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ng me on the toilet. I couldn't move much
when we made love, but sex had rarely, if ever, been better.
And, though I was completely in the power of a possibly-unknown
man, I trusted him completely -- and I knew that if I asked, I'd
be released. Curious as it may have seemed to an outsider, I was
not being "had" against my will.
The next morning, I decided to try to take control, but within
the game. I knew what I planned to do, but I never got the
chance to try it. It was almost as if he sensed my mood, knew my
limits, and blocked me. Rather than slowly and delicately arous-
ing me, he was much more direct and almost forceful. The day
before, our love-making was, if you'll pardon the strained analo-
gy, like the slow, inexorable advance of a glacier. This was
more like a volcano, sudden and explosive. Neither is resistible
-- not that I wanted to resist! -- but they were quite differ-
ent. It ended with me bending forward over the back of the
armchair, gasping, with my legs tied to its legs while he entered
me.
The rest of the morning was different as well. After we had
regained our strength, he leashed me again and led me on a walk
in the woods. It's odd, being l
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