I met Zoe at a photoshoot. She was to grace the cover of a very popular local fashion magazine. She, and her agency, agreed to waive the usual fees. The cover was to be in support of PETA. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Zoe was a highly sought after model, and stubborn, very stubborn.
I was asked to weave Zoe in a bikini out of rope for the cover of the next issue of the magazine, by a freelance photographer, Katja, which I had met at a friend's Shibari class.
Katja had texted an image of an artist's rendition of the model in a rope bikini. The drawing depicted a woman with her arms over her head, bound in a full arm sleeve, with her breasts and hips bound by just enough rope to cover her naughty bits.
The shoot was scheduled for a Saturday morning. When I arrived at the studio, Andrea, Zoe's manager, had me sign an NDA, and a waiver to the effect that the rights to my work on the shoot belonged to the company she represented. Once I had signed both documents, we got to work.
Andrea asked for the crew's attention and introduced me to the staff of eight. "Everyone, this is Gil. The rope guy," she chuckled. The atmosphere was much more relaxed that I had anticipated. Probably due to the fact that I was at least twice everyone's age.
Zoe walked over to Andrea and me, and said hello. "I assume you want me naked, rope guy?" she chuckled.
I laughed at her remark. It was her way of breaking the ice and calming my nerves, in the event I was uncomfortable with what she assumed was a new experience for me.
"I could always tear your clothes off, if you're into that kind of thing," I replied and winked at her.
She laughed and replied, "Cheeky, rope guy. Very cheeky. You ready?"
"At your service, Zoe," I smiled.
Zoe crossed her arms across her torso and grabbed the bottom of her sports bra. With a wink, she turned away from me and walked to where she would be photographed, marked by an X on the floor. She lifted the sports-bra over her head, and tossed it aside. I heard her giggle as she bent at the hips and pulled her yoga pants down to her ankles. She stepped out of them, and turned around to face me. I chuckled at the sight of Zoe with flesh colored pasties on her nipples, and a matching thong.
"A girl has to leave somethings to the imagination," she snickered. "I'm all yours, rope guy," Zoe playfully announced.
I was startled when an annoyingly loud bass track filled the large studio.
"I love this song!" Zoe screamed out as she lifted her hands over her head and gyrated her hips to the mindless, synthetic beat.
I made my way to Zoe, grabbed one of the dozen coiled ropes from a small table, and uncoiled it. I squeezed the rope in my fists and pulled my hands apart quickly, to get a feel of its burn speed. I chuckled to myself, 'Old habits die hard.' The rope's burn speed was inconsequential for Zoe. I would be wrapping it around her, not torturing her with it. 'Shame,' I grinned to myself.
Zoe leaned close to me and yelled out, "You like rap, rope guy?"
I grinned and replied, "Can't stand it."
Zoe laughed and danced harder. "I love it! It has so much energy! We'll start after this song, okay? It's kind of a ritual to relax everyone."
I nodded and looked at everyone in the studio bopping their heads in unison to the beat. When the noise finally stopped, Zoe thanked the girl that had doubled as the DJ.
Zoe smiled and nodded at me to start.
"There is no polite way to say this, Zoe. I will be touching and positioning your body many times during the tie. I'll leave the arm sleeve for the end, since it will be the most challenging and uncomfortable for you," I informed her.
Zoe chuckled back her response, "If you're going to cop a feel, promise you'll still respect me in the morning. No need to explain, you have my permission. It was sweet of you to mention it. I've worked with some real creeps that have treated me like nothing more than meat."
"Let's start. Turn around, Zoe," I instructed her.
The tie was simple and quick. Zoe's playfulness provided a great deal of entertainment for everyone in studio. She would wiggle her hips. Shift her weight from one foot to the other. Or, brush her breasts against my hands as I was adjusting the rope, and giggle. It was harmless flirting.
Zoe is a very beautiful young woman. She's a leggy, five-foot-seven-inches tall, strawberry blonde. There was no doubt that she looked after herself, and that she took her profession very seriously. My eyes would wander to the vertical line from her solar plexus to her bellybutton whenever she was facing me. I find that much more sexy and arousing to look at than a woman with a six-pack. Her girlish hips and a tight, slim waist, add to that her tight round ass, and you get a ton of trouble on a Saturday night. I'm sure she broke hearts just by walking by guys and girls alike.
Amidst the fun, curiosity, and sexual overtones of the scene, a brief moment crossed the line and into sexual arousal for me and Zoe. I was on my knees, behind Zoe, when I asked her to spread her legs. Zoe did so without giving it a second thought. I slid the rope between her legs and I told her to bring her knees together and hold the rope in place. I stood up and made my way around to face her. I grabbed the rope and pulled its entire length between her thighs.
Playfully, I pulled the rope upwards with a gentle tug. To stop Zoe form wiggling her hips. The rope slid between her pussy lips and dug gently into her folds. Zoe reacted as any woman would have at the unexpected intrusion; she stood up on her toes and was shocked for an instant. She tried to read why I had stimulated her most sensitive and private area with the rope, by the look in my eyes.
She smirked and said. "Smartass. It seems that there is more to this rope stuff than meets the eye. And, I think there is more to you, rope guy, than meets the eye. Not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing." She winked and asked, "Did we just have a moment, rope guy?"
I grinned and tugged the rope gently once again, as I replied, "Perhaps, Zoe."
