by Robin Roseau
"And now?"
"I don't know."
"All right," I said. This time it was my turn to say those two words slowly. "Why not? Don't you want me?"
"I do." Her voice cracked again. "I definitely want you. But you might not want me."
"We've talked about that," I said. "So it's not you that you're worried about. It's what you want me to do that has you concerned. Am I right?"
"Yes." The word was a whisper.
"Maybe you should just tell me."
"I can't."
"You can't." I stared at her for a moment then nodded, rotating on the sofa so I was sitting sideways, my knees drawn up and my toes just hanging off the edge of the cushions. I leaned to my right slightly, propping my head in my hand, my elbow resting on the back of the sofa. "Well. Let's address the elephant again. There seems to be more than one. We're talking about sex, aren't we. Kinky sex."
"Yes." That was another whisper.
"All right. Let's see if we can eliminate some basic categories. Are guys involved?"
She looked at me in shock. "No."
I smiled. "Good. Because that's a deal killer. Public humiliation?"
"What?" she asked. "No."
"Good. I'm not an exhibitionist. Were you hoping to invite some friends over and have me perform for them?"
"Where are you getting these things?" she asked. "Of course not."
"Let's go back to the first elephant. If it turns out I don't run away when I learn about these kinky things you want us to do, would you want an exclusive arrangement, or something a little less formal?"
She blinked a few times, and then she said, "Exclusive. I don't share."
I smiled. "And you heard what I said earlier?"
"Yes."
"About taking care of me?"
"Yes," she said, this time more firmly.
"Taking care of me is about more than money," I said. "It's about caring for me as a person. It's about being there for me when I need advice or a good cry. How do you feel about that?"
Emotions flickered over her face. I couldn't read them and couldn't have said this one was pleasure or that one was fear. But then she smiled. "I'd take care of you," she said, and it was perhaps the firmest statement she'd made all evening.
"Good," I said. "Perhaps we should start slowly. Given that we're not having sex tonight, what do you want to do?"
"I-" The indecision was back, which was frustrating. But then something changed. Her expression became more confident. She looked me up and down, and then she asked, "Are you ticklish?"
I laughed. "Oh, yes," I said. "You want to tickle me."
"Yes," she said. "I do."
"So, do I just hand you my feet?" I asked. "Maybe you want to pin me to the sofa." I smiled. "Or maybe you wanted to tie me up so I couldn't get away. Could I trust you?"
More expressions flickered across her face, and these I could readily read.
Hunger.
"I have a piece of furniture," she said. The words were quiet, and I could barely hear her. I had to run the sounds through my head twice before I understood.
"Where is it?"
"Downstairs. There's a room."
I didn't wait. I climbed to my feet. "Really?" I stepped past her. "I want to see it."
And then I proceeded to do something quite rude. I didn't realize I was being rude when I did it. I thought I was being playful. But it really was quite rude, and it's almost a miracle it turned out as well as it did.
I ignored her protests.
"No."
I ignored that, and I left her behind as I went looking for the stairs into the basement.
"Where's the door?" I asked.
"Astrid! No!"
Finding the stairs wasn't that hard. The obvious place was underneath the stairs to the second floor, and those were easy to find. So it only took a few seconds before I found the door to the basement. I opened it.
"Astrid!"
I ignored that, too. I did say I was unforgivably rude.
"Here we go," I said happily. I headed down the stairs, ignoring another cry of, "Astrid! No!" from somewhere behind me.
I made it into the basement before she reached the top of the stairs, chasing after me. I flipped on a switch.
It was some sort of family room. I didn't think it got used much. But there were two doors. I opened the first just as Cassidy burst into the room. I opened the door and found a storage room.
"Astrid! That's enough."
I closed the door, turned to her, and smiled. "I want to see," I said.
The other door was at the opposite end of the room. I headed that way. Cassidy tried to grab me, but I danced away from her and then ran to the door. I flung it open, my hand automatically searching for the wall switch. I hit the switch just as Cassidy arrived, throwing her arms around me.
We both froze as the room contents were clearly illuminated. I stared for a moment then shook Cassidy off. Behind me she stood, perhaps a little shocked, and not entirely by my audacity.
I took two steps forward, deeper into the room, and then did a slow circle and a half, coming to a stop facing Cassidy. I didn't know what everything was that I could see, but I knew one thing.
"Cassidy," I said gently. "You want to do a lot more than tickle me."
The Room
"You weren't supposed to see," she said in a tone of disbelief. "Astrid, you weren't supposed to see. No one was supposed to see."
I did another slow turn, again stopping to face her.
"How many other women have you had in this room?"
"None."
I raised an eyebrow, and then for punctuation, set my hand on my hip.
"I mean it. No one. It's all new."
I turned around and walked away from her, all the way to the far end. I came to a stop in front of a piece of furniture -- is that even the right word -- mounted against the wall. It was two large planks of wood set in an X-shape and inclined slightly against the wall. I stared at it for a while. Then I took several steps to the right. Here was a large piece of peg board with various hooks and holders sticking from the board. Hanging down were a variety of, well, let's just call them what they were.
