Susan’s first bondage.


She checked her instructions carefully for at least the tenth time in the last half an hour, the printed sheet now crumpled from repeated folding and unfolding, Number 17 Naysmith drive, left out of the station, down Arkwright street for three hundred yards and turn left at the Red Lion into Merethorpe Gardens and then second left.

The high arch of the honeysuckle shrouded pergola gateway loomed above the street, setting No 17 apart from it’s matching stone Edwardian town house neighbours, she checked her instructions one last time she moved the key from her sweating palm to her shaking fingers, placed the instructions back in her pocket and with more confidence than she felt she walked the few steps up into the half timbered porch and tried her key in the door.

The cylinder lock clicked quietly, she turned the separate door knob and the black and white panelled door swung open revealing a tidy freshly painted hallway, the glazed floor tiles gleamed freshly cleaned, the rugs and mats looked clean as well , the hallway was just as the photographs he had emailed, she felt she knew the place and she was relieved to smell just the scent of air freshener, no cigarettes, no dogs, and no burned food.

She knew where to find the bathroom and the guest bedroom beyond, up the stairs and to the left, it was just as in the photographs, a red stair carpet securely clipped to the centre of the dark oak stairs, the twin stair rails an unusual feature, but she was sure they had their uses, and there on the stairs she saw a note, she picked it up.

“If you need to you can leave any extras in the pedal bin beside the refrigerator at the back of the kitchen.” it stated.

He knew, but how could he, she wondered, she had at least obeyed most of his instructions, wear just a simple dress and high heels, leave everything else but the key, the directions and train ticket at home, but while she had no qualms about leaving off her bra, the thought of not wearing any knickers was too much, certainly on the train it was out of the question and she intended to leave them at the station lavatory, except she forgot the twenty pence, then she was to use the Ladies at the Red Lion, but they were shut and so there was no real opportunity to take them off she rationalised, and then she remembered guiltily that she had sewn two twenty pound notes into the hem of her dress just in case.

But how had he guessed? was she really one of a string of slaves or submissives, she wondered? but how had he known she would disobey so soon?

She slid the thong down her long bronzed legs, it caught on her heel and she had to grab at the table for balance and as instructed she threw them in the bin without a second thought, barely lifting the lid an inch, they landed with a splash, and as she opened the lid a second time, wider now she saw it was part filled with water.

The pine kitchen table had a pot pouri as a centrepiece, the polished pine doors of the kitchen units sparkled, the work tops uncluttered, everything spotlessly clean, even the polished black and white diamond pattern floor tiles gleamed, one coffee cup, one plate, one bowl and one single glass graced the rack on the draining board beside the sink, otherwise nothing was out of place.

She returned to the hallway and climbed the stairs, her high heels felt awkward on the deep pile of the stair carpet and she was grateful for the double stair rails and relieved to reach the top and turn left through the bathroom door, she hesitated briefly. They had discussed what she was to do next many times, to shower, and shave and make her was naked except fot the high heels to the guest bedroom, and then after ten months of emails they were to meet, the moment when fantasy to met reality, all those erotic thoughts through the exchange of emails and all the promises they had made, would she be able to keep them?

There was no one there, just a note, Instructions, she picked it up, unfolded the A4 sheet read down, the list, shower, shave, dry yourself thoroughly, wear only the heels and move to the guest bedroom next door.

She crept to the bedroom, cautiously opened the door and looked in, it was a neat little box room, crisply painted in white, everything crisp and clean even the metal bed frame painted white contrasting with the natural pine finish of the single wardrobe and dressing table, the dark brown carpet appeared almost brand new, the light fitting.

A box lay on the bed, on the bare mattress, a box with an A4 sheet on it, a cardboard box, bigger than a shoe-box, she picked up the instructions, “The Instructions are in the box, shower first.” it said.

She lifted the box, tore off the tape and opened the lid, steel or was it chromium gleamed, and black lace and instructions, she flicked the lid shut. Suddenly it was real, real handcuffs, and there was something in black lace, lying in the bottom of the box, she wondered what it was so she opened the lid again, slowly this time.

Four sets of Handcuffs, all ratchet type, keyless, a ball gag, a blindfold, a dog collar and a wide black choker with what looked like a large brooch attached to the centre, it seemed bizarre, how could she wear both a choker and a dog collar together? And the underwear, stockings suspenders, how could she choose, and then she realised, there were full instructions.

She sat on the bed thinking, turning the events over in her mind, Ten months of emails casual to begin with, starting with his reply to her attempt at writing erotic fiction, then more frequent, his dominant persona complementing her submissive side until the suggestion that they meet.

They only lived thirty miles apart, for nine months neither thought to ask about practicalities and yet a short Taxi ride, Half an hour on the train, and then a short walk had brought her to his home.

They had exchanged photographs, neither wished to risk a web cam, and neither knew if the other had sent a genuine photograph, she had sent a recent picture from the previous summer and he seemed pleased but was that man in the picture actually him? He certainly looked hansom in the photograph but was it up to date? he could be very old or worse.

Yet her fantasies were all about being helpless in the power of a stranger, she tried a handcuff around her wrist, tightened and then released the rachet, tried the dog collar, and then the wide black velvet choker, and as she did she liked the way the choker complemented her neck, the soft colouring of the brooch fixed to the choker setting off her shoulder length blonde hair, but, she rationalised, this was not supposed to be about what she wanted, but this was supposed to be about what he wanted.

The instructions were explicit, “Dress to please me, apply the gag, apply the blindfold and attach the handcuffs according to the attached plan.”

The question of what to wear weighed heavily on her as she went to the bathroom,”Shower.” she had been told, but in the shower cubicle, on the control wheel, was another instruction.
“Rinse your dress and put it in the washing machine so it’s clean for tomorrow, The cycle runs overnight.”

She stood and stared, it was clear cut and binary, yet she chose to merely set her dress and shoes to one side and to start the shower running, she took the shower head and a piece of soap and started to wash herself, the grime of the train ride washed easily from her feet, and as it was barely two hours since she showered at home so she wasted little time on her tight flat stomach or her pert C cup breasts and then she was finished.

She shivered, was it cold or was it fear, she did not know, she could still leave, her knickers were soaking in the pedal bin, but her dress was dry, she decided to keep her options open, she dried herself in a huge white towel she found in the bathroom and she made her way slowly to the bedroom, she sat on the bed reading the instructions he had left her, she thought very hard of what he would want but the choker with that beautiful brooch looked so perfect that she felt it must please him.

Stockings, suspenders, what would he prefer?, she wondered, but instead of making a decision she went to collect her high heel shoes from the bathroom and only then on her return did she begin to dress.

“Close the bedroom door before applying the blindfold and affixing the handcuffs.” the Instructions ordered, she remembered and walked across and closed the door, it clicked gently as it shut, and she returned to the bed, that was when she remembered the towel which she should have left in the Bathroom she got as far as putting her hand on the door knob but as she pulled it came away in her hand, she stared at the square shaft left sticking out of the door, she knew with care she could refit it and pull the door open, or push the spindle through so trapping herself but she chose to do neither.