The second time I sent the rope exploring between her pussy lips, Zoe did not go up on her toes. Her cheeks flushed and she gasped softly, before replying, "I'm sure of it, there is definitely more to his rope stuff than I had imagined. We've had two special moments. Wanna go for the hat trick?" she chuckled.
"I wouldn't want to spoil you, Zoe. Get your mind out of the gutter," I replied as I furrowed my brow in mock sternness.
"Oh, you are a very bad man. Teasing me like that. There is definitely more to you than you let on, rope guy," she pouted.
"My name is Gil. Please stop referring to me as that. And you're right, I am much more than just a rope guy," I replied to her.
Once I had completed adorning Zoe's body in rope, I stood out of everyone's way and watched the crew do their work. When the photographer announced it was a wrap. Everyone clapped, and cheered, and hollered.
"She's all yours, Gil. You can untie her," the photographer said to me after the cheering had died down.
"Will you be attending the party tonight, Gil? You are on the guest list, right?" Zoe asked as I untied the stop knot in the arm sleeve.
"I am on the list, but I won't be attending. I don't think I could listen to another rap song in its entirety for another twenty-five years, minimum," I chuckled.
Zoe laughed and replied, "I'll keep you company, if you tell me more about rope."
"Some other time, Zoe. I will gladly answer any questions you have."
~
Two weeks had passed since the photo-shoot. Zoe had popped in and out of my mind each day, since. I felt a strong, sexual attraction to her. My mind would wander to having her in my rope, suspended, or bound with her limbs bent and twisted, on my bed, or on the floor, in a state of willing erotic suffering, and completely under my control. My cock would grow to full erection at the images of Zoe that I would conjure up in my mind.
Strange as it seemed to me, I knew that I would never be sadistic to her. Even if Zoe gave her consent, I could never put her career risk. There is never a guarantee that any session, no matter how carefully planned and played out, will unfold exactly as intended. The risk of damage to the bottom's skin, joints, tendons and muscle tissue are a potential reality in any session. Accidents happen. Anyone who has indulged in the rougher side of sex, all have stories of scenes gone wrong. For many, the risk itself contributes to the rush, to the excitement of the scene. That's part of the physiological blue print of risk takers. Participating in potential dangerous behavior is part of the thrill, or high, for them.
I was at my desk early that Monday morning. The IT department had installed security patches on hundreds of workstations over the weekend. I wanted to get a jump on any issues that might have occurred because of the patches. Although the patches are always tested on workstations in a UAT environment, there is no guarantee that patching in the live environment will be trouble free.
My phone rang a few minutes after eight o'clock. The LED display showed the name of the caller, Rhonda, the receptionist on the floor. I answered the call. Rhonda informed me that I had a visitor with a package for me. I let her know that I was on my way to greet the person.
I was greeted by a smiling Zoe as I pressed the button to disengage the magnetic lock of the glass door that separated the reception area from our offices.
"Hope you don't mind that I showed up unannounced, Gil," Zoe nervously greeted me.
The way I looked in a suit threw her for a loop. I was wearing track pants and a hoodie when we met. The sudden widening of her eyes, exposing more of her sclera, the white portion of eyes, coupled with the subtle lowering of her head is an indicator of attraction, and submission. Not in a sexual sense; it's body language indicating that we don't pose a threat.
I always found it peculiar that the body language for attraction, and for fear, is very similar.
"Not at all, Zoe," I replied, unable to suppress a smile. I held the door open for her and thanked Rhonda.
I closed my office door and pulled out chair for Zoe. She sat down and thanked me, and I sat behind my desk.
"How have you been, Gil?" Zoe asked as she placed a wrapped package in the shape of a thin book on my desk. "This is for you. I thought you would like something to remember the photo-shoot by."
I wanted to tell her that I'd remember the experience, regardless. Instead, I smiled and thanked her, and let her know that the gift was a pleasant surprise.
"Go ahead, open it. I hope you like it," Zoe giggled, and watched on excitedly as I unwrapped the memento.
I chuckled as I read what Zoe had written on the photograph. 'Thanks for showing me the ropes. Zoe'.
"That's the picture they chose for the cover. Hope you don't mind that I wrote a message on it. I couldn't help myself," she laughed.
"Not at all. It's not original, but, it never gets old," I grinned.
Zoe pouted and winked as she replied, "You mean to tell me I'm not your first?"
"Unfortunately not. You're my second," I chuckled back at her.
Zoe laughed and asked, "If your offer to answer questions I have still stands, I'm in town for the next six weeks with nothing much to do. Maybe we can chat over dinner and a few drinks? My treat, of course."
I wanted to jump all over Zoe's offer before she finished asking her question. Instead, I sat back in my chair and waited a few seconds before answering, "I would gladly join you for dinner and conversation. Just say when and where."
Zoe leaned forward in her chair before she replied, "Is tonight, at nine, too short of notice for you? Boca's, downtown? I already made the reservation." Zoe playfully batted her eyes at me as she confessed.
I grinned and replied, "Who's the cheeky one now? Yes, tonight at nine is fine."
Zoe stood from her chair and made her way to the office door. "I'll see myself out. See you tonight, Gil."
~
I arrived at Boca's a few minutes before nine. Zoe was seated at a corner table at the back of the restaurant. She was looking down at her cell phone while her fingers moved across its screen.
"Hello again, Zoe," I greeted her.
Zoe looked up from her phone and smiled, "Not sick of me yet?"
"There is lots of time for me to change my mind, the night is young," I chuckled.
Zoe gasped and replied, "Dutch treat tonight. You can pay for your own dinner, if you're going to be mean to me."
