt bike race.”

“Me too. Especially when I sit back against the rash. Maybe we should think about padding the wall if we ever do it again.” I made light of it since the wall rash didn’t cause too much of an issue and it had already healed. And the way my body responded, well, I would take the skin irritation any day.

“Oh, I plan on doing it again. And more.” I couldn’t help but think my surprise was tied to this conversation in some way. Did he actually pad the wall?

“Chelsea the sex was good and the way your body behaved showed me more possibilities.” My anxiety started to rise. Was he going to throw some new positions to try at me? I felt like I hadn’t mastered the first fifty we had done so far.

We walked into the dimly lit bedroom, illuminated mostly by the late day sun shining in. On his side of the nightstand was three objects: a blindfold that reminded me of the kind you get from an airline to sleep on a flight, a large blue feather, and handcuffs.

It took a while to register. He wanted to handcuff me? It didn’t scare me so much as cause me apprehension. My mind went a hundred miles an hour, and the questions were forming so fast I didn’t know which one to say first.

Brandt started, “I want to use these on you.”

Out of all the questions running around in my head, I could only mutter one, “Why?”

I didn’t look at him but instead chose to study the objects in front of me. His gaze covered me, just as intense. “That night you let me... control you, it was pleasurable for you and for me. I want to do it again.”

Tracing the handcuffs with my finger, I felt the cold steel and shivered slightly. Not from the temperature of the room but due to the possibilities. He was right. The orgasm after the day at the dirt bike track rather amazed me but surely it could happen again without restraints.

“I didn’t need to be in handcuffs for you to do that to me.” Both cuffs were on a long chain. Small keys were laying by it. Although I should be concerned, I felt my body tingle with eagerness I didn’t know I possessed.

He talked in a slow, deep voice, almost as though he was luring me in. “I think there is something to restraining your arms that lent to the pleasure. I want to, ah, investigate it more with you.”

My eyes traveled from the feather to the blindfold with curiosity. The handcuffs didn’t even dissuade me. I tried to envision how I would feel cuffed to the bed with Brandt working my body. Me not being able to move and let him have his way of possessing me. My hand went to the feather, feeling the soft tickle on my fingertips, and making me wonder what it would feel like against my more sensitive areas. A jolt of excitement passed through me.

And then reality hit. What if I didn’t like it? Well, then I asked to get taken out. I trusted Brandt and didn’t feel he would push me on this.

Not talking anymore, he stood silent gauging my reaction. He let me ask my questions and gave me the time I needed to wrap my head around it. Should I go for it? Blindfolded and restrained? I could only imagine how Brandt would deliver me to ecstasy and I noticed my breathing pick up as well as my nipples harden with the thought.

Embarrassed, my cheeks reddened. Could I be thinking about this? I never considered myself to be one of ‘those people.’ The devious ones who were into sadomasochism. The ones I envisioned in my head. Leather and whips in seedy nightclubs where you need to get into them by back alleys. This was just the start, right?

The feel of the cuffs transfixed me with thoughts of cold steel against my heated skin while Brandt’s hands traveled down my naked body. Another shiver engulfed me. I swallowed hard knowing Brandt must have done this before with other women. They let him do this to them. I bet they hadn’t hesitated as I did. He must have liked this before and wanted to do it to me. We had decided to not talk about his past sexual exploits since starting over in Wisconsin. I rarely asked about his past sex life but couldn’t help myself. “You liked to do this with other women?”

“I have never done this with any other woman.” My eyes locked onto his as I searched his face. He was telling the truth. I didn’t know why he would lie about this. He had always been open about his sexual partners in the past.

“Chelsea, I am not in a position to do this with other women. I have money and fame and if I do something that would be construed as hurting another person I could easily be sued or worse.” This seemed right. He had people lying about him to get their piece of the pie. It would take one complaint, someone would sue him, or much worse, they would bring it to the public eye.

I looked back down at the objects in a different light. Brandt wanted to try this with me. Something he could share with only me.

“Chelsea, we don’t have to do this--” Making up my mind, I interrupted his talking.

