All About Control · Part 2

All About Control · Part 2 (2/2)
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ind far less insight into the mind of a dominant man.

Pete seemed to fit the definition of that assertive personality. After weeks of emails and video chats he’d presented a good impression, which explained why she was sitting in a chair facing him. She hadn’t anticipated her visit would quickly turn toward a serious subject.

“I’m sure you have quite a bit to say. Be patient.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I do appreciate how difficult it must be to sit there and not utter one word. If it helps, you have impressed me with your cooperation.”

You say it best when you say nothing at all. She didn’t remember the entire song, but those lyrics seemed to be appropriate to the moment. Carol was acutely aware of her vulnerable state. Was that the reason she was being so obedient, or was there more to it?

She studied Pete as he sat across from her. There was a long, silent pause while he returned her scrutiny. I can put an end to this at any time, she reminded herself. Of course, that assumed Pete would fulfill his promise to free her. He might ignore her request, though she didn’t want to go there.

What else will he demand? And more importantly, can I say no? She was afraid to go too far down that path too. It’s true, there really is a certain attraction to being deprived of my freedom. I can feel it. Until he gives me his permission I might as well be gagged.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m having a great time.” Pete held out one hand, palm up. “I don’t see bondage as a one-way street,” he began. Slowly he closed his hand into a fist. “I doubt you can understand what it means to me, to have you place yourself in my hands, hands which close to tighten into an unbreakable grip on you. Look at you, bound hand and foot, so helpless.”

He held out his other hand and closed it. “You can’t even talk. That’s my power over you, not just fantasy but tangible reality. It’s a powerful drug for someone like me.”

Control freak, that was an understatement. If she were thinking clearly then he should qualify as a first-class jerk, and she should get out of there as fast as possible. Except she had a problem with acting on the impulse. She had been told to sit quietly in the chair. Only a short phrase, yet every bit as effective as the chains she wore in keeping her in line.

The Chair It was a relief when Pete released her from the handcuffs. “Well, I learned my lesson. No more emptying the wine bottle before getting in the car.” Carol started giggling like a little girl. “It’s scary, but kind of cool at the same time. Thanks, Pete. From now on I’ll have a bit of sympathy when I see those handcuffed women on the news.”

He hung the handcuffs, waist belt and leg irons back on the wall. “No need to thank me. I can assure you, holding a submissive woman captive is a reward all by itself. It should be obvious there aren’t many volunteers. You’re the exception.”

Carol was rubbing her wrists, where the cuffs had left a red ring. “I’d hate to be stuck in those things for several hours. I do have to admit, there was something, I’m not sure exactly how to describe it, a feeling that I was so powerless but not afraid. I’d like to try it again one of these days, if you don’t mind.”

Pete smiled. “I’m easily tempted. By the way, there are other forms of restraint that aren’t so uncomfortable. As long as you don’t mind being deprived of your freedom, of course. Care to take a look?”

Carol thought for a moment before deciding to proceed. She had a good first impression of Pete, as someone she could rely on. “Sure! You triggered my curiosity.”

Pete went over to a closet door, opened it, and wheeled out what Carol mistook for a crude wheelchair at first. “This is what’s known as a prisoner restraint chair. It’s used when a suspect has to be restrained but is drunk, high on drugs or generally very uncooperative. Once seated the chair can be wheeled around, usually to an isolation cell until the suspect calms down.”

Carol walked around the chair, to see how it worked. It was basically a metal frame with numerous, wide straps. It had wheels but those were well out of reach of the prisoner. Handles on the back could be used to push it around.

“I get the overall idea. Anyone sitting in that contraption isn’t going anywhere on their own.” She ran a hand across one of the chair arms.

“Still feeling adventurous? Want to try it out?”

Why not? It doesn’t look all that intimidating. It can’t be worse than the handcuffs. Carol nodded in agreement. “Okay, you have a willing volunteer one more time.”

Pete loosened the straps before standing behind the chair so he could hold it steady. “Your chariot awaits, my lady! I promise, it won’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”

Carol tried not to laugh when she sat down. It wasn’t the most comfortable though she was sure the designers likely weren’t too concerned about the quality of the seat cushion. She straightened out her dress and placed her arms on the chair rests. There was a plate on the bottom for her feet.

