When we last visited this subject, me and my dominant friend had established a date, location and agenda for an evening of four-headed playtime. The week leading up to the impending evening, i asked my girl every morning if she was excited, and every morning i heard the same response:
"Well, yes, i'm just uncertain what to expect."
You see, i'd done two things in informing her of her role for the evening. The first being i'd kept her in complete darkness about the details or even the genre of our foursome. The second being i'd purposely misled her by dropping hints and non-sequiturs about my fixation on immobilized barmaids, and how i'd love to have a party with her put in that speechless role. I recognize that even to the most dedicated exhibitionist (which is a category my girl reluctantly would find herself placed), serving a party of friends and acquaintances as an armless, walking drink cart would cause some anxiety due to the pure, emphatic nature of the objectification. This is why i fully expected and anticipated the nerves my girl exhibited in the days prior our encounter with K and his girl. After all, some of those were my creation, so i shouldn't be shocked if my attempt to psych her out actually proved fruitful.
Meanwhile, behind the scenes, i'd arranged to have six lengths of 6mm jute rope at 7 meters long, and six lengths of 6 mm at 8 meters long hand made, treated and delivered in time for our rendez-vous. K had set me up with a rope supplier he often used in a pinch (K himself likes to select and treat his own rope. A process i myself have dabbled in, but have found that i don't have the time to give it the necessary attention) who was located in the Netherlands. I put in my order, and when i told the polite Dutch gentleman that i was a friend of K's, he responded:
"K knows and can tie a woman very well. I hope you'll learn a lot from him."
I knew i was walking into uncharted territory, but being reminded by others of K's reputation in the rope world (yes, i can say world at this point), it put me at a little unease. I won't say the word "intimidation", but i will say i was stepping a little out of my comfort zone (to which K would say "why on earth would you do anything that didn't have you stepping out of your comfort zone?"). I'm responsible for my girl, especially when i bring her into a situation of my own design, where she has zero input, which means i take on the responsibility of her emotional reaction and her ability to cooperate in my hands. I didn't want to let the already nervous darling down.
I had proposed that we begin the evening with a meal at our place, with K and his girl arriving right at the point where it would be just about ready to serve. I am, without any need to downplay my skills, a very good cook, and one of my specialties is a hearty and scrumptious ribollita. Yes, my dear readers, the quickest way to facilitate an evening of kinky SM play is to prepare a meal that jump starts the sensual appetites of the participants. The aromas of the stewing vegetables and spices filled the apartment with a swampy greeting of welcome.
K and his girl arrived separately, K arriving first. I gave him a hug upon entrance to our place, and asked him to look the place over and tell me which room he felt worked best for our proposed activities. Within a few short minutes into his survey, he came across my recently acquired chin-up bar. I'd bought the contraption, satisfying a long-held desire to own a personal pull-up bar for me to use whenever i wanted. But as is the issue with most things i purchase, i evaluated the product on its ability to also service my SM agenda. K had clearly honed in on this when he encountered the bar, as i did when i noticed it was capable of holding 300 lbs.
He made his way to the kitchen, where my girl was putting out dishes for our meal. The air, full of the delicious scent of our upcoming repast, was also heavy with an awkwardness of three different human energies trying to find ways to immediately intermingle. I recognized the uncertainty of my girl's stance, and chose to break the tension by showing my hand. I asked her if she had any idea (one last time) of what was to happen in the evening:
"No, i have no idea. None."
I told her that several feet of brand new rope had been purchased, and K and i were going to bind each of the girls individually, and then try something that she'd been wanting to do for a very, very long time. I wish i'd had a camera ready to capture my girl's facial expression upon hearing what her intended use was going to be. The evening's objective had actually been a longstanding desire of hers, and even this normally cool and collected gal couldn't contain her glee.
Shortly after this, K's girl arrived, and we all retired to our living room. We chatted about politics, current events, our respective careers and our general happiness or disenchantment with them. After about 20 minutes, K and i looked at each other and we both nodded, which indicated that we felt that we had secured a level of comfort - we had collectively sloughed off our exteriors that permitted us to operate as semi-normal members of society and were ready to play.
I won't speak for anyone else, but for myself, i could sense an alignment of our individual breathing patterns. What came in as syncopated, self-centered and unconnected breaths from each of us, soon picked up on cues from those around us in the room, and slowly synchronized to the point where each of us respired at nearly the same interval.
With a head full of what was to come next, and a chest full of symbiosis, i got up from my chair and walked to the bedroom. I fetched the bag of newly acquired rope, and made my return back to the living room. I paused my reunion with the others for just a moment, stopping in the hallway, once more, meticulously perhaps, examining the pull-up bar one last time.
*this continues on here