Bondage Plaything – Ch. 2: Meeting Petra
Two minutes late and out of breath, I opened the door to the “Kleines Cafe.” It wasn’t very busy at that hour, so it wasn’t hard to spot the tall, slender blonde among the handful of older gentlemen reading the newspaper. She was wearing an elegantly tailored suit and stylish high heels. I immediately felt inferior in my regular work clothes, which I’d thrown on in a hurry. Petra sized me up as I walked toward the table.
“Good morning, Petra,” I said as I pulled out the chair across from her.
“Wait!” she ordered curtly. “Take off your jacket and turn around!”
Caught off guard and feeling awkward, I took off my jacket, hung it on the nearby coat rack, and turned around once in front of the table. Petra gestured for me to sit down.
“Julia’s right,” she said with a faint smile. “You’re pretty. You’d make a good bondage toy.”
“Wow!” I said as I sat down and looked around nervously, because Petra hadn’t lowered her voice one bit. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“Why should I?” Petra replied, turning to the waiter who had now approached the table. “A black coffee and a slice of blueberry cake for me, tap water for her.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the waiter said eagerly with a slight bow, casting a sidelong glance at me.
Part of me – and the reader may well guess which part – enjoyed the humiliation and the fact that Petra took the lead so naturally. But I was also confused. We had only just met. As far as I understood, we were equals until we agreed otherwise.
“I would have liked a cup of coffee, too,” I said with a forced smile. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Listen, Lulu. I really don’t have any time to waste. I have an extremely demanding job. I work between 70 and 80 hours a week. In return, I make a ton of money – so much that I can barely spend it all. I’m not saying this to brag, but to make it clear that my personal life is centred around the weekends. And I can’t imagine a better way to unwind than watching a pretty toy – or two – writhing in strict bondage, sweating and moaning.”
Petra didn’t say this in a whisper, but in a confident, steady voice. I looked around again, but the other nearby guests were hidden behind their newspapers. Had they heard that?
Petra wrinkled her nose. “Strict bondage isn’t quite right. Brