What Became of Me

Petra [09:25am] Hello Lulu, I’m a 41-year-old lesbian dominant. I just adopted a mutual friend, Julia, as a bondage plaything. She gave me your contacts and pointed me to your blog. I could do with a second toy. Do you want to join in?

When in denial I tend to make rash decisions. Especially after my every morning edging session. My greedy cunt screamed “I’m in! Let’s go!” and clenched violently. I missed the feeling of being helpless. But not so much that I would forget to be careful.

Lulu [11:46am] Hi Julia! I’ve got a message from a Petra, telling me you’re her bondage plaything now? How exciting! She asks me whether I’d like to join. Maybe we can meet, and you tell me about her and your experience so far? In any case, we haven’t talked in a while. I’d like to catch up soon!

Patience isn't my strong point. I checked my messages every five minutes for the next few hours.

Julia [06:47pm] Hi Lulu, nice reading from you. No, we can’t meet. You must talk to Petra, not to me. To her, not about her. All you need to know is that she is phenomenal and trustworthy. I’m with her for two months now. I would surely enjoy struggling in tight bondage next to you. We'll talk once you’ve made up your mind. hugs

They aren’t exactly forthcoming with information. That should have made me suspicious. But Julia is one of my best friends. Even though we don’t see each other often, she’s one of the few people who knows what I’m into. And vice versa. She’s the one I can talk to about anything and the one I trust the most. Her opinion matters.

Lulu [08:12pm] Hello Petra! Thank you for your message. I’m intrigued, but as you can probably imagine I have a lot of questions. Can we have a chat and talk about your proposal?

I didn’t sleep much that night. I stayed awake even longer than usual on Friday, and the thought of becoming a “bondage plaything” made my edging session even hotter. It wasn’t until dawn that I finally fell asleep, exhausted and overstimulated.

Petra [06:54am] Hello Lulu, meet me at the “Kleines Cafe” in the Linzer Straße at 9am.

That was in just over two hours! And getting to the Fourteenth District would take a while, too. And a face-to-face meeting right away? But not much could happen in public, could it? I hopped in the shower.

The message had two attachments. The first was a portrait photo of Petra. Almost like a passport photo. A pretty face, but not in the traditional sense. The contours were sharp, just as I imagined a somewhat haggard school principal to look. Blonde hair, pulled back into a ponytail. Carefully made up but not overdone. Wrinkles under her eyes. Either she was wearing an off-the-shoulder top when the photo was taken, or she was naked. My stupid cunt clenched tightly. 

The second photo showed a restraint set on a rough wooden floor: a neck collar, wrist cuffs, and leg irons. Heavy chains, all linked together and secured to the floor with a ring. My stupid cunt was getting me so turned on I was about to explode. I had to run to catch the tram to the Fourteenth District.