We chatted about trivial things and sipped wine while we waited for our orders. As the night went on, Zoe became more fidgety, and found it unnerving to hold my gaze. She obviously wanted to breach the subject of rope, but wasn't quite certain of how to slip the topic into our conversation.
I smiled at her and said, "Shoot. Ask away, Zoe."
She giggled and blushed. "Thank you!" her words came out a bit louder than she had intended. "Okay. I was dying to begin interrogating you." She took a sip of wine and continued, "I Googled what you do. Some of it is very beautiful. Some of it is terrifying."
I nodded. "A natural and normal reaction for someone who is introduced to it for the first time. It can be a bit overwhelming to the senses."
"Some of it looks beyond painful. And women still come back for more?" she whispered.
I smiled as I replied, "Yes."
Her next question was predictable, "Why? I don't get the pain part. How could anyone enjoy pain?"
I had explained what Zoe asked many times, to many women. I had to ease into the explanation. Experience had taught me not only to start with the non-threating scenarios, but to compare rope bondage to something that they might have experienced, or would like to experience. That everyone has different likes and dislikes. And most importantly, I had to be aware of the person's reactions to what I was saying to them. If the mild scenarios garnered a very negative or aggressive reaction, it is best that you not continue the conversation.
Pain is not the opposite pleasure. In fact, we react to both sensations in almost identical ways. Depending on the individual's pain threshold, the intensity of play can be increased. That was the crux of the message that I would try to make Zoe understand. If she was open to it, I would continue.
"Are you ticklish, Zoe?" I asked.
Tickling is a good, non-threatening topic to start off with. Most everyone has experienced it and walked away unharmed. And they have probably been held down while being tickled, harmless physical interaction. Some people get a kick out of being tickled.
She nodded, brought her arms tight against her sides and snickered, "Extremely, especially under my arms."
I laughed at Zoe's reaction. "How would you describe the sensation of being tickled, painful or pleasurable?"
Zoe thought about the question and replied, "Neither, really. I hate it, but it doesn't hurt. It's a form of torture, if you ask me."
I smiled, "I'm not ticklish. Therefore I can't relate to how it feels to you, or anyone else. I do know some people that hate being tickled, but, will allow themselves to be restrained and tickled till it becomes painful, and claim to enjoy it on some level. Your comment is bang on, Zoe. Tickling was a form of torture at one time in our history."
Her next question was also predictable. She sipped her wine to wet her dry mouth and asked, "Still, I don't understand how pain is a turn on for some people. Why would anyone agree to intentionally be hurt?"
"You believe that pain is the opposite of pleasure, Zoe?"
"Yes, of course it is," she replied.
"That's a common and incorrect presupposition. Pain, is not the opposite of pleasure. Boredom is the closest thing to being the opposite of pleasure. In fact, we react, on all levels, very similar to both pain and pleasure. The same parts of the brain are stimulated when either is introduced to us. Heart rate and blood flow increase, the same chemicals are released, our tolerance to pain is temporarily increased by those chemicals," I explained.
"How can they not be opposites, one is pleasurable, the other is not? And why do we need an increased tolerance to pain when we are feeling pleasure?" Zoe asked a bit miffed at what I had explained.
"Activities designed to induce an orgasm, aren't always tender and gentle, Zoe. The act of intercourse itself could be viewed as violent, in a way. Imagine for a moment, not having your tolerance to pain increased during penetration, and your partner was, shall we say, very enthusiastic with his thrusting in and out of you. Part of the arousal process, along with the secretion of natural lubricants, the heightened sensitivity of our sex organs, and the release of chemicals to prepare a body for sex, is an increased tolerance to pain. Otherwise, it wouldn't be pleasurable. Have you ever been with someone who was a bit too eager, and they entered you, prior to you being properly stimulated and prepared?"
Zoe blushed, her lips twitched once with nervous energy, and answered, "Yes. It hurt like hell." She thought back to a former boyfriend that had come home drunk, and shoved his cock inside her as she lay asleep. "It does make sense in a way. The same holds true after an orgasm. At times, if he continues to thrust enthusiastically, as you put it, it is painful. Or, if the thrusting goes on for too long."
"That is true for men also, Zoe. After an orgasm or multiple orgasms, depending on the person, the body will begin the process to return itself to a normal state, once the person is sexually satisfied. It stops releasing the chemicals that are required to keep us stimulated and in a varying degree of immunity to pain, and releases different chemicals to take us back to a neutral state. Intercourse brings with it a feeling of euphoria, and it should, or else we'd never survive as a species. After we've been satisfied sexually, sex organs are sometimes tender to even the slightest touch, or can ache and throb for a long time afterwards. Just as you mentioned, it's painful if it goes on too long. Yet, moments prior, the same enthusiastic thrusting was the cause of the euphoric feeling. If impact play is part of a session, there is no guarantee that the bottom's threshold of pain won't be breached. Everyone goes into a session with that knowledge and will make their partner aware if whatever they are doing needs to be toned down, or completely stopped. Answer this question, Zoe. Would you prefer to be flogged, or, to be tickled?" I asked.
Zoe laughed out loud and took a moment to answer. "Flogged, hands down, I guess."
"Does the thought of being flogged arouse you? Would you agree to allow someone to flog you? Or, is the thought of being, or watching someone being flogged that stimulates you, but you would never engage in it?"
Zoe smiled and replied, "I'm not sure. If it feels anything like being spanked, maybe I would. Spanking was kind of hot, the few times I have tried it."
