What Became of Me

The address Petra had given me was a bit out of the way, in the Twelfth District. On the tram, I had a chance to get excited but also to think the whole thing over again. Should I really go along with Petra’s offer? More than once, I was on the verge of getting off. On the one hand, I wondered what the proposed triangle between Petra, Julia, and me would mean for my friendship with Julia. I’d sent her a message saying I’d be visiting Petra today, but had only received the terse reply: “Great.” Was it possible that Julia was jealous? Would we be able to look each other in the eye honestly after our deepest, most submissive desires were not only discussed but lived out together? And finally, I still didn’t know what I was getting myself into. The fact that Petra didn’t want to talk about it seemed unreasonable. And yet there was a suspicion that this might be exactly right for me: not talking things to death and overanalysing them.

From the tram stop, the road led uphill. The row of rental houses gradually gave way to spacious lots with well-tended gardens and wide driveways, bordered by walls or hedges. The houses themselves were barely visible from the street. Whoever lived here was obviously wealthy but placed more value on privacy than on flaunting their wealth. Petra's house was also facing away from the street. The walk to the front door through the meticulously manicured front yard seemed to take forever. I was a few minutes early when I rang the doorbell.

“Don’t say a word! Follow me!”

Given my past experiences, I probably shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was. Quite perplexed, I followed Petra as she led me down the hallway and up a flight of stairs to the upper floor. Despite my confusion, I found myself staring at her shapely behind in a short, form-fitting skirt that accentuated her curves, and at her slender legs, which were right in my line of sight. We entered a large, bright living room, furnished in a functional style but not uninviting. My gaze lingered on the heavy metal cage standing between two armchairs on the left.

Petra pointed to the floor, about two meters away from a coffee table with a wide sofa behind it.

“Stand there, facing the picture on the wall!”

The picture was a small charcoal drawing, a stylized house with smoke billowing from the chimney. Not what I would have chosen for such a wide wall. I stood uncertainly in the spot she had indicated, while Petra waited with her arms crossed to the right of the table and looked at me searchingly.

“Let me explain what’s going on,” Petra finally began, while I stood there in my warm jacket, feeling awkward and at a loss as to what to do. “I’ve lost my favourite doll. My favourite bondage toy, which I’ve carefully outfitted and trained over the years. The loss hurts.”

Petra paused, as if she wanted to see how those words affected me before continuing. Now I had even more questions than before, but I kept quiet and tried not to look too dumb.

“But now I’ve got a new bondage doll. Well, two bondage dolls to be precise, but let us talk about you for now. You’re still kind of in the package, so to speak. You look cute through the transparent window in the box. But I don't know exactly what to do with you or what games I can play with you yet. Figuring that out is the whole point of our first few meetings, understood?”

I nodded sheepishly. This apparently wasn’t about getting to know each other, but simply about assessing my “value as a plaything.” My perspective on things seemed completely irrelevant. This was a test whose criteria I didn’t know. But at least I now knew that coming here had been the right decision. Something told me I needed to pass this test, even if – or maybe because – I didn’t know what doors it would open.