He brought her flowers, knowing how inappropriate it was. Their age gap was too great. They were friends, good friends and just a little more than friends, but that was all.
She accepted the flowers gratefully, knowing his feelings for her were far more than simply platonic, but not caring.
They talked, about anything and everything, not for long but comfortably over a coffee after work several times a week. Then he went home.
“Did you see that program on television?” she asked, “The one about the really big women?”
“No, I missed it,” he replied.
“I can’t see,” she said, “How any man could like women that size? One of them said she gets paid for sitting on men!”
“Well,” he hesitated, “A lot of men like big women, although there’s big and there’s enormous and repulsive! And a lot of men like women on top of them, in charge. That sort of thing.” He was suddenly aware that he was blushing and he turned his head away from her.
She was thoughtful. “My bum’s quite big,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice, standing up and turning round to face away from him. She patted her buttocks.
He looked, trying to appear objective but with a sudden image in his mind of those buttocks descending on him to cover his face.
“You’re just a nice shape,” he assured her, “Not too big at all. Just right.” Then aware that his comments might be out of place, he added, “Lots of men of your own age find you incredibly attractive, I’m sure.”
“I don’t think I could be a dominatrix,” she said, a little sadly.
He was at a loss for words, and she saw his confusion.
“I used to do the Anne Summers parties,” she explained, “Selling lots of stuff. I wasn’t very good at it.”
“Excellent,” he said at once, “I mean…. I’m sure it was very interesting.”
He was blushing again, and she saw it.
“Time I was going,” he said. “It’s getting late and I need to be home.”
“OK,” she said. He stood up and, as usual, she kissed him on the cheek and they hugged for a moment. He kept his hips back, away from her, well aware that the direction the conversation had taken had excited him and not wanting her to feel it and perhaps be shocked at his physical reaction.
She had noticed. She said nothing.
“Maybe see you tomorrow?” she said.
“Sure,” he agreed, “If you don’t finish work too late.”
He got a text message from her the next day at work. ‘I’ll be finishing work early if you’re not too busy and want to come round for a coffee. Make it five-thirty and we can have a good chat.’
He was there at exactly five-thirty. She was rummaging through a small stack of boxes piled in the corner of the living room.
“Hi,” she said. “I’ve been sorting through some of the old Anne Summers stuff I kept when I stopped doing it. There’s some other junk here too, from another load I tried to sell. I thought you might be interested.”
“Shouldn’t you have given it back?”
She shrugged. “I think I ended up paying for it out of my commission,” she said. “Anyway, they never asked for it, so I just kept it.”
“Some of it’s a bit odd,” she went on, “I can’t remember what all of it’s for.”
She held up a small whip. “I wonder whether this would hurt?” she said. “It’s a bit small.”
“Try it,” he laughed.
“Bend over then,” she laughed back, but he did turn round and bend forward a little, jokingly.
She raised the whip and brought it down across his buttocks.
“Ouch!”
“So it does hurt,” she smiled at him. “I wonder how effective it would be on bare skin. Maybe we’ll try that later.”
He looked at her to see if she was joking, but her expression did not reveal what she was thinking. She put down the whip and picked up a handful of small gadgets.
“What on earth are these?”
He looked closely at them. “I haven’t seen anything like them before,” he confessed, “But I think they’re meant to be attached to electrical things and to appropriate parts of the anatomy.”
“Ooh,” she exclaimed, “Like a TENS unit. I’ve got one of those for my bad shoulder, but all it’s got with it are sticky pads. I always thought it could be rather fun being in control of one attached to someone else – it feels rather nice when it’s on really low, but as soon as you turn up the power or the pulsing the results could be rather interesting.”
Her eyes sparkled.
“You’ve got a wicked sense of fun,” he said.
“I know,” she admitted, “So let’s work out what parts of the body these things are meant to be attached to.”
She held up the first. “What do you reckon?”
“I couldn’t possibly say. Too rude.”
She picked up the whip and waved it playfully in his direction. “Don’t be bad. Play the game or I’ll whip you!”
“OK, OK. Hmm. I think those are intended to be attached to nipples.”
“And this one?”
“There’s only one thing I can think of would fit neatly in that, and it’s definitely male-only.”
“Oh yes,” she said, putting one finger through the rings and moving it around. “Much too big for my little fingers.”
“And this?” she went on. It was a thin metal probe, about three inches long, and with the other electrode attached to two chunky metal clips.
“Looks positively painful,” he said. “I suppose the probe is to go down the end of a man’s thing, and then you attach the clips somewhere. Not nice at all!”
“Enough of those,” she said, dropping them all back into the box. “I know what this next one is for.” She produced a large rabbit-type vibrator.
“Do you really?” he asked. “I can’t imagine how you know that.”
She flushed. “They’re no good,” she said. The batteries don’t last long enough.”
In the next box was a pair of handcuffs which did not need much working out to establish their possible uses. Then there was a blindfold, a ballgag, and after that four strong nylon cuffs with velcro fastenings and a length of nylon cord on each.