I chuckled, "It takes a certain type of personality to venture out of the vanilla realm. There's hope for you yet. Just as we all have unique fingerprints. We all have unique sexual fingerprints. Everyone is made up of almost infinite combinations of what they'd be willing try, compromise, and what they enjoy and don't enjoy."
Zoe grinned at what I had said. It was the perfect moment to switch topics, and engage me to talk about my sexual fingerprint. "On that note, Gil. Tell me all the things about you that don't meet the eye."
I laughed and took a sip of wine prior to answering her question. "The short answer; I'm a rope top, I do the tying, with a taste for things that are not gentle. It is very arousing to me, to be in control of what my partner is allowed to feel, or not allowed to feel. I enjoy inflicting mild to extreme sensations, and get aroused by the knowledge that my partner is willing to allow me to do so. I hope you have a better understanding that pain and pleasure are not opposites. What I practice is controlled and consensual. I don't tie women up and proceed with no regard for their well-being. It is the complete opposite, in reality." I took a sip of wine and asked, "Have you ever ached for a pleasurable feeling, or sexual release?"
"Yes," Zoe replied as her cheeks reddened.
"How would you describe that specific felling?" I followed up.
Zoe chuckled, "It hurt so good, just like the song says."
I smiled at her reply. A short silence fell between us.
Zoe swallowed hard and asked, "What do you feel, what goes on in your mind when you have a woman tied up and at your mercy?"
"The feelings and thoughts vary, Zoe. Sometimes, my rope symbolizes an altar. Sometimes, I worship the body tangled in the rope. Other times, I see the rope as a sacrificial altar and her body as an offering. It depends on my mood, and everything that led up to getting together with the person."
Zoe smiled and coyly asked, "Which altar do you want me on, Gil?"
I laughed and replied, "Both. And everything in-between, Zoe."
Zoe sat back in her chair, crossed her arms, and looked away from me. Three body language signs that unmistakably were signals that she was somewhere in-between being uncomfortable with what I had disclosed to her, or properly pissed off and disgusted. It was time to ease up and reel things in, or end the conversation all together, depending on how Zoe reacted next.
"May I ask what images popped into your head that accompanied what I said to you, Zoe?" I calmly asked her and sat back in my chair, further increasing the distance between us, as a sign of non-aggression, of backing off the subject if she so chose.
Zoe uncrossed her arms and placed them on the table, decreasing the distance between us. An encouraging sign that she had not been disgusted or frightened to the point of wanting to end the conversation.
"I was going to ask if you would consider providing me a more enthusiastic experience with your rope. Nothing too enthusiastic of course. You haven't once even hinted at the possibility of being alone with me," Zoe whispered over the table and held her breath as she waited for me to answer.
I shook my head and answered, "As much as I have thought about that very thing. It's not a good idea, Zoe. You have your career to think about. Marks on your body, or worse, could cost you jobs."
Zoe sat up straight and asked, "I'm not your type? You can tell me, I won't be offended. Lots of guys aren't attracted to model types."
I was certain that Zoe had sugar coated what she asked me. It was a polite way of asking if I was intimidated by her career, intimidated that she was a model.
"I wouldn't take the chance of putting your career at risk, Zoe. And you shouldn't either. That's the only reason. Being attracted to someone really isn't a factor for me to introduce them to rope. If it goes beyond that, then yes, attraction is a factor. I'd have to be out of my mind, or dead, not to be attracted to you," I calmly replied. Then I asked her, "How can you be sure that you can trust me?"
Zoe smiled as she answered, "I'll admit to being a bit intimidated and scared when I first saw you. But, you also put me in the mood for a gladiator fresh from the fight and not a knight in shining armor. You were very gentle and careful with the rope, Gil. Each time I moved or wiggled while you were wrapping the rope around me, you would adjust the rope to each movement I made. Not once did I feel the rope dig into me. Well, except for... you know," she giggled.
"You are describing to different worlds, Zoe. One of which you have no knowledge of," I replied calmly.
"Don't the other women you tie up have jobs?" Zoe countered.
"Yes, and some are also in relationships, or married. A mark on them can be explained away easily and won't have any consequence to their career. If I bruise them, they can always lie, and explain how they banged into the washing machine or dryer. Or how a cupboard door was open and they walked into it. Or, it happened when they were entering or getting out of their car. Or, they simply say that they don't know how they got the bruise," I explained.
"What if you're extra careful with me? And what if I don't have a shoot for a few weeks? That would give me plenty of time to heal, in the event you left marks wouldn't it? I researched the average time it takes for bruises to heal; it takes two to four weeks for them to clear up. I'm not made of glass, for your information," Zoe continued making her case in hopes I would reconsider.
I stared at Zoe and imagined having her bound, and fucking the living daylights out her. And how she would accept the pain and pleasure I inflicted on her beautiful body. Using her, calling her filthy names, and slapping her across her beautiful face. A face of such beauty, I was certain that goddesses would turn green with envy at the mere mention of her name. I imagined meeting her, days after, and ordering her pull down her top to show me the blooming bruises on her breasts, in a public place. And how aroused thinking of all the things I had done to her would make her. My cock grew to full erection quickly. I ached to reach over, grab a fist full of her hair and push her mouth on my cock till it was lodged deep in her throat.
"Well?" Zoe's voice snapped me out of my filthy daydream.
"No, Zoe. Although you aren't made of glass, you are susceptible to injuries," I sternly repeated. As much as I wanted her in my rope, I had to keep her career in mind.