Adult toys.
I didn't say anything. But I did a slow circle of the room. Along the right wall was storage: a large, floor to ceiling cupboard and beside it, a series of drawers. I was impressed by the quality. I didn't open it.
There was a variety of furniture. I didn't know for sure how all of them were used, but I had a general idea.
And in a few places, there were chains hanging from the ceiling. I stared at a few.
I finally came to a stop in front of Cassidy. She was watching me carefully.
"I'm sorry," I said. "There's little excuse for my behavior. I shouldn't have invaded your privacy. I was feeling playful."
She looked into my eyes and nodded, although she still didn't say anything.
"You said you had a piece of furniture you'd use to tickle me. Which one?"
"I suppose any of them," she said. But she pointed. "That was the one I meant, though."
I followed the gesture then walked to the article in question. It was metal with cushions. I walked all the way around it, but I didn't understand.
"How does it work?"
Cassidy stepped over. She did something, and a portion of the, well, I wasn't sure what to call it. The tickle bench. Yes. A portion of the tickle bench rotated away. She moved into position and said, "You lay on your stomach here." She leaned forward for a moment but then quickly moved away again. "I lock your wrists there." She pointed. "And then I swing this back, and I can lock your ankles in the air behind your butt."
"With the bottoms of my feet pointed up."
"Yes," she said. "That's enough to hold you, but if you're particularly energetic, I can add a few more straps."
"I don't believe you have all this and never used it."
“Um.”
At her far-from-eloquent response, I lifted an
eyebrow and set my hand on my hip. "You did all this-" and I gestured. "Because you expected to bring a sugar baby down here."
She didn't say anything. She simply dropped her eyes. But then she asked, "Are you going to tell anyone?"
"I'm not going to blab your secrets, if that's what you're afraid of," I told her. "First, I signed contracts promising I wouldn't. But I still wouldn't. I'm probably obligated to tell my contact at Gentle Affection. I don't know."
She nodded, still not looking at me. I stepped away and prowled around the room, looking at everything. I ran my hands along some of the equipment. I picked up a few things from the pegboard wall, held each for a moment or two, then carefully put them back. When I glanced over at her, Cassidy was watching me, but I couldn't judge her expression.
I moved on, coming to the cabinets. I put my hand on a handle, but she didn't stop me. I opened a drawer then pulled out a piece of silk and fur. It took me a moment to realize it was a blindfold. I put it back and poked through the rest of the drawer. They were all blindfolds.
"Why so many?"
"They're different," she said.
"I see that. But a blindfold is a blindfold."
"Some are more intimidating," she said. "Some work better. Some can be worn longer. Some are impossible for you to remove."
"Oh." I closed the drawer then decided I didn't want to open any others.
I finished my circle, coming back to the tickle bench. I looked at it for a while.
"I'm having a hard time believing you put this room together like this."
"Why?"
"This seems like the sort of thing someone builds slowly." I looked over at her. "You seem to know quite a lot about blindfolds you haven't used. Although you didn't say you hadn't used them. You only said you hadn't used this room, and I presume some of the furniture."
She was having a hard time meeting my gaze. “I have fantasies,” she finally admitted.
“So I gathered.”
“This room is a little like the lottery.”
“Oh, this explanation is going to be interesting.”
“When you buy a lottery ticket, do you know what you’re buying more than a chance to win the money?”
“A chance to pay more taxes?”
“Well, yes, but I was thinking of something else.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She finally looked into my eyes. “When you buy a lottery ticket, you are buying the chance to think about what you’ll do if you win.”
I turned away and looked around the room. “This is a little more than a lottery ticket.”
“I know,” she said, barely audibly.
I got it, although I couldn’t envision spending the kind of money this room must have cost. “Do I represent lottery winnings, Cassidy?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
I paused, thinking, then I stepped sideways and came to a stop looking up into her eyes. "You have a choice. You can drive me home. I may have to tell Gentle Affection about this. I have to read the agreements I signed. But I think if you invite any other sugar babies to date, Gentle Affection needs to know about this."
She didn't say anything.
"Or,” I added.
"Or?"
"Or you can agree to answer my questions, honestly and completely."
"I'll drive you home, Astrid."
"You don't even know what I'm going to ask."
She stared into my eyes.
"In fact," I added. "You don't even have to answer. But if you do answer, you promise to be honest."
"And then what? I tell you the rest of my secrets, and then what?"
"And then I'm still standing here," I said. "Maybe I'll still leave. I don't know. But maybe I won't. But if you don't promise honest answers, I promise I'm leaving."
"What's your first question?" she asked after only a moment's pause.
"How did you know how to set up this room?"
I didn't think she was going to answer. She studied my face for a long time: a minute, maybe even two. I simply waited. But finally she said, "Starting when I was about 25, I spent a good share of time in a room like this."
"In my position?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Years," she said. "Six years." She shook her head. "I was so stupid."
"Did she hurt you?" I asked. "It was a her, wasn't it?"
