Threesome: Chapter 2

Threesome

Chapter 2: How do you do?

As we drove across the city, I wondered what her place would reveal about her. SM is an act, of course, but the one act that is necessary to reveal our real selves. Work, family, home, reveals as well, but is an act of altogether lesser value for the S&M player. Those are things we have and do, sometimes just to get along in a world that doesn’t want or accept our real selves. The S&Mer often finds pretending to be normal a strain. I certainly did. Assembling a normal job, a normal home, a normal family, this was all a great deal of work and a task I failed at from time to time.

On the other hand, there is never an excuse for a pigsty, sloppiness or dirt. Was she a person with so much character, so much will that she could make ordinary life work? Or was she someone more like me, so wounded by ordinary life that I did as little of it as possible. My suspicion was that she was more like the former than the latter. That’s why she was a Mistress and I a sub.

We drove into a middle-class residential area. Soon she turned into the driveway of a neatly arranged two-story house. I noticed a couple of good things for future play. There was a high, solid fence blocking view to the back, perhaps she liked outdoor play? There was a basement, the only real location for a dungeon. The house was not huge, but moderate. Even in the dark I could see it was well kept.

One of the two garage doors was opening and she drove inside. She’d told me to park behind her and off the street. I did so, got out and walked into the garage where she stood waiting by the front of her car. There was a car in the other garage, so there was likely another person here. I hoped it was a woman, but I didn’t know.

As I approached her, she began, “Despite the fact that you’re the one who’s going to be tied and naked…”

“… it is you that are vulnerable since it’s your house. I’ve always thought that made for a nice symmetry.”

“Still,” she went on, “I don’t want to break the mood, but…” and this time she stopped, looking at me.

“There are some things we need to talk about. It should make the play more intense.”

“We each get three questions, as deep and personal as we like. No question is offensive. The answers are to be utter truth, and be the full truth, not the legal minimum.”

I nodded my assent. “As Mistress, you should, of course, go first.”

“What have you shown me that isn’t who you really are?”

I was both taken aback and greatly pleased. She’d thought about this question. She complimented me by not adding a whole series of qualifiers to this. I was being tested. I thought about my answer carefully before I began.

“I’ve shown you who I want to be, my best self as it related to submission. I’m not always that person. Life beats on me, the lack of courtesy, the absence of commitment to something large all wear me down and sometimes I’m defeated by it and I fall back into bad habits that are slowly self destructive, like eating, time wasting. Living without sex, real sex deadens me and I’m not that successful at finding what I need. But, I am a professional. I am for real about being a submissive, how I approached you at the club was truth. I am not a cop, I don’t stalk people, I respect confidences.”

I stopped, not wanting to babble, but wondering what I’d left out.

She said, “We’ll take turns on the questions.”

What would my three be? She’d obviously thought about her questions. “Would you tell me about the other person who lives here?” My question was also a bit of a test. A person who was clever but not smart would answer by saying “Yes,” and then laughing at me. That is cheap and isn’t listening to the tone of politeness I put into my question. Someone who played that game, well, I would have had to turn and walk away from the evening.

“She is a woman, she’s a submissive to me, a switch to the men I dom. You’ll like her, I’m quite confident,” she concluded with a smirk, conveying that it wasn’t principally her intellectual companionship I’d find attractive. I noticed how compact her answers were, but also how revealing: a switch to the men I dom. In other words, I’d be playing with her tonight, we’d be doing a threesome, a long standing fantasy of mine.

She posed her second question. “What are you most afraid of right now?”

“That you won’t be able to sustain the what you’ve shown me so far. That I won’t live up to what we’ve put down so far.”

She nodded. “And your second question. Take your time.”

I should honor her permission and not blurt out anything. I could ask her question back to her, but I doubt she was afraid of very much. I could ask about details, but that wasn’t the tone here. The truth is that there was nothing I wanted to ask. But these were to be honest questions, deep, risking offending even.

So I said: “The subs who disliked you, what did they say about you and why?”

She threw her head back and laughed. Her eyes were alight and she smiled as she replied. “They were dishonest about their own needs, and so they said I couldn’t understand them. They tried to control things and said I was a bitch.” She paused, and got serious. “They failed to tell me what they were feeling during the scene, failed to tell me medical issues, failed to use their safe words when needed and so,” she paused, “they went home disappointed after a mediocre session.”

I looked at her, very, very impressed with her answers. I hope I was living up to her standards.

She cocked her head and looked at me for a beat. “My third question,” she said. “What am I assuming that will turn out not to be true?” Now that was a tricky one. I did let things get ahead of themselves, anticipating more than I should. But this session had a magic about it already, one that by calling attention to it or questioning it, would kill it

So I said, “I believe that it is possible that the answer to that is nothing.” I was going to add a second line, but just stopped.