"Fine. I'll find someone who will. You had your chance, Gil, remember that. I begged you, and threw myself at you. You didn't even offer to just fuck me. I guess you're too dense to know when a girl is interested in you." Zoe waved to the waiter to bring the bill, and added, "I've lost my appetite, and I have nothing left to say to you. Feel free to stay and finish the bottle of wine. My treat," she calmly informed me and dropped folded bills onto the table. She stopped next to my chair on making her exit, and added, "You have my cell number. Text me if you change your mind, or, if you're concerned with whom I choose to play with. Since you are all about watching out for my best interests which, in your opinion, I have no say in. I might, or might not reply."
I fought the urge to grab her arm and force her to sit and listen to reason. Instead, I clenched my jaw and let her walk away. The best option I had to get her to reconsider what she had planned, was to wait a few days, then text her, and ask her to meet for coffee and talk again. Scratch that, the best option available to me was to forget her. Not care about what she did in her personal life. Loose her cell number, and pretend I didn't want to protect her from men. Men just like me.
Something in my gut told me that Zoe wasn't going to make it easy for me. She'd only reaffirm what she had planned, and provide painstaking updates on her progress. I was still hard for her amid the grandiose mind fucking she was expertly providing me.
There was nothing malicious in Zoe's parting speech. She said what she needed to say and left the ball in my court. All in a casual, 'It's your move, Gil,' matter-of-fact delivery. I got angry at the possibility of Zoe hooking up with someone far too soon, and without enough experience to keep her safe and out of harm's way. I huffed in disgust at myself. What bothered me more was the possibility of Zoe finding an experienced player, one who would give her all she craved. One who'd pop her kink cherry, in a way she'd remember forever. I wanted to be the one Zoe knelt before upon her knees for the first time, and offered herself to be used, fucked and marked in a ritual to celebrate the second taking of her virginity.
~
I let three days go by before I texted Zoe and asked her how the search for a suitable play partner was progressing.
Zoe waited six hours to text me back, "Sorry. Just saw your text. I lied to you, Gil. And I'm not sorry. I had being chatting online with someone for a week, prior to asking you to dinner. We hit it off immediately. We've been texting and phoning each other for the better part of every day. I decided that it's time we meet in person. And thank you for all your advice, although he has a very different philosophy than yours. He's fun, and very willing to play with me. Not a stick in the mud, grumpy old man. I am so excited! Please be happy for me."
My stomach knotted up when I read her text. I felt the blood rush to my face and burn in my cheeks. I didn't want to believe what Zoe had informed me of. She's a smart, beautiful and charming young lady. She has her pick of men. None of which would have refused if she had offered herself to them. Except one. Me. 'Idiot,' I mumbled under my breath. The last time I remember feeling what reading Zoe's text made me feel, I was in my first year of university. 'When had I regressed back to being a young man who knew nothing about the world?' I thought to myself.
I texted her back, "You should reconsider your decision, Zoe. Talk to me one more time before you go ahead with your decision. If you still feel the same way afterwards, it'll be the last we ever talk about it,"
Zoe replied to my text immediately, "Sure. Same place as before? Nine o'clock tonight? There is no way you'll talk me out of this. Just so you know."
"I'll be there," I replied, relieved that I had the opportunity to talk her out of a potentially unpleasant experience.
~
Zoe arrived at the restaurant almost forty-five minutes late. She made her way to the table I was sitting at with a bounce in her step, and a beaming smile on her beautiful face. "I'm so, so, so sorry, Gil. I lost track of time... talking on the phone to... him," she cheerfully stated and sat down at the table.
"No worries. You texted me twice to let me know you were running late," I smiled as I poured Zoe a glass of Barolo. "I ordered dinner and wine for us. I hope you don't mind."
Our waitress approached the table and greeted Zoe, as she placed two plates of homemade Bigoli on our table. Zoe thanked her and reached for her glass of wine. She took a small sip, placed the glass back on the table, and pushed her plate to the side.
With her arms crossed on the table, she leaned towards to me, and whispered, "Do you want to hear about him, and what wants to do to me, Gil? It's so fucking hot."
Her language and tone was much different than the last time we spoke. There was a predatory feel in her words. It made sense; she had been, after-all, on the prowl. Similar to a lioness that is about to mate, the showing of fangs and fending off the male's advances, both actions serve to get the willing participants in the mood.
I nodded as I twirled a few noodles around the tines of my fork. Zoe stared at my hand and fingers twirling the fork in a smooth and steady rhythm.
As I brought the pasta to my mouth, Zoe grabbed my wrist and giggled, "Feed me first. I love how twirl pasta on your fork. You make it look sexy. Just like when you twirled the rope around me."
Her tone and language had suddenly switched to the other end of the spectrum. It was soft, void of any aggression, submissive. I was in for a long night.
I chuckled and offered her my pasta. Zoe parted her lips and stared in my eyes as I guided the fork carefully past her lips. She closed her mouth around the fork, and I pulled it out of her mouth.
"Mmm!" Zoe hummed her approval as she closed her eyes and chewed the food.
"Continue, please," I said to her as she reached for her glass of wine.
