Twenty Minutes · Part 1 (1/2)
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So today is my take a deep breath, let's-do-this day. I've taken the day off from my waitressing job at the cafe, and come up to the city on the train. Getting to the studio partly on foot in this heat has made me a little hot and bothered, but the real stress came from the anxiety of finally taking the plunge.
Ever since I'd moved to the Bay area, I'd been aware of this studio, and of the kind of movies it specialized in. Damsels in distress – it was the kind of thing I'd fantasized about ever since that one time an ex had tied me down as a teen, and I'd pretended not to like it. He'd shown me pictures of girls tied up, ball-gagged, and such. I was younger then, and forgot about it, consigning all that kind of thing to the domain of misogynistic fantasy.
But I also felt there must be a part of it that's real. The models in those movies I'd seen, were they there just for the money? I had later become fascinated by them, and as my interest grew, I would often imagine myself in their shoes. I had grown into a beautiful young woman, and I felt there was no reason I couldn't look just as good as them.
A conversation I'd had with a girl in a recent yoga class had crossed into the subject of shibari, and talking about it with another human had suddenly made what I wanted to do today seem a little less "perverted". The itch I had had grown, and needed to be scratched. Today I was doing something about it, once and for all.
The girl who buzzed me into the reception stands up to greet me when I come in.
"Welcome Sarah" she says with a smile, and shakes my hand. "We spoke on the phone right?" l nod. "Well I'm Gretta. I'm the office manager here! So it sounds like you're taking the plunge today, huh?" She returned to her chair, and invited me to sit.
"Yes!" I say, "That's a good way to describe it! I've been thinking about this for a while – I did nearly chicken out on the way over here. But mostly I think I just need to try this out once and for all, you know? See how I go, take it from there?"
"Oh yes, of course. Sarah you wouldn't believe how many times I've heard that exact sentiment coming from that exact chair, from beautiful young women, just like you. The first step is the hardest, no doubt about it."
"So now," she continues, “today is going to be part interview, part introduction. I'm going to first chat with you about what we're expecting from you, and then I'll hand you over later on to Henry in the studio for some practical work, if you like." She laughs, and it's genuinely disarming.
"Sounds good!" I say.
Gretta steps me through my portfolio, and says that despite my lack of experience, my success would more likely come down to my looks, my flexibility, and my stamina.
"So you're a good-looking girl, Sarah. I'm surprised you haven't done any modeling before. These photos in your file, did you get them done by a pro?"
"No," I laugh, "Those are all done by my ex," I lie. I don't want to admit I'd done them myself with a timer. They are about as risqué as I'm willing to share, and I left some of the more extreme samples at home.
She holds up a picture of me in a bra with my hands cuffed behind me. It's the edgiest photo in the set. "Would you like to end up with a few more like this today?" she asks.
"Well, that's the kind of thing you want here, right?" I say, trying not to blush. Gretta holding up one of my pictures feels a little like an invasion of my privacy, but that's something I had expected today.
"Not far off!" she says, "We'll get Henry – our rigger here – to take a look at you and see what you can do. Oh, I should also mention that there is a pretty well-known producer coming in today. He might be interested in taking a look at you too if there's time."
"Oh – who's that?"
"Jason Green – his signature is straps and belts, and tight elbows! He's always interested in models who can get their elbows together, especially new models like you. Would you be comfortable with that – with him coming in to see your progress?"
I gulp. Today was going to be my big day getting bound for the first time. That's already a lot. Is Gretta now suggesting this would become some kind of screen test for some adult movie producer?
I try to avoid that reality by backtracking: "I meant to ask you about that – how strictly do I need to actually have my elbows touching?"
"Yea – that's a good question," she says, "We are pretty big on that here, and Jason is known to be super strict on it. I've seen him go for less good-looking models just because they had better flexibility, you know? He really wants that tight look. So how is your flexibility?" She sees me flinch and continues, "Don't worry – Henry can help you out there. He's very good at getting the most out of our new girls; he's got a few exercises that'll help you get those elbows together."
"Exercises – You mean he's going to do some stretching with me?"
"You could call it that," she laughs. "So with Henry, he's going to put you through your paces, test you out. He might try some other stuff with you, but mostly he's gonna check your elbow flexibility, and see what your limits are. If he's got some stretching for you to do, you could be in there for an hour or two, but you’ll be out of here after that. That sound OK to you?"
"Sure – I've got the day off, so I'm pretty much all yours," I say, without noting the irony of my own words.
"OK! Great! So let's get you out to Henry!" she announces cheerfully. "The sooner you start, the sooner you finish!"
She gets up to show me to an already open door, and leads me out into the hall. The next door up is titled "Tack Room". She pushes it open and calls out for Henry, who eventually emerges from behind some shelving holding a screwdriver.
"Oh, hi!" he says.
"Sarah – this is Henry, our main rigger and trainer," says Gretta.
"Hi Sarah – I hear we've got some tying to do today, is that right?" says Henry.
I blush into a nervous smile; "Oh my God, I'm so embarrassed! What have I gotten myself into?" I say.
"Ha don't worry, we'll go easy on you," he says, looking for somewhere to put down his screwdriver.
Gretta announces, "So Sarah's going to need your help to get her elbows touching by this evening – can you get on that? If she can manage it, Jason will maybe be interested in taking a look at her if he comes in later. Sound good to you guys?" she says, rather like a teacher.
I nod in agreement, and as Henry comes to shake my hand, Gretta goes to leave, saying: "Alright Sarah – knock "em dead!" giving me a first pump gesture. Then she's gone, leaving me to my fate.
