A Trip to the Mall--or, the Pervertible Gift Guide

So maybe it's just me, but after a day trip to the IKEA and the giant mall adjoining, I've realized that I now see things through different eyes. Or at least on different levels. On one level, I was a girl looking for Christmas presents. On the other, everything I saw looked like something useful for a scene.

Maybe I'm jumping the gun here, but the Swedish Modern wicker lounge chairs? So easy to tie someone to, and the angle is perfect for that semi-sitting sex with the girl on top. All IKEA furniture is kind of like this: it's sturdy yet portable, and each piece has a cutout, or a nook, or a post, that would be perfect for stringing or tying. If that's not badass enough, downstairs in the random stuff section, they have all kinds of ropes and springy nylon cords.

In the kitchen section, they have these things that I think are whisks, but the handles are plastic and the whisk wires are made out of rubber and all lie along one flat plane. When my friend and shopping companion turned around, I did an experimental slap on the inside of my forearm and left a pretty impressive stinging red mark that vanished a few minutes later. Nice. And that's not even mentioning the strings of pinching clothespins in the home office section: perfect for organization, or possibly torture.



Lots of the other knickknacks I couldn't put a purpose to, but I had the feeling that in exactly the right scene they'd be perfect. Examples: these cute little potato peelers and bottle openers with sleek laquered handles; some tiny desk lamps with super-long, super flexible necks; and of course, the charming ceiling-hung inflatable chair/nest/pod in the children's section.

After eating some Swedish meatballs and buying a few tchotchkes, my companion and I went to the mall. After some unsuccessful clothes-shopping, we wandered into the Spencer's, mostly because I'd never been in one. I was kind of in awe: there were lots of strobe lights and black t-shirts, like a Hot Topic only with more sex. I headed straight to the back, figuring that was where they'd keep the good stuff, the kinky stuff.

It was, and the stuff was okay, I suppose. I've been spoiled by the sex shop in my Big City, so the little poorly-lit corner looked kind of bland. There were a few things I coveted: the under-the-bed bondage system, for example, which is cheaper there than I've seen online. But the floggers, the restraints, the goofy plastic handcuffs--it was all lacking something. Bright colors, maybe, or minimalist Swedish craftsmanship, or cute names like LÄROSTOL. Or a reasonable price of $3.99.

My First Successful Scene, Part I: or, in praise of duct tape

Last night my boyfriend Tim came over, and I tied him up and raped him.

Well, sort of.

First we cuddled, and then we ate some pasta and some tuna salad, and cuddled a little more--no sense in rushing things--and then at about seven-thirty, we started trying to tie him up.

This turns out to be way harder than it sounds, and it pretty much required Tim's full participation plus suggestions. This is at least partially because our bondage materials consisted of the following:

-Two belts with regularly spaced holes along the entire length (I highly recommend these; apparently they come from Wal Mart);
-One regular ol' belt;
-One hand-knit bondage rope (very good for restraining small people, such as me;
-An old TV cable; and
-Lots and lots of duct tape.

Using all of these materials, I eventually managed to bind Tim's hands to his legs and get his legs tied together. He thought he might still be able to get out, so he suggested I string the TV cable under the mattress and tie it across his body. So of course I had to get him out of his restraints so he could get off the mattress. But once we got the cable across him, we were, as they say, in business.

"You ready?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Hey," he said. "I'm gonna use the safeword if I need you to stop, okay? If I beg you to stop...that's good."

I nodded. And then I blindfolded him.

The first thing I did as soon as the blindfold was on was to take off my shoes. I kicked them off as quietly as I could (giant stilettos are sexy but useless) and then I started pondering.

I didn't come up with a plan before I started, and I'd been nervous about that, but it's amazing how easily that dissipated when I was faced with a naked man to play with. I started by not touching him at all, just walking around the bed looking at him from different angles. I leaned down so that my hair trailed over him and blew a little air over his skin. He flinched. Beautiful.

I grabbed my hairbrush off the bed beside him and trailed the bristles down his body, and then slid it around and slapped the exposed underside of his thigh. He pushed both legs flat against the bed and whimpered a little.

I crawled up onto the bed beside him and lifted the corner of the blindfold to whisper in his ear. Just one word. "Hello." I said it softly, cheerfully, maybe with a hint of seduction.

"Who are you?" he asked, a tremor in his voice.

I lifted his blindfold.

"No one you know," I said.

And then I slapped him hard across the face.

Face-slapping is usually off-limits for him, but he said it was okay in this scene, and I went to town. It's something I love, that and hair-pulling, and since I was in charge, I took full advantage. At one point I was stroking his cock with one hand and raking red marks across his chest with the fingernails of the other, and I thought I saw him smile.

"Are you LAUGHING at me?" I asked. He shook his head. I backhanded him anyway, hard enough that his cheek went red. He shuddered from head to toe and began to whimper.

"Please," he said softly. "Please stop."

I didn't.

[To be continued...]