“I want to.” Our eyes met as he gauged my approval, finding out my seriousness.

“Take off your clothes.” He pushed forward, trusting I made up my mind.

Starting with my shirt, I removed my top half completely. He watched me with eager eyes, and it aroused my body, making me squirm beside him. He came up behind me and helped me to remove what clothes I had left and I felt his hot breath on my skin. Wet and wanting, I was turned on already, and we had yet to do more than get naked. Hands damp, my mind flitted from one thought to another. What would this feel like? Would I enjoy it?

When I stood before him unclothed, he commanded more, “Get on the bed.” I moved towards the headboard knowing he would use the handcuffs on the spindles of the bed frame. I laid on the bed, eyes glued to him. He stopped for a moment and just looked down at me, at my body, at my total trust in him. When his gaze returned to my face, we exchanged smiles, making me more at ease. He looked at me with a calm desire I had never seen before, making my body relax further.

Brandt grabbed onto the cuffs and brought them over to the bed. He finished wrapping them around the spindle when I couldn’t help but wonder aloud, “Won’t those scrape at the wood?” He looked down at me like I was mad but relented and searched the room for a solution. Quickly, he removed his t-shirt and wrapped it around the chain.

“Satisfied?” I couldn’t help but giggle a little.

“Bring your hands up.” I obeyed. My hands were over my head, and I watched as he latched them in the cuffs one at a time. I took in a deep breath, and my eyes widened as I look at him. We were going to do this. My nervousness was mixed with excitement.

Watching as he grabbed the blindfold, he looked at me reassuringly and waited until I nodded to him to put it on. That single effort assured me he looked out for me and had nothing to fear. He wouldn’t hurt me. This I knew. Nodding again, he placed the blindfold over my eyes. It blocked out all the dim light in the room and made me feel a little helpless. I could hear him rustling and move about, but I stayed still, waiting.

When the feather touched my body, I jumped and sent out a little yelp of alarm. I thought I would be aware of it, but it still gave me a jolt. Laying immobile, I felt Brandt drag the feather over my chest area. The sensation was nothing I had ever felt before. I loved the feel of the light tickle as it brushed my skin. The soft texture spanned quite the distance as he glided it over me, working me into heightened awareness.

The softness of the feather was replaced by the feel of his fingers. They had a rougher quality with years of strumming the guitar, much less checking his blood sugar with finger pokes. The soft touch of the feather and the roughness of his fingers excited me in a different way, and I couldn’t tell which one I liked better. Was it because of the blindfold or because I couldn’t tell what he was doing next and the expectation made the anticipation drive me crazy? It didn’t matter. The sensation coursed throughout my body making me arch my back and writhed around, wanting to explode already, and we had barely started.

When Brandt moved the feather lower to my legs, the sensation overwhelmed me as I whimpered softly and bucked against the cuffs, amazed at my reaction. For the most part, I had kept my hands still. Unable to move them, I, therefore, tolerated the teasing caresses at his command. The soft tickle of the feather against my open thighs sent an electric impulse right to my sex. I sucked in my breath and waited for the next tormented stroke. And waited.

The wait drove me crazy as I could not gauge when the next assault would come. On the verge of screaming, I finally felt it again. Slow and teasing along my inner thigh, working up to my wet folds. Arching my back at the sensation, a cry escaped my lips before I could stop it. Embarrassed at my reaction, I clamped down on my lips. Crying out during sex would make me sound like an idiot, so I never indulged. I needed to control myself before more babbling escaped my lips.

Then I felt his mouth on my nipple and shrieked, arching my back and jarring the cuffs against the bed. My God, it felt amazing. The sensation overwhelmed my nerves to the point of being besieged. He was unrelenting as I settled down again enjoying him as he licked my nipple while tracking the feather over my sensitive skin. I couldn’t control my body as I rocked back and forth, pushing my breast upward where I felt him, wanting more. My breathing took on a rhythm of its own. Quick, shallow breaths and then a feeble attempt to slow it down. Every rough stroke of his tongue on my nipple sent my body up, and another scream of pleasure escaped my lips as he continued to torture my inner thighs with the tickle of the feather. My mind never envisioned this, and my body grew tense, already searching for what would put me over the edge. Writhing side to side, I was left needing him, needing more. I whimpered when the feather left me and waited impatiently, squeezing my thighs together to try to dampen the need forming between them.

