” “Don’t worry!” “I do worry, though. I don’t have the £10,000 fine.” “Me neither. The night is long. Just stay a little longer! I got it under control. Trust me!” I wanted to trust Amelia. It was just too cozy with her next to me, her arm wrapped around me, her hand on my belly, one finger lingering on the top of my bare bellybutton. As if this was some kind of symbol of her claiming her possession. I wanted to be claimed by her. And so I trusted her and we both slipped into a satisfying sleep in each other’s arms. I don’t remember what woke me, but the first thing I noticed was her body pressed against mine. Me being the little spoon, wrapped in her body, her hand holding mine. Her breath slowly and regularly washing against my neck like the waves rolling on the shore. She didn’t leave me much room to move, and so I enjoyed the regularity of her sleeping breathing, and I almost drifted off again. But I must have woken her, because first her hand came to life. It slipped out of. If it can be thought, then why not experience it, even if it is to say; “that is not for me.” We have but the one life, no rehearsal, so why deny ourselves the experience?Time is usually the governing factor, but when it is not a major contributor of boundaries and nothing else is there to prevent total immersion, anything can, and often does happen. On those occasions, we may start out with a role playing fantasy only to finish in another place entirely; a place bourn on the winds of spontaneity and imagination. I was to be the subservient one. This is a rarity because I prefer to be in control under normal circumstances. Jenni had bound my wrists and tied them to the struts of the bedstead. My feet were bound together up to my knees with cling film. (Try it, especially around a woman’s body with her breasts thrust upward). I had been lightly whipped with a tassel on a silken rope. It becomes unbearable for me after only a short while. This time though, Jenni had her own agenda to.
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