“Wrists or ankles,” he said, “And then I guess you tie the cord round something – the corners of the bed or whatever.”
“You’d just undo the velcro,” she said.
“I don’t think you could once they were attached to both wrists and both ankles, you couldn’t get your hands round to pull the right bits.”
“I bet you could if you really wanted to,” she said. “Come on, let’s try it.” She fastened the cuff round one of his wrists and then stood up, holding the long cord. She pulled at it.
“Come on then. Or are you too scared?”
She tugged the cord again. He stood up and allowed himself to be pulled along behind her into her bedroom and towards the top of her bed. She bent down and tied the end of the cord to the top corner of the bed.
“Right,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes, “You – on the bed on your back, and I’ll put the other cuffs on you so you can see if you can get out of them.”
She pushed him gently in the direction she suggested, and went round the bed to attach and tie on the other cuff. She came back round and tightened the first cord, so that both his arms were now outstretched above his head.
“Now the ankles,” she said, and proceeded to cuff and attach his ankles to each lower corner of the bed. He lay there, spread-eagled.
“I can’t get them undone,” he confirmed.
“You’re not really trying. I bet you could if you really tried.”
He tried, and found he really could not undo them. “I can’t,” he said, “There’s no way you can undo them yourself once they’re attached properly.”
“You’re not really trying,” she said, sounding annoyed.
“I am. Let me go now.”
Instead of undoing the cuffs, she disappeared into the other room.
“Hey!” he called after her. “Get back here and undo these cuffs!”
She came back into the bedroom with a number of items in her hands. “Clearly,” she said slowly and deliberately, “You need a very good reason for making the effort to get them undone. So I’m going to give you some good reasons, and we’ll see if you can manage to get free then.”
She jumped onto the bed and knelt astride his chest.
“Stop it,” he said, but without much conviction in his voice.
“Naughty boy,” she said, and giggled girlishly. She bent down towards him and fastened the ballgag round his head, pushing the ball into his open mouth and tightening it so that he could not push it out.
She reached to the small set of drawers beside the bed and took out a small rectangular box with wires wrapped round it. “TENS unit,” she said in explanation.
He shook his head vigorously.
She ignored him and appeared to be considering her next action.
“I think,” she said to herself, “I’ll give him a very good reason for wanting to get free.”
She turned round to face his feet, backing herself up his chest so that the back of her tight trousers just touched his face.
“You definitely like this,” she said. Very slowly and carefully she put one hand right in the centre of the front of his trousers, and turned her head round to look down at him.
She accepted the flowers gratefully, knowing his feelings for her were far more than simply platonic, but not caring.
They talked, about anything and everything, not for long but comfortably over a coffee after work several times a week. Then he went home.
“Did you see that program on television?” she asked, “The one about the really big women?”
“No, I missed it,” he replied.
“I can’t see,” she said, “How any man could like women that size? One of them said she gets paid for sitting on men!”
“Well,” he hesitated, “A lot of men like big women, although there’s big and there’s enormous and repulsive! And a lot of men like women on top of them, in charge. That sort of thing.” He was suddenly aware that he was blushing and he turned his head away from her.
She was thoughtful. “My bum’s quite big,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice, standing up and turning round to face away from him. She patted her buttocks.
He looked, trying to appear objective but with a sudden image in his mind of those buttocks descending on him to cover his face.
“You’re just a nice shape,” he assured her, “Not too big at all. Just right.” Then aware that his comments might be out of place, he added, “Lots of men of your own age find you incredibly attractive, I’m sure.”
“I don’t think I could be a dominatrix,” she said, a little sadly.
He was at a loss for words, and she saw his confusion.
“I used to do the Anne Summers parties,” she explained, “Selling lots of stuff. I wasn’t very good at it.”
“Excellent,” he said at once, “I mean…. I’m sure it was very interesting.”
He was blushing again, and she saw it.
“Time I was going,” he said. “It’s getting late and I need to be home.”
“OK,” she said. He stood up and, as usual, she kissed him on the cheek and they hugged for a moment. He kept his hips back, away from her, well aware that the direction the conversation had taken had excited him and not wanting her to feel it and perhaps be shocked at his physical reaction.
She had noticed. She said nothing.
“Maybe see you tomorrow?” she said.
“Sure,” he agreed, “If you don’t finish work too late.”
* * * * *
He got a text message from her the next day at work. ‘I’ll be finishing work early if you’re not too busy and want to come round for a coffee. Make it five-thirty and we can have a good chat.’
He was there at exactly five-thirty. She was rummaging through a small stack of boxes piled in the corner of the living room.
“Hi,” she said. “I’ve been sorting through some of the old Anne Summers stuff I kept when I stopped doing it. There’s some other junk here too, from another load I tried to sell. I thought you might be interested.”
“Shouldn’t you have given it back?”
She shrugged. “I think I ended up paying for it out of my commission,” she said. “Anyway, they never asked for it, so I just kept it.”