“I’m ready, what’s next?”

Pete went over to his wall and took down those odd mittens he’d pointed out earlier. “We’ll start with your hands. You don’t appreciate how important fingers are until you don’t have any. These are the small size; they should fit.”

Carol held out her hands. Close up the mitts were simple nylon tubes with a thick inner padding. Her hands went in easily enough, but the lining was far too stiff for her to flex her fingers. Pete closed a Velcro strap at the wrist to prevent her slipping out. Her hands were transformed into all but useless stubs.

“That should work. Put your arms back on the armrests.” When she complied, he wrapped the heavier straps across her wrists, over the mitts. When he tightened them, her hands were fixed to the chair.

“This wide one goes across your waist. I regret I must insist you remain seated, for your own safety, naturally.” Judging from the smile on his face her safety was the last thing on his mind. “And a second one higher up, so you don’t lean forward.” Carol could feel the belt resting under her bra.

Crouching down he finished off with the straps around her ankles and legs. After he stood up, she jerked on her wrists and ankles. “I see what you mean. It looks like I’m going to be here for a while. Is there a time limit for being left in one of these chairs?”

Pete shook his head. “No, no fixed limit, though there have been some cases where a session went on for far too long, twelve hours or more without anyone in attendance. Legally that’s considered abuse, so the police have to be careful about using these things.”

Twelve hours? No way I could last that long. Except…it wasn’t up to her. For the first time Carol realized she was actually worse off than simply being handcuffed. She tried shifting her weight back and forth. The chair didn’t budge. “I suppose you’re not too concerned about me making a daring escape?”

Pete noticed her struggle. “Not so much. There’s a brake on the wheels. It has a low center of gravity, so you can’t tip it over either. I’ve read that being unable to move has a calming effect, at least on some people. What do you think?”

Carol relaxed and leaned back in the chair. She closed her eyes, trying to visualize herself from Pete’s perspective. He was right; even though she was trapped there was a soothing effect, as if all her troubles were draining away.

“It’s a strange feeling. It’s like I don’t have a care in the world. There’s nothing I can do, so I don’t have to worry about making a mistake. You’re in charge; I’m your responsibility while I’m sitting here.” She attempted to swivel her head around to see Pete’s reaction. He remained out of sight, behind the chair.

“You’re still there? I can’t see you. Please, don’t leave me alone.”

He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m here. I have a few more items, if you’d like to move up a level, so to speak. How about it, want to push your limits a bit more?”

The way he spoke to her, so confident and reassuring, pushed aside any caution on Carol’s part. “Go ahead. I can call a halt if it gets to be too much?”

Pete patted her shoulder. “Of course, all you have to do is tell me to stop. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

She heard him pull open a drawer. If only he’d turn around the chair so she could watch. She was tempted to ask but held back. Maybe this is intentional. He’s the expert. I shouldn’t interfere.

She caught only a glimpse of the collar before it closed around her neck. It was made of leather, and completely covered her neck. A chin piece in front forced her to hold her head up and back. She felt him do something with whatever held it in place, behind her head.

“This is what’s called a posture collar. The purpose is to prevent you from looking around. Proper posture is important. One of my rules when occupying this chair is that you keep your head up and facing forward.”

If that was really its purpose then it was quite effective. Her head was clamped firmly in place. Any sideways glances were out of the question. When she attempted to tilt forward the collar brought her up short.

“I added a small modification to the chair. There’s an adjustable post in the back, which hooks to the collar. If you wish to remain in the chair you will have to abide by my restrictions.”

Take a Ride Carol debated whether to continue or call it quits. She’d already gone well past what she anticipated, yet she wasn’t nervous about the direction he was heading. He made it so easy for her to slip into the passive role. Prior to arriving she was afraid she’d make a fool of herself, yet his manner wiped away all her fears. She liked the way he was patient with his explanations. The manner in which he anticipated her questions ahead of time, and provided welcome answers, convinced Carol she could sit back and enjoy his show.

He walked around in front of her and crouched down to eye level. “So you know, I’m always overly cautious with a beginner. Surrendering yourself to the custody of a stranger is no small matter. From what I’ve seen tonight, you are quite remarkable in that respect. You haven’t hesitated, not for a moment, in accepting whatever I decide. That means a lot to those of us who are of the dominant persuasion.”