"Okay, here we go," she replied in a whisper. "He's older than me. But, not as old as you, and has no gray hair, like you do. He's on the right side of forty, compared to you being on the wrong side of fifty." Zoe paused for a few seconds and added, "Not that there is anything wrong with you being close to sixty, Gil." She scanned my face for any reaction that I might have had to her 'old man' comment, and then continued, "He keeps his face clean shaven. He informed me that guys with facial hair are hiding something, and are insecure. You have a goatee, so you see where I am going with this. He also does not have one wrinkle on his face, like you do. His eyes are the deepest, sexiest blue I have ever seen. He's tall, very tall, six-foot-six, sexy, solid muscle from head to toe. He lifts weights every day."
Zoe stopped talking and kept her hawk like focus on my face, determined not to miss any reaction I might have had to her tale, no matter how slight that reaction might have been.
I took a sip of my wine and patted my lips with the napkin. "Go on," I urged Zoe.
She took a quick glance at the other patrons, to make sure no one was looking over at us, and inched closer across the table. "He's a Master, with twenty years of experience, and has trained close to one-hundred slaves." Zoe closed her eyes and sighed, "Oh the things he wants to do to me, Gil. I think I might be in love." She tilted her head upwards and closed her eyes. "Mmm, it's all so delicious. He told me that I will love the dark side."
I forced a smiled, and replied, "He sounds like an extraordinary human being. Why would anyone consider two or more people getting together for a mutually, sexually satisfying experience, dark? There is nothing dark about it, there is no dark side. He sounds like a flake, but, continue, tell me what delicious darkness he has in store for you."
An extraordinary human being that I wanted to punch in the mouth a few dozen times. Then, tie him to a chair with piano wire, and throw him down of couple dozen flight of stairs. Whoever Zoe had been chatting with online was looking to get off behind a keyboard, and nothing else.
Zoe took a quick sip of wine, wiped her lips, and excitedly continued, "He's big time into biting," she whispered and winked at me. "I almost came when he told me that he is going to bite my nipple and drink my blood from it. He calls it, vampire breast-feeding. He's also a Vampire Master. You probably never heard of that, have you, Gil? He invented it. He told me that it has taken the BDSM world by storm. Exciting, don't you think?"
There was a 'Fuck you, Gil. That'll teach you,' tone in her voice. It was unmistakable, and Zoe didn't even try to cover it up. I suddenly wondered if meeting with Zoe was a good idea. Perhaps, I should have kept my nose out of her business, and my mouth shut. Her words stung. In that moment I wondered if I was getting too old for this shit. Maybe, I had lost my edge. Maybe, it was time to hang up the ropes. Maybe, I should consider a serious relationship and leave this lifestyle behind. I had had a good run. An extraordinary run, some would say.
It wasn't the first time that I had been in the same situation. Many women had tried to convince me to engage in acts that were well out of the realm of safety. A common scenario among anyone who has been introduced to kink and enjoyed the experience. They become over enthusiastic after a few play sessions, if they don't suffer any injuries or damage. And, become much too eager to push limits beyond their level experience and knowledge.
I usually am calm, collected, and level headed when I have had to explain the risks involved in what they were asking. And how the odds were highly in favor of them being seriously injured. Not so with Zoe. I became frustrated, on the verge of getting angry with her, and jealous.
"Not my cup of tea. Continue, please," I calmly replied as I brought a fork full of pasta to my mouth and fought the urge to spit it out back on the plate.
"Oh!" Zoe almost jumped out of her chair. When she realized how loud she had said the word, she took a quick inventory if anyone was looking over at her. Her exclamation had gone unnoticed. A sense of relief washed over her. "He also explained what you tried explaining to me. You know, about pain not being the opposite of pleasure? But, he succeeded in making me understand it, and his explanation was much more in depth than your attempt." Her body movements were as exaggerated as her tone and facial expressions that accompanied the words. As painful as listening to Zoe knocking me down was. I had to admire her style, especially her choice of words. Attempt... 'Good one, Zoe,' I thought to myself. She might just as well have said failed.
"How so?" I asked. A hint of a growl, unintentionally, accompanied my words. I felt my nostrils flare, and my eyes narrow. Fuck, I was losing my cool in the presence of this young lady. The thought of retiring my ropes seemed a welcomed relief compared to what Zoe was making me feel.
Zoe fought back a smirk, knowing that she had succeeded in getting a rise out of me. She celebrated the small victory by motioning me to feed her again. I twirled a few pasta noodles with my fork and offered it to her. Zoe took her sweet time chewing the pasta. It was obvious she wanted to keep me on the verge of my boiling over point till she was ready to see me lose my cool.
"He gave me a real life example, one that I had experienced, one that I could relate to. Not all that science and psycho stuff you told me. He asked if I had ever had a bruise. I said, 'Of course.' He asked, 'Didn't the bruise feel good when you touched it?' I thought about it, and he was right! He's a genius!"
I laughed out loud to subdue and hide the growl that was building in my throat. A few people turned to look at our table and smiled at us, and just as quickly turned their focus back to their own conversations. I had it coming to me. I wasn't angry at Zoe for raking me over the coals. On some cosmic level I probably deserved it for the way I dismissed her request so resolutely.
"That's not how it works, Zoe. If you were in the middle of a conversation and spilled a hot drink on your lap, would you continue the conversation and ignore your lap being burned? Have you ever stubbed your toe on a piece of furniture? Did that arouse you? Have you ever touched a bruise on your body and cringed in pain?" I smirked at the absurdity of the example. "Forgive me, Zoe. I interrupted you. Please continue this tale of utter bullshit."