“Some of it’s a bit odd,” she went on, “I can’t remember what all of it’s for.”
She held up a small whip. “I wonder whether this would hurt?” she said. “It’s a bit small.”
“Try it,” he laughed.
“Bend over then,” she laughed back, but he did turn round and bend forward a little, jokingly.
She raised the whip and brought it down across his buttocks.
“Ouch!”
“So it does hurt,” she smiled at him. “I wonder how effective it would be on bare skin. Maybe we’ll try that later.”
He looked at her to see if she was joking, but her expression did not reveal what she was thinking. She put down the whip and picked up a handful of small gadgets.
“What on earth are these?”
He looked closely at them. “I haven’t seen anything like them before,” he confessed, “But I think they’re meant to be attached to electrical things and to appropriate parts of the anatomy.”
“Ooh,” she exclaimed, “Like a TENS unit. I’ve got one of those for my bad shoulder, but all it’s got with it are sticky pads. I always thought it could be rather fun being in control of one attached to someone else – it feels rather nice when it’s on really low, but as soon as you turn up the power or the pulsing the results could be rather interesting.”
Her eyes sparkled.
“You’ve got a wicked sense of fun,” he said.
“I know,” she admitted, “So let’s work out what parts of the body these things are meant to be attached to.”
She held up the first. “What do you reckon?”
“I couldn’t possibly say. Too rude.”
She picked up the whip and waved it playfully in his direction. “Don’t be bad. Play the game or I’ll whip you!”
“OK, OK. Hmm. I think those are intended to be attached to nipples.”
“And this one?”
“There’s only one thing I can think of would fit neatly in that, and it’s definitely male-only.”
“Oh yes,” she said, putting one finger through the rings and moving it around. “Much too big for my little fingers.”
“And this?” she went on. It was a thin metal probe, about three inches long, and with the other electrode attached to two chunky metal clips.
“Looks positively painful,” he said. “I suppose the probe is to go down the end of a man’s thing, and then you attach the clips somewhere. Not nice at all!”
“Enough of those,” she said, dropping them all back into the box. “I know what this next one is for.” She produced a large rabbit-type vibrator.
“Do you really?” he asked. “I can’t imagine how you know that.”
She flushed. “They’re no good,” she said. The batteries don’t last long enough.”
In the next box was a pair of handcuffs which did not need much working out to establish their possible uses. Then there was a blindfold, a ballgag, and after that four strong nylon cuffs with velcro fastenings and a length of nylon cord on each.
“Wrists or ankles,” he said, “And then I guess you tie the cord round something – the corners of the bed or whatever.”
“You’d just undo the velcro,” she said.
“I don’t think you could once they were attached to both wrists and both ankles, you couldn’t get your hands round to pull the right bits.”
“I bet you could if you really wanted to,” she said. “Come on, let’s try it.” She fastened the cuff round one of his wrists and then stood up, holding the long cord. She pulled at it.
“Come on then. Or are you too scared?”
She tugged the cord again. He stood up and allowed himself to be pulled along behind her into her bedroom and towards the top of her bed. She bent down and tied the end of the cord to the top corner of the bed.
“Right,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes, “You – on the bed on your back, and I’ll put the other cuffs on you so you can see if you can get out of them.”
She pushed him gently in the direction she suggested, and went round the bed to attach and tie on the other cuff. She came back round and tightened the first cord, so that both his arms were now outstretched above his head.
“Now the ankles,” she said, and proceeded to cuff and attach his ankles to each lower corner of the bed. He lay there, spread-eagled.
“I can’t get them undone,” he confirmed.
“You’re not really trying. I bet you could if you really tried.”
He tried, and found he really could not undo them. “I can’t,” he said, “There’s no way you can undo them yourself once they’re attached properly.”
“You’re not really trying,” she said, sounding annoyed.
“I am. Let me go now.”
Instead of undoing the cuffs, she disappeared into the other room.
“Hey!” he called after her. “Get back here and undo these cuffs!”
She came back into the bedroom with a number of items in her hands. “Clearly,” she said slowly and deliberately, “You need a very good reason for making the effort to get them undone. So I’m going to give you some good reasons, and we’ll see if you can manage to get free then.”
She jumped onto the bed and knelt astride his chest.
“Stop it,” he said, but without much conviction in his voice.
“Naughty boy,” she said, and giggled girlishly. She bent down towards him and fastened the ballgag round his head, pushing the ball into his open mouth and tightening it so that he could not push it out.
She reached to the small set of drawers beside the bed and took out a small rectangular box with wires wrapped round it. “TENS unit,” she said in explanation.
He shook his head vigorously.
She ignored him and appeared to be considering her next action.
“I think,” she said to herself, “I’ll give him a very good reason for wanting to get free.”
She turned round to face his feet, backing herself up his chest so that the back of her tight trousers just touched his face.
“You definitely like this,” she said. Very slowly and carefully she put one hand right in the centre of the front of his trousers, and turned her head round to look down at him.