His words brought on a warm feeling within Carol. Sexual attraction was definitely a part of it, but there was more. She felt he was opening up to her, a rarity for men. “Right now, I feel so peaceful, even though I’m trapped, your prisoner, powerless to resist you. You have a rare talent, Pete. By rights I should be terrified, yet it’s just the opposite.”

Pete reached out and placed a hand on her knee. “That’s good to know, Carol. I’ll take that to be your consent for me to continue. The chair is a handy foundation to build on the bondage experience.”

The hand was an intimate gesture, an escalation into the overtly sexual, yet Carol chose not to object. Her inhibitions were breaking down at an increasing rate. She had no idea what he planned next.

The Lullaby “Are you comfortable, or at least not too uncomfortable? There’s something I’d like to show you, if you’re willing to be patient with me.” All this time Pete was behind her, out of sight though she could feel his presence.

Carol shifted around in the chair, as much as she was able. “I’m okay,” she replied. “Go ahead, you have a captive audience.” In a very literal sense, she thought. Being tied down left her in an exceptionally vulnerable position, one he could easily use to take advantage of her. If his hands did start to roam, she could always protest. In theory, she realized, but in fact she wasn’t sure how she’d react. If he starts, I can’t stop him. That thought only led to more confusion.

Pete released the brake on the chair and wheeled her through the doorway into the section of the basement fitted out as a den. He parked her in front of a wood-paneled section of the wall and engaged the brake. With the posture collar in place her view was sharply limited to what was in front of her. With a bit of a shock, she suddenly pictured herself as a quadriplegic, paralyzed from the neck down, unable to move, entirely dependent on the man standing behind her. It was only a momentary flash, yet it had an impact. Believing in Pete wasn’t an option any longer.

The lights dimmed but didn’t go out. “What’s going on?” Was this supposed to be romantic?

She heard a chair drop to the floor behind her chair. He was deliberately hiding from her, but why? “Whatever gruesome movie scene you’re thinking of, put it out of your mind. I promise, that’s not what’s going on.”

His deep voice, quiet yet confident, and persuasive, helped Carol relax. “There’s a bit of enchantment in this chair, that’s what I want you to see. If you sit back, open your imagination, and listen to a little story then maybe, if we’re lucky, the magic will visit us tonight.”

“The coming attractions are intriguing. Okay, I’m hooked, what’s my part?” Whatever he wanted, it would have to be simple, since she wasn’t in a position to contribute much.

“This is how it will be,” he began. He has it all planned out, she told herself. Good, I like that.

His voice was a whisper in her ear, barely audible. “Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and focus on my words. Tune out everything else. Use your imagination, your mind’s eye, to build the picture I describe. Don’t speak, don’t make a sound, for that will break the spell.”

It was so easy to follow his instructions, the way he carefully detailed every step. Let him do the work, she thought.

“Forget about the here and now. Imagine a log cabin, high up in the mountains. It’s the middle of winter, deep snow all around, but you’re warm inside. Outside it’s bitterly cold. You can hear the wind howling, the tapping of the snow swirling in the blizzard, striking against the windows. The sound alone makes you shiver.

“But you aren’t cold. You’re bundled up head to toe, snug in your huge fur coat. The flames dance in the fireplace, weaving in and out of the wooden logs resting on the grate. There’s a faint scent of pine in the air, coming from the ready supply of wood stacked to one side. The sturdy walls of the cabin will not let in the storm this evening, or any other.

“The coat is drawn tightly around your bare body, like an oversized blanket. When you move the sensuous pleasure of the deep, soft pile of the fur against your skin is indescribable; no words can do it justice. It is tight, confining, though you have no desire to escape from its embrace.”

The power of his resonant, masculine, storytelling voice transported Carol from the restraint chair and the basement to the mountain cabin. At that moment all she wanted was for him to continue.

“You lean back into your man’s chest. His arms encircle you, pulling you close against him. In your heart you know this is his way of telling you he will never let you go. It is the point in time when everything comes together to transform into that perfect moment. All is right with the world; your dream has come true.”

