Honestly, I am pretty easy-going but I really have a problem when people aren’t punctual. It’s probably mostly my own problem, but it just seems rude to be flaky.
So as you know, Candice was supposed to visit for the weekend. I was so excited to see a friend since I hardly know anyone up here in my new digs in Northern California. In my mind, I had the whole weekend figured out… where we would eat, what we would do, how we would play, etc.
Candice said she was going to arrive here on Saturday at 11am. This would make it easy for her to drive up from San Francisco after a leisurely post-breakfast departure. At 10:50am, I put the water on for tea. Of course I had already dressed (and re-dressed a few times) in the “perfect” outfit: kind of casually sexy. Though it wasn’t supposed to be any kind of official date, I was somehow nervous about setting the right tone with my outfit because I haven’t seen Candice in a while. So I ended up wearing a simple plum cashmere sweater with a ballerina neck line, and some camel corduroy pants tucked in to some knee-high, lace up riding boots. So the look was kind of casual, but still had that kind of an earthy, dominant feel to it.
At 11:15am, I poured myself a tea and sat on the sofa, not knowing if I should unpack another moving box or just twiddle my thumbs for the next few minutes.
At 12:10, I was bored and getting pissed. I decided to leave a note on the door and get out of the house to make her feel guilty. So I left a note, “Candice, I was getting hungry and ran out to a restaurant. Back later.”
But as I was walking down the front path, the FedEx truck showed up and the driver had me sign for 12 packages from high end retailers!! They were my “NetFlix” clothes and shoes. Wow. I suddenly didn’t feel like going out anywhere; I just wanted to open all of those boxes and try everything on.
So I poured myself a glass of Sirah, put on some classic tango music and started playing dress up. Candice was a vague thought and if she showed up, I would answer in whatever garment I had on at the time.
The clothes looked amazing and I was getting really turned by feeling all the couture fabric against my skin and the shoes were getting me pretty moist. I have a bit of a fetish for super expensive shoes with a towering heel. I guess they make me feel like a sex object and I love that feeling. My chocolate brown opera gloves showed up and I had to immediately take a little break, put them on and masturbate.
I was so ready for Candice to knock on the door. But she didn’t. I had gone through all the boxes and no Candice. How rude could she be. I didn’t remember her being like that. Finally, at 3:30 the phone rang and it was her. She babbled a litany of the usual excuses and I found her explanations really annoying. She said she was just leaving San Francisco and would be here in about an hour (which really means two hours). That was just enough time to get really petulant.
Ding Dong. The doorbell rang at exactly 5:30. I opened the door, now in new jumper, the opera gloves, and some wicked-high Gucci pumps that I could hardly walk in.
She was all smiles and babbling about how sorry she was to be late. Blah, blah, blah. She didn’t even dress up for me, but showed up in some jeans and a t-shrit with some cutsie saying on it. I didn’t even say a word. Instead, I grabbed her talking lips and squeezed them together to let her know that the babble must stop. I think I hurt her a bit because she jolted to an angry look. As I held her lips as if grabbing a duck’s bill, she finally settled down and I dragged her by the lips toward the bookcase where a thick, 8ft. chain was waiting. I ordered her to put her hands together, then I chained them together securely with a padlock. Then I took the other end of the chain under her legs from the front and went up her back and looped tightly around her neck, locking it with a second padlock. I could tell she was getting turned on. With the remaining bit of chain hanging from her neck, I took it around a post that is part of the room divider near the living room. I drew the chain in really tightly around the post, leaving no slack for her head to move. In fact, her head was in full contact with the post and it didn’t look very comfortable.
But then I looked at her there, and it still bothered me that she was so casually dressed. It was almost like she dissed me on purpose. Whatever. She had on these stupid Converse tennis shoes that really insulted me. Remembering that we had the same size shoe (6 1/2″) I left her there and went to my fed ex boxes where I found some 5″ Chloe wedges (probably the sexiest shoe I have ever seen). I yanked off her Converses and forced her feet into the Chloe’s. I could tell she was loving it… and those shoes. So there she was… chained at the neck to a post, that chain running down her back and through her crotch to her hands that were chained together in front. I liked her jeans a lot better with a big chain over them. And the Chloe’s looked even better on her than on me! Good thing my place is carpeted or I would never be able to return those shoes.