And then he delivered.

Brandt returned to biting and nibbling at my breast while his hand brushed past my knee ever so slowly. He teased me, and it was both sufferable and glorious. As much as the teasing frustrated me, I knew the payoff would be huge, and the anticipation of this whole session was more than I predicted. He leisurely felt his way up my inner thigh, and I cried out once more, opening my legs for him.

“Oh God, please.” Hesitating only briefly, I felt him at my wet folds. I wanted to grab his hand and force him inside me, but when I went to move, I was once more reminded of my restraints.

“Please.” He heard my prayers, and I felt his finger plunge into me deeply, and I lifted my pelvis off the bed and ground as much as I could into him. I had never responded like this to him, and I was a little ashamed of my desire. He drove me to the brink of madness. I wanted him. I needed him more than I ever had. My mind could think of nothing but how the next smallest touch would send me into the stratosphere.

He continued to work his finger inside me, more to the top. I recognized the G-spot area and was embarrassed when my stomach shook with want. All my muscles joined in and I turned into a quivering mess. When he removed his finger from inside me, I cried out once more with the loss of such a satisfying feeling. Any willpower left me and placed me on the verge of tears. I had never wanted or needed something so much in my life. I tried to move my hands and once more met resistance. Ready to beg, I felt the bed dip down and knew he had climbed on it, on top of me, and I instinctively lifted my pelvis in his direction. I kept uttering a silent prayer. Please finish this off. My body couldn’t take anymore.

Leaning above me, I felt him position himself outside my wet lips. The firm length of his member taunted me by laying on my lower stomach, out of reach of my wanton channel. His next pause made me want to scream. The torture proved too much, and when I thought I would burst with the anticipation of pleasure, he entered me in one quick motion, going deep, filling me up, making my mind rejoice with the titillation. My muscles tensed as the pleasure hit me. My thighs and stomach shook in response, and I sucked in my breath as the orgasm hit. I couldn’t control it and let my body do what it needed to.

Trembling and breathing in short, quick gasps he held his place inside me and let my spasms work around him until my throbbing ends. I could cry I was so fulfilled and spent at the same time. With nothing left, I fell to the bed limply. I had never orgasmed that fast and that profoundly before and with so little stimulation. It had to be the most amazing, intense climax I had ever rendered. I could still feel Brandt in all the way as he pumped once and then twice, delivering his final thrust and becoming still. He weakened and covered me with his body, raking in his breathing coming in larger breaths.

As we were laying there, I tried to make sense of it all. Instead of being overjoyed at the intense gratification, I had a feeling of dread. Part of me did not want to enjoy it. If I didn’t like it, we could go back to plain vanilla sex. That was evidently not the case. It was in the top five orgasms of my life if not the top one which meant... I was one of those.


Removing the mask and then unlocking the cuffs, I watched her face in fascination. I had never seen her give herself to me so freely, and I was still a little awestruck with her unbridled enthusiasm. She had to love it. She came so hard, clamping around my cock, sending me into the abyss with her, so amazing what her body could do.

This went much better than I imagined, “Did you enjoy it?”

I watched as her expression changed from confusion to... shame? When she burst into tears, it made my stomach sink. I shifted to her side and looked over her body. Did I harm her? She would have told me to stop, right?

“Chelsea, are you okay? What is wrong? Did I hurt you?” She was crying too hard to answer. Placing my arm around her, I tried to comfort her but kept wondering what I missed. What did I do to cause her to cry this hard?

“Chelsea, answer me. Are you hurt?” Her sobbing prevented her from talking, but she managed to shake her head. Unable to take it anymore, I bellowed, “What is going on?”

She forced out, “Brandt, I am one of those women.”