There was a hypnotic rhythm that carried Pete’s words deep into her mind. He was still speaking yet the conscious part of her brain seemed to have shut down. She heard the words without understanding them. Somehow, it wasn’t important to think, only to feel the emotions he drew out. Carol was drifting off…

Revelation Carol awoke with a start. Something was wrong; she couldn’t move. She began struggling, confused and terrified.

“Stop that, right now!” Pete’s hands were on her shoulders, his face close, peering into her eyes. His stern tone had the desired effect, jolting her back to reality. As quickly as it started the panic attack passed.

“That’s better. You fell asleep. Judging by the contented look on your face you were deep in a lovely dream. I didn’t want to spoil it, so I watched over you until you woke up. It’s been about two hours.”

Carol blinked, slowly coming back to the present. She was in Pete’s basement, in the process of discovering the more mysterious side effects of bondage. Two hours in the restraint chair, that was far more than she expected. And it’s not over yet, she realized. I’m still stuck in this thing.

“Could you…” she trailed off. No, releasing me should be up to him. “Could you scratch my nose? It’s driving me crazy.” Carol had a newfound appreciation of what it meant to surrender control. His way is the right way, that she remembered. There was a good reason she couldn’t remove the restraints on her own. No halfway measures, she reminded herself. I asked for this; it would be wrong to not respect my part of our agreement.

There was a long pause before he did rub her nose. He knows what I was going to say. The look of disappointment on Pete’s face all but broke her heart. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a key.

“Pete? Please wait, hear me out.” He stopped and took a step back, his head tilted to one side in curiosity.

“The story, about the cabin, the way you shaped a wonderful dream, that was way beyond anything I expected. You invested a lot of effort in me; I don’t want to ruin it for you.” Carol twisted back and forth in a vain attempt to free herself. “See? I’m here until you decide to let me go. I’m fine where I am, so don’t rush into anything out of concern for me.”

Pete released the brake on the restraint chair so he could spin her around. He sat down and crossed his arms. “I think of bondage as ninety percent mental. Physical control, sure, that’s the easy part…assuming you have a willing victim.” He gave her an evil leer that made her laugh.

“The complex part is what happens next. There’s the usual stuff you read about online, almost always involving sex. It’s a variation on the romance novel bodice-rippers, overcoming feigned resistance, indulging in some kind of rape fantasy that comes with being helpless, unable to resist the overpowering pseudo-villain.” Pete shrugged. “Fine if you like that stuff, but it does become repetitive.”

Carol found herself agreeing with him. “I have to admit I do find certain aspects of your description appealing, but you’re right. After about the tenth story they all blur together.” She did feel a little embarrassed talking about her fantasies, yet here she was, in his basement, acting them out.

Pete leaned forward, once more placing a hand on her knee. “If I claim I have transcended the base instinct of lust then you’d have every right to doubt anything else I said. There is a time and place for being intimate, but tonight is not it.

“I’ve revealed my secret purpose in pursuing bondage. More than anything else I want to get inside your head, shape your every thought toward my own ends. Physical bondage removes the distractions. Mental bondage, the handcuffs I place on your hopes and dreams, that’s what drives me. The cabin in the mountains was a glimpse into what it can be.

“Don’t be concerned that you’re somehow spoiling the evening. Far from it. Sure, I know what you were about to ask me.” He held out his other hand. In it was the key. “This is all that’s needed to release you from the chair. Not much to look at, but what it represents matters far more than appearance.” He dropped it back into his shirt pocket.

“A question unasked, an answer unspoken. If you hadn’t stopped mid-sentence, do you believe I was willing to let you go? Would you have been disappointed if I did as you requested?”

Carol stared at Pete, bewildered by the fact she couldn’t find ready replies to his disturbing questions. She was at a loss for words. The long, silent pause dragged on. He sat opposite her, not in any way threatening, yet she could feel…something…passing between them.

“Bondage,” he began, “is All About. Exerting power over another; and surrendering freedom, the loss of power, to another. To reach the full experience, the total loss, can be a difficult threshold to cross. That’s where you are now. Do you feel it?”

This was it, she thought. She looked him in the eye. “Please let me go,” she said, without any emotion behind it.

Pete smiled. He was certain he had judged her correctly.

All About Control · Part 2 (2/2)
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