“My third question.” I paused. “I would like to reserve my third question until the first break time after our first session.”

She smiled again and I could tell she was pleased with how I had handled this. “That could be a long time.” She turned and punched the garage door button and the door came down behind me. When it had nearly descended to the floor she said. “Remove your clothes and place them on that table over there. Then come back here and turn around with your hands behind your back.”

For the second time tonight I undressed, carefully, aware of the ritual beginnings to this scene. Finishing, I walked, naked, back to her, stopped a couple of steps away and turned around, clasping my hands behind my back.

She had been holding something in her hand and it turned out to be a soft leather helmet. She pulled it down over my head and it blocked out my vision. It was a partial helmet, covering down to my nose and going to straps that went around my chin, leaving my mouth and nose uncovered. She snugged it down the back and I could feel laces being cinched up. The helmet was securely tied on and blocked out all sight. It was soft and flexible, very, very expensive. It was also carefully designed to be able to be worn for a long time.

She walked over to the wall and came back with something. I felt a leather cuff going around one wrist and then the other, securing my hands behind my back. Next some leg cuffs went on my ankles linked by a short leather strap. I could stand with my feet a normal distance apart but no further. Elbow cuffs were next and then a collar. One more strap went from the collar to the elbow cuffs and then to my wrists. Another went from my wrists down to my ankles.

She came around in front of me and I felt a leash being clipped to the neck collar. A little tug and I started following her. She must have led me around the garage once or twice because we certainly didn’t go in the house. Despite knowing what the place had looked like, I soon lost track of where I was headed, and that was the point of course.

We are all led around by the nose in life, we think we know what is going on, but seldom do. Thus, the great psychic power of a situation where you know nothing and are being totally led by someone you have to trust and you know you can trust. Bondage is relaxing, few understand.

Eventually, we came to the entrance and she warned me about two steps up and I navigated them and we went into a hallway or room. She put a hand on my chest and told me not to move while she went back and locked the door. Returning she said, “That door is locked against you leaving as well as locked against anyone coming in. Your clothes are on the other side and you can’t get to them without pleasing me.”

With that, she grabbed the leash and we went off into the house. She pulled me this way and that, we turned to the left and then the right, turned around, then back to the right. I slowly surrendered more and more to the mystery, allowing it to happen, experiencing it moment by moment.

Eventually we were back on carpet. She grabbed my arms at my sides. “Kneel down, I’ve got you.”

I sank to the floor, assisted by her considerable strength that kept me from just falling. I heard her sit down on something in front of me, a couch by the soft sound of it.

The leash tugged me forward. “Start exploring,” I heard.

I bent down and over, and encountered a leg. It’s hard to stay kneeling that way, and I just gave up and went flat on my stomach, found the foot and began kissing it.

“Stop.” I did. One foot went on one side of my head, the other on the other and she began rubbing me, using her feet to push my head from side to side, to rub on my helmet, to push on my shoulders.

“So let’s review this situation. Your naked, you have no clothes, you can’t see, you can’t take off the helmet to see. You don’t know if I’m for real….”

I know slaves shouldn’t talk but this was the first false thing she’d said. “Yes I do know you are for real.”

“I should punish you for that, but truth has its own virtue. In any case, you are totally vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable to having something great happen, thank god.”

She put her boot on top of my head. “Oh my, you do like to fly close to the edge, don’t you? You’re either very rude or you know that I am not the least bit insecure.” She paused, I said nothing. Asserting I was not rude would be rude. “If I get a fourth question, I’ll ask you what the mistresses who didn’t like you said, I bet I know, I just bet I know.”

Again, I felt that upwelling of emotion that would lead to real tears, deep and heartfelt. God, there were so many phonies in this scene. I felt I was good, felt I was worth something to have as a sub, why could I never find a Dom who would see that?

I suddenly became aware in that mysterious way humans can, that there was a third person in the room. At that moment, Mistress got up and went around behind me. She helped me to my feet and stood close behind me, steadying me against the dizziness and disorientation anyone would feel blindfolded and uncertain of their circumstances.

She had me walk forward right up to the couch. She told me to kneel up on the cushions and I pushed forward, placing a knee on the sofa, and then the other. The cushions are soft and I think I would have fallen over to one side if she hadn’t steadied me. What was this all about? She had me turn to my right. I’d be looking down the length of the couch if I could see.

She pushed me forward and then caught me and I slowly fell forward, going down, going to land on my face. In one instant I felt the warmth and sent of a woman and in the next, her body along mine and the next, a nipple in my mouth. The third woman, who I could tell was round and buxom had been lying on her back on the couch and I was now lying on top of her, with my mouth on one of her breasts and my cock on the couch between her thighs.

I’d just met the third person in this little scene.

[ On to chapter 3 ]