"Whatever, Gil," she rolled her eyes at me. Dismissing everything I had just explained as bullshit. Zoe wiggled her ass in her chair and moaned softly, "Now, back to my Master. He's going to handcuff my wrists behind my back, make me kneel, and handcuff my ankles. Then, wrap his belt around my neck, and order me to suck his big cock." Zoe lowered her head and widened her eyes as she added, "I can't wait. He's going to lift my body off the ground with the belt while I suck him. It'll be just like all the women you've suspended, only better. Master is going to ram his massive cock down my throat, and blow his load straight into my belly. He explained that the belt around my neck will squeeze his cock while he fucks it down my throat, and bring him great pleasure. I just know that I am going to love every dark, nasty thing he does to me. Kinky huh? Bet you never thought of doing that?"
Zoe leaned back in her chair and fanned her face with both her hands. "Is it boiling hot in here, or is it just the thought of my Master?" The slight smirk on her face flipped a switch in me. Annoyance turned to anger.
Maybe, Zoe was telling the truth. Online conversations are harmless, pure fantasy, if they're not acted upon. Not only was what Zoe had explained impossible to perform, it had the potential to be fatal. No sane and experienced kinkster would attempt it.
"Your new play partner sounds astonishing. I might have heard songs about him sung around campfires. If I'm not mistaken, he also walks on water, and can talk to the animals. He's able to leap over tall buildings in a single bound, is faster than a speeding bullet, too. When is this incredulous, defying all we know to be true of human anatomy and physiology and the laws of physics, session going to occur, Zoe?" I asked. Each word that left my lips was laden with an unmistakable sarcasm. The lies that Zoe had spewed in an attempt to get a rise out of me deserved more than mere sarcasm, but, I bit my lip and bid my time.
Zoe sat back in her chair and glared with contempt at me. "Jealous?" she hissed.
There it was. One word uttered out loud in the heat of the moment brought Zoe's house of cards crashing down. Part of me was relieved. Another part of me wanted to tell her to fuck off, and another part of me wanted to bend her over the table, and fuck her till she felt her soul leaving her body.
"Not in the least, Zoe. It'll take more than your imaginary friend to make me jealous," I smirked as I lied to her. The feeling that was twisting my guts into double constrictor knots was jealousy. It felt foreign, new and old at the same time. The last time I remember being jealous had to have been in university. 'Fuck! Life is stranger than shit!' I thought to myself.
I placed my right elbow on the table and extended my hand towards Zoe. "Come closer, Zoe, please."
Zoe hesitated for a moment before placing one arm on the table and lining up her cheek to my hand. I slid my fingers to the back of her neck, and ran my thumb from her suprasternal notch up to her larynx. I gently pressed my thumb into the soft tissue of her throat. Zoe's reaction was immediate and predictable. She panicked and pulled away from my hand. She gasped and choked and coughed. Her eyes started to water and she felt as if she was going to throw up. Reactions all designed to clear the passage way to our lungs, to save us from choking.
"Why would you do that to me? You're a dick!" she hissed.
I grinned and replied, "You're a bigger dick, Zoe. Why are you wasting my time with this science fiction bullshit?" I didn't try to subdue the growl that rumbled in my throat. I wanted it resonate in her ears. I wanted it to deafen her. "Tell me how you could possibly even entertain the thought of having someone hang you? It's beyond stupid. Do you know why some countries still use hanging as capital punishment? Because it works, it does what it's supposed to do. Vampire Master? Biting and breaking your skin? Do you know how many diseases that puts you at risk for? Let alone the possible nerve damage and the loss of all feeling in you nipple.
Zoe casually reached for her glass and brought it to her lips, "He's not imaginary. I met him online. He's driving to Toronto, to spend this weekend with me. He says all rope guys are pussies. They don't know how to satisfy a woman, that's why they have to use rope. Real Masters use chains and whips, without leaving a single mark, no matter how hard they hit their slaves." She took a sip of wine, and licked her lips. "You had your chance, Gil. You made it crystal clear that you had no interest in providing me the experience I asked you for. I feel like a fool for begging, and throwing myself at you. My new Master makes me feel desirable, wanted, and sexy as all fuck. He's my king."
"He's a fucking clown. You can't put a crown on a clown and expect a king. You done, Zoe?" I sternly asked.
Zoe narrowed her eyes and hissed at me, "Master says you have a small cock, and are too old to get it up. That's why you refused to even attempt to fuck me."
My jaw clenched and relaxed as I stared Zoe down. "You fucking done now, Zoe?" I snarled.
She leaned across the table and mouthed, "Fuck you, asshole."
I had had enough of this little tart's rudeness, badgering and insults. I stood up and reached for my wallet, threw a wad of folded bills on the table and said goodnight to Zoe.
She huffed and ignored me.
When I got to my vehicle, I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. My phone vibrated against my hip. I reached into my jacket pocket and read a text that Zoe had sent. "I'm sorry. I wanted to hurt you, make you jealous, and angry."
My lips curled into a snarl. Zoe had been successful in achieving all three. I wasn't going to reply to her. I should have gotten in my car a driven off. I should have put Zoe out of my mind, forgotten about her. But I couldn't. I texted back that I was in the parking lot, and that I would drive her home if she needed a ride.
Zoe walked over to me and stood deathly still as she looked me in the eye. She tried to look past the expressionless gaze in my eyes. If she could figure out what I was feeling, she would know what to say next. I remained silent and took another drag of my cigarette.
Zoe became more anxious, her chest heaved heavily, as she tried to control her emotions and breathing. When she couldn't take the silence anymore, she spoke. "Kiss me, slap me, or yell at me, Gil. Anything, but please don't ignore me," she almost sobbed.