Those women? What women? “What? Chelsea, what are you talking about?”

She tried to calm down, “I am one of those people.”

I expected questions from her but not a full-fledged fallout. I couldn’t help but think this was another one of her quirks, “Those people how?”

With her voice trembling, she answered, “The ones who like this sort of stuff.”

I took in a deep breath and willed myself to relax. I didn’t hurt her. I needed to be patient, but I was still overly anxious about a crying jag after incredible fucking sex. Please don’t associate this with something bad, Chelsea. Please.

“You mean the people who like sex?”

“No, Brandt. I am one of those people who like that sort of thing.”

“And what is wrong with that sort of thing?”

She looked at me incredulously, her voice still shaking, “I like being tied up. I like sado... sado...whatever it is called.” I shook my head, exasperated, telling myself to calm down. You could have taken it slower, Brandt.

“They are called normal people, Chelsea. Normal people.”

“You don’t understand. Today handcuffs, tomorrow whips and chains and secret codes to get into shady hotels.” Another long sigh. Oh, Chelsea, there is nothing wrong with you. How do I make you see?

“Chelsea, what we did is not devious or wrong. We had sex. Bondage sex. It is normal. Normal people do this. We are two consenting adults. You liked it not because you were devious but because you are normal.” I rubbed her back almost absently. I always found myself touching her when she lay near me, and now it was more of a consoling type of touch. Not only did I just love the feel of her skin, but I noticed it had a calming effect now. The crying slowed to a stop, and she quieted, thinking. Always thinking and taking it all in.

“Normal people like this?” How do I explain this to her and make her understand?

“Yes, normal people like this. What I did heightened your other senses. Think about it. What did you like about my taking you up against the wall? You liked the fact you couldn’t move. You didn’t have to think about pleasing me and gave yourself to me. Since you couldn’t touch me, it gave you a more intense feeling when I took another sense away from you. When you couldn’t see me, you had to concentrate on what I was doing to you. It made it more powerful for you. There is nothing wrong with that.” Her wheels were turning like they often did. Patience Brandt. She would come around.

“Chelsea, you over-think things all the time. I finally got you to stop, concentrating on me pleasing you. Didn’t you like it?”

She gave me a hesitant smile, “I did. I... I have never felt anything so powerful. It frightened me a little.”

It was profound, and I should remember she still had a lot to learn about her own body during sex, and I didn’t want to scare her away from her experimentation. “Chelsea, I want to do that again, but we don’t need to. At least not until you are ready.”

Contemplating, she answered, “I want to do it again too. Just not right away I need...”

Yes, I knew, “... time. Got it. Take all the time you need. I won’t even push it. Next time you want to get restrained put on the nightie I bought you and it will be my clue to get out the handcuffs, all right?” This seemed to register. She would get to tell me when next time.

“Brandt, I don’t want to do the handcuffs.” Shit. I stiffened beside her. I let it up to her and was hoping we could move forward.

“I mean, I don’t want the handcuffs because what would happen if you had a diabetic reaction? I couldn’t help you. What if we used scarves instead?” Oh, thank God. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. Relief flooded my face. If she said ‘no’ then I wouldn’t think about it again as I would never force this on her.

“I can do that. What about the other stuff?” I needed to know how far to go.

She blushed and answered quietly, “I liked the feather.”

I laughed a little, “Okay, the feather stays during our bondage sessions.”

She cringed and I pressed on, “Okay, Chelsea. What else?”

“Do we have to use that term? Bondage is kind of... harsh.”

What I expected, “What would you suggest?”

She brought her body in closer to me, “We could just call it ‘play.’”

Play? I actually liked the term. I shrugged, “That I can do.”

We snuggled down in the bed and watched the sunset through the French doors in the room, content to just hold each other. We continued to talk as we always did, discussing our day and our thoughts. I had revealed more to her than anyone else alive. She meant the world to me, and I was truthful. She could take whatever time she needed to accept this. By the time we drifted off to sleep she already had a smile on her face. That’s my girl.

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