"Yes. It was a woman, a little older than I am now. She promised to help me with my career. She wined and dined me. And she did help, just a little. And then she brought me to a room like this and told me what she wanted."
"You stayed."
"I ran. It was a different time. She showed me the room, and I didn't know what anything was. I had no idea. But once I did, I ran."
"You went back."
“Yes.”
"Something changed."
"I didn't work for her, not directly. But we worked for the same firm. She invited me into her office the next afternoon. She was quite gentle, actually. She told me she understood my shock. She told me I was under no obligation, although she offered just enough of a hint to know what would happen to my career if I tattled on her."
"And?"
"I started to cry. She held me. It felt nice. Soon, we were kissing."
I nodded. "You said you were stupid. What happened?"
"I fell in love."
"It lasted six years. Did she help you?"
"Yes. Oh, I'm very good at what I do, and I was good back then. I didn't get a free ride. But she offered guidance. She helped me make the right choices. It mattered."
I nodded. "You're trying to come full circle. Why?"
"I don't know."
"I think you do," I said, "But I choose to believe perhaps you're still figuring a few things out."
She lowered her eyes again. "You might be right."
"Tell me, Cassidy. Do you keep your promises?"
"Yes, as best I am able."
I turned away and slowly walked around the room, but I knew my destination when I turned. I came to a stop at the tickle bench. "Do you want to see me lying on this?"
Her eyes snapped up, and I had my answer long before she spoke the word. "Yes." The hunger was evident.
"There are rules," I said. "I have a friend. She knows whom I am with and is my safety net. She is very discrete." I paused. "I wouldn't have signed up with Gentle Affection without her. She's the one who took the photos you saw, and she helped me with my profile. Do you understand?" Cassidy nodded. "The papers I signed forbid me from sharing your secrets without your permission. If I let you lock me into this thing, then I want permission to tell her about this. I'm going to need someone to talk to."
"I won't hurt you."
"Yes or no? If it's no, you can drive me home. Or, I suppose, pay for my Uber."
"Yes," she said.
"Next. At least tonight, you'll only do what we agree. Yes or no?"
"Yes."
"Tickling. That's it."
She bit her lip. I sighed. "You want more."
"Will you let me stroke you?"
"Like, a caress?"
"Yes," she said. "I won't always use my hand. But yes."
"All right. But nothing that hurts, not even a little."
"Agreed."
"How long?"
"What?"
"Once I let you lock me into this, I can't get out until you let me out. I'm pretty sure once you start tickling, you're not going to stop just because I scream for you to stop. No one stops tickling because the person being tickled says to stop. So I want to know how long."
"An hour."
"No way," I said. "Fifteen minutes." I looked down at the device then back up at her. "You may tickle or touch as we discussed. If I tell you not to do something, you won't keep doing it. You may end this any time you want, or at the end of 15 minutes, you can ask for another 15 minutes. Repeat until I tell you I'm done."
She nodded. "All right."
I studied
her carefully. She returned my gaze, and the hunger was evident, but she continued to bite her lip, which I thought was cute.
"You should know," I said. "People know I'm with you. You understand that, right?"
"Right. I'm not going to hurt you, Astrid."
Maybe it was about the most stupid thing I could possibly have done, but I nodded. "I assume you want me to remove my shoes. What else?"
She'd retreated to the doorway after showing me the tickle bench, but now she stepped forward, coming to a stop on the other side from me. She said one word. "Naked." I stared at her, and she added a second word. "Please."
"We're not having sex. You will not touch me in a fashion that feels like sex, or a prelude to sex."
"Agreed."
I shook my head, but I slowly lifted one foot, setting it on the edge of the bench. I leaned over and, without taking my eyes from hers, I undid the buckle and removed the shoe. I set it on the bench and then did the other. I collected the shoes, looked around, and then moved to one of the other pieces of furniture. I set the shoes down near it. Then, with my back to Cassidy, I began to undress, carefully setting each article of clothing aside.
Finally I stood, naked, my back towards her. Cassidy hadn't made a sound the entire time I did it. Finally, slowly, I turned around to face her.
She'd been watching me. Of course she had. I'd have watched her, after all. She licked her lips while staring at me.
I didn't ask if she liked what she saw. That was evident from her expression. And so I simply crossed the room to her. I let her get a good look, and then I stepped into place and lay down across the tickle bench.
It was an odd shape. It was almost exactly the right height for me to bend at the waist and lay my upper body across the top. The area under my hips was widest, although barely wide enough to fully support me. But the padded area was teardrop shaped, after a fashion, the tip ending just before my belly button. The structure itself was steel, but the padding separated me from the basic structure by several inches, so there was open air below my belly, and there wasn't more padding until the middle of my chest. From that point, it flared outwards again, supporting my shoulders completely. I turned my head sideways to lay down, my hands on the same padding.
Cassidy paused but then moved to stand at my head. She collected my right wrist and pulled it further up, just slightly past my ear. A moment later, she flipped something up and over, locking my wrist in a sort of one-wrist stocks. A moment later, she handled my left wrist the same way. She was kind, moving carefully, but once she'd locked them, I knew I was stuck.