Henry looks like he's about to say something to break the silence, and I'm now feeling a little like I've been thrown to the wolves. It's just me and him now. I start to feel a lump in my throat, but then the door opens again, and Gretta pokes her head in. "Henry, don't forget – collar first." She smiles, and the door closes again.
I catch my breath at the comment, but don't question it. Presumably she means I’ll be asked to wear a collar? Who knows.
Henry has by now already taken my handbag, and hung it up on a coat hook on the wall. He heads over to the counter and starts rooting around a drawer full of buckles and straps. He's not so chatty, but his demeanor is reassuringly relaxed and easy.
"So, welcome, Sarah," he says finally, "Is this your first time doing this kind of thing?"
"Yes it is, I had to pluck up the courage to come over here today." I laugh.
"OK – so definitely some of this will seem weird to you, and uncomfortable, but just keep in mind all this is just to prep you for the real thing, OK?"
"Sure – I am fully expecting all of the above!" I laugh again.
He smiles. "So first of all I'm gonna ask you to take off that shirt – it's a little bulky for this kind of thing, OK? Wanna hang it up there with your bag?" he says, heading for the shelving at the back of the room.
My shirt is a long linen man shirt, and it dawns on me it might not have been the wisest choice for today. Underneath I've got a very revealing black thong bodysuit. It seemed sexy putting it on this morning, but now seems inappropriately revealing in front of Henry.
Pushing aside my squeamishness, I get busy undoing my buttons, and reach to hang the shirt up on the hook.
I scan my body to see if I'm falling out anywhere – the suit has the highest narrow thong leg you can imagine, and the button bottom gusset sometimes gets its own ideas.
"Shoes too?" I shout, reaching down for my right ankle strap.
"Oh you can keep them on if you like," he shouts back.
Nothing screams "whore" louder than heels and a thong, but taking them off will make me so short and small! I bite my lip and cross my arms to cover my chest!
He turns to see me standing awkwardly. "Oh wow, look at you! What are you, a track athlete or something? Man, you're in great shape!" I blush but the ostentatious compliment is actually quite reassuring right now. "Take a seat."
I half sit on a nearby high stool, as he approaches me with what looks like a black dog collar.
"Alright, let's see…" With a touch of my chin, Henry loops the collar around my neck. I lift up my ponytail without even thinking about it. From behind me he says, "So this stays on while you're here – think of it as your work uniform! So you'll never be fully naked," he laughs.
"OK," Is the only nervous response I can come up with.
He then fidgets with it and l hear what sounds like the click of a lock.
"Is that a padlock?" I ask.
"There you go! Looks good on you!" he says, ignoring my question.
"Thanks?" I grimace, fingering the small lock behind my neck.
"OK, so we're gonna get your arms bound, priority one." He's back in front of me now, counting on his fingers, in a matter of fact way. "And we're gonna see if you pass the elbow test – let's see how flexible you are." He moves back behind me, and pulls my forearms behind me to touch my two wrists together. My breath quickens. I feel my moment of submission coming. I take a deep swallow and surrender my wrists.
"OK – this is promising," he announces as he pushes my elbows together, gently at first, then more forcefully as I notice my chest pushing forward under the strain. He lets go, and I pull my arms back gratefully back in front of me, but he stops me. "Hey I need those back!"
Like an obedient student I connect my wrists together behind me again, not realizing that he's now pulled a short buckled strap out of his pocket. Gripping both wrists together in one hand, he quickly loops the strap around them and buckles it tight. I freeze in shock.
"Oh, so you're tying me right now? OK…" I gulp.
Oh my God… This is really happening, and my heart starts pounding so loud I'm wondering if he can hear it. I'm still trying to judge the character of this guy, but asking me to trust him with all this is really REALLY difficult for me right now.
He doesn't respond to my question but now picks up a longer strap from the counter top. I involuntarily pull away from him, as he slips it behind my forearms, below my elbows.
"Quit wriggling."
It's a request to fully accept my captivity, and take it like a man. It's a power shift and it takes me by surprise. I know I have to buy into what's being done to my body, but I'm having trouble with how fast we're moving now.
"Quit MOVING!" he orders again.
Part of me wants to say: "STOP", but I just can't get that simple word out – I really don't need more conflict to add to my stress right now!
I'm almost panting wondering what's happening behind me, as I feel the strap tighten a little. Then he gets more purchase and really forces my elbows closer, forcing an audible grunt out of me. The strap tightens some more as I hear the steel of the hasp being buckled.
I breathe again – although with shorter breaths.
Oh my God – what am I getting into. A man I've just met has just turned me into a bondage sub less than five minutes after meeting him. Despite my heavier breathing, there is a silence between us now that makes the atmosphere a little uncomfortable. Henry's all business and now he's coming back with a third strap.
The stool wobbles a little as I try to slip back off it, and take a step back. It's weird but I can't help but move away from him. Is this a game? If it is, I'm definitely the mouse. I'm so nervous I think I might giggle.
As part of me considers fleeing, he reaches up to my collar and puts his finger through a small D-ring I hadn't noticed was there. Looking straight into my eyes now, he pulls me forward, like an errant dog. My heels make a racket on the floor as he pulls me almost off balance and drags me up to the counter. He keeps pulling on the collar until my chest is almost down on the counter.
"Jesus, Henry!" I say.
"Sarah, this will all go much easier if you don't fight it, you know."
Oddly, his comment makes sense. I take a deep breath. I try to relax and be still. I focus on my breath forming condensation on the glossy countertop, and listen as he lifts my arms and manages to get the third strap under my upper arms.
Twenty Minutes · Part 1 (1/2)
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