One drink, what harm could it do, I told myself about four hours ago. Panic. Sharp and sickly. Tied to a chair rarely ends well, so I imagine anyway, as I sit, held fast ankles bound, hands tied behind me. In her house. And where the hell is she anyway? Is this some form of payback for god knows what? Will her new boyfriend find me here? please not that.
There’s movement from upstairs, and instead of being happy to hear I’m not alone it just panics me more, what the hell is going on exactly. I want to call out, but even thinking about doing so feels like such a cliche, I don’t bother. Damn my English blood. Focus on the breath, calm calm, and now I see my trainers have been taken off, great.
And then, there she is, and for one moment there’s relief, or more like the absence of panic.
Even after everything, I still can’t help but find her attractive and as the panic subsides it’s replaced by something else. She sits down on the sofa across from me, a smile playing across her lips, small but noticeable. Which cannot be said about the growing bulge in my jeans. As confused as I am by the whole ‘situation’ there’s a part of me that’s wanted this for a long time, to be dominated, nothing too strong so this is perfect.
’So, what the fuck is going on here exactly? I ask, because it seems apt and I definitely don’t want another drink.
‘Oh, I just thought it might be fun, we never got around to it did we, the while domme thing?
“Well no, but this is a bit extreme don’t you think?
She doesn’t answer, just shrugs her shoulders and smiles that smile again. We sit like this for a few minutes, my heart racing, the panic is back and my hard on a distant memory. I’m sure she didn’t notice but can’t be certain.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/yzfkzo/bound_to_happen