I took her chin in the firm grip of my glove, looked her right in the eye and coldly said: “Don’t ever be late again”. Then I marched out of the room, turned off the light and went upstairs to my bedroom. I changed into some schlubby clothes, went back downstairs, walked right past Candice and out the door because I felt like seeing a movie. I was hungry too, so I decided to eat at a restaurant first before the movie. After I ordered, the thought that Candice was standing in those high wedge shoes was getting me going again. Dinner was fair, then I was off to the movie, a romantic comedy.
But in the movie, I started getting scared that Candice might have to pee and accidentally ruin those shoes. I couldn’t take it much past the first hour, so I bailed on the movie to make sure Candice didn’t wreck my shoes.
At home, I played it cool when I came in the door. It was a relief to make a quick glance and see she hadn’t made any puddles. But she did look pretty drained from standing there all that time. She started to apologize, but I really wasn’t in the mood, so I strapped a leather gag in her mouth. Then I took off her shoes and put them neatly on the shelf. Phew!! I unchained her neck and led her by the chained hands to the bathroom were I locked the loose end around the base of the toilet. Nighty night. I switched off the light and closed the door behind me, ignoring her garbled pleas to be released.
Upstairs, I took a hot shower to wind down. After relaxing in my robe on my bed for a bit, I kept looking at the chocolate brown opera gloves and thinking about how much they turn me on. So I put on the gloves, turned off the light and handcuffed my hands behind my back. I really wanted to sleep like that. So worked my way into the sheets, hands still locked in those long gloves behind my back and I tried to sleep. I tossed around for about 45 mins before I finally was relaxed enough to doze off. I loved being locked like that. I loved having Candice locked in the bathroom downstairs.
In the morning, I was awakened by Candice’s sorrowful whimpering. I think she had learned her lesson about being late. My hands were still locked behind my back in those scrumptious leather gloves and I loved waking up like that. I made my way out of the bed and found the handcuff key on the dresser. But the gloves made it difficult for me to maneuver the key into the hole and I ended up dropping the key several times, having to squat down, grab the key with my locked hands behind my back and start over again each time. But finally, I heard that joyful little “click” and I was free.
As I approached the downstairs bathroom where Candice was, I started getting this rush of guilt for being overly harsh. I wanted to give her a taste of sweetness. When I opened the door, she looked utterly miserable and uncomfortable. Clearly, she hadn’t had a very nice night. As I unchained her, I spoke in a normal, sweet voice and tried to comfort her. She was so relieved when I took the gag out and there were impression marks all over her cheeks. I left my dominatrix personality out of the room and concentrated on reversing the harshness that I had dealt to her. First, I handed her a fluffy robe to change into while I made a protein smoothie as quickly as I could. Then I drew a hot bubble bath in the upstairs bathroom. I gently led her there where just slipped into the soothing water. The look on her face turned from anguish to exaltation. After a few moments of letting her settle in, I handed over the smoothie, which she took straight to her lips (she hadn’t even eaten dinner). I sat on the floor next to the tub.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
And she started to cry gently: “Yeah, I’m fine. It was just a little traumatic. I really wanted to be with you.”
I assured her that we were “cool” and I that I regretted having given her such harsh treatment.
She warmed up to me and I told her that after her bath, she can put on something nice and we can go to a restaurant downtown for an omlette and some coffee. I left her bathside to clean up too, putting on a CD of some Keb Mo’ music.
After a while I came downstairs in some jeans and a floral blouse (kind of retro) and Candice was in her same jeans, a turtleneck and boots with a rounded toe and a stacked wooden heel. She looked elegantly hot, but comfortable at the same time.
We went to the restaurant and had some great girl chat ( FYI… hardly touching on kink).
Then we checked out an estate sale on the way back to my place. At home, we felt so spent from the night before that we decided to lay down on my bed for a little nap. I thought it was sexy that we were both still fully dressed. I loved seeing her sleep in her boots.
When we awoke, we both felt refreshed and a little melancholy because we knew she had to get back to San Francisco. We said goodbye in the driveway and as she was about to pull away, I whispered in her ear…
“Don’t be late next time.” She smiled and headed off.
- Karen