I opened my car's passenger door and motioned her to get in. "I'll drive you home, Zoe," I smiled.
Zoe exhaled in relief, "Sorry again, Gil. Thank you."
Before I closed the door, once Zoe was seated in my car, I chuckled, "Vampire Master? You have to tell me how you came up with all that crap."
Zoe laughed and looked up at me as she replied, "It was just one, very strange and disturbed guy online. He was a goldmine of bullshit, and creepy as all fuck. It was like a horrible accident, I couldn't help myself. I had to look at it."
It was a short drive to Zoe's condo. When I pulled up to its front doors, Zoe asked, "Come up for a coffee?"
I drove to the visitor's lot and parked my car, and followed Zoe as she made her way to her apartment on the top floor of the building.
I closed the door behind us, grabbed Zoe's arm and pulled her to me. "You didn't invite me up for coffee. Tell me why you invited in," I said to her as I slid my other hand to her ass and pulled her tighter against my body.
Zoe gasped and shivered against me as she replied, "I want to fuck you."
"Careful what you wish for, Zoe," I snarled and crushed her lips with my mouth.
Zoe moaned and wrapped her arms around my neck as she pressed her body tighter against mine. I lifted her off the ground in my arms; she wrapped her legs around me and moaned into my mouth, "Second door on the left." Letting me know where her bedroom was located.
I threw her onto her bed and began to remove my clothes. Zoe stared at me with hunger in her eyes as she wiggled out of her dress and panties. When I was naked, she slide higher on her bed and spread her legs wide. It was an urgent invitation to penetrate her.
The first penetration of a cock into a pussy with someone new, it's poetic and mind numbing.
I slid my cock achingly slow inside her. The sensation of her pussy being stretched and filled felt never-ending to her. Part of her didn't want the sensations to end, another part of her needed to feel every inch of my invading cock buried balls deep inside her. Till no more of me was left outside of her.
"Fuck!" Zoe groaned and whimpered in the same breath, when I bottomed out inside of her.
I ground my hips in slow, deliberate circles, stretching her insides, and at the same time crushing my pelvic bone against her swollen clit.
Zoe shivered at the feel of my balls squishing up against her asshole. Her juice seeped out of her and coated my balls and her puckered hole. The slick juice slathered between our flesh and allowed my balls to slide over her tight hole, effortlessly, without friction.
"Hard!" she moaned, "Fuck me hard!"
I grinned and pulled my cock out of her. Flipped her on to her belly and lifted her onto her knees.
"Keep your ass in the air, whore," I growled as I slapped each of her plump ass cheeks.
Zoe yelped at the stinging blows and nodded her head.
"Some parts of you are off camera, aren't they, whore?" I asked as I slid two fingers up to my knuckles into her drenched pussy. "Do you allow the men you fuck to take pictures of your dirty holes, whore?"
Zoe shook her head against the mattress and bucked her hips against my hand.
"It stands to reason then, that I don't have to be gentle on your asshole and cunt," I growled and shoved my thumb into her tight ass.
Zoe's body stiffened as my thumb slid into her backside. Her head flew off the mattress and she whimpered at the burning sensation in her ass.
"Whore," I snarled and removed my digits from inside her.
"No! Please, Gil. Put them back in, I'm begging you!" Zoe lamented at the sudden feeling of emptiness in both her hungry holes.
I grabbed her pussy with my right hand and squeezed it, tugged it, pinched it, and raked my fingers deep into the soft, wet folds. Zoe shivered and bucked as she gasped at the intense sensation between her legs. They were sensations that she had never experienced, Intense, frightening, and deeply satisfying.
"I'm close!" she gasped and brought her thighs closer together.
I shoved my left thumb back in her ass as I slapped her cunt. Zoe exploded; she drove her hips into the mattress and crossed her legs as her orgasm ripped through her. I kept my thumb in her backside and slapped her ass cheeks hard. Zoe tried to scream, but the convulsions of her body only allowed her to make a strained gurgling sound from deep in her throat.
When she stopped shaking, I turned her onto her back and positioned myself between her legs. Look at me, whore," I commanded.
Zoe rolled her head and kept her eyes shut as she nodded. I slapped her across the cheek, making sure my fingers were relaxed when they made contact. It doesn't take much force to shock someone with a slap across the face. Zoe opened her eyes wide and tried to focus on my face. She was still recovering from the orgasm; the added shock of being slapped across her face sent her mind awhirl, the perfect moment to impale her with my thick cock. I plowed into her pussy with one powerful thrust. Zoe screamed out and gripped the bed cover with both her hands and squeezed till her knuckles turned white.
I fucked my cock in and out of her pussy with a deliberate and punishing force. Zoe took a deep breath and wrapped her legs around my waist. I felt her pussy as it began to quiver and tighten its grip on my cock. I was close to exploding inside her beautiful and battered cunt. I pulled completely out of her and drove my cock inside her hard. My balls tightened and my cock twitched once. I pressed my hips into her as my cock spewed hot cum inside Zoe. She released the covers from her grip and wrapped her arms around my neck. "I'm coming again!" she screamed into my shoulder and shook hard and long.
I grunted and growled as I recovered from my orgasm. I rolled off Zoe. She rolled onto her side and draped her left arm and leg across my body.
"Mmm," she purred as she nestled her head on my chest.
"You are going to be very sore between your legs, Zoe," I snickered.
Zoe held me tighter and replied in a sleepy, content tone, "Don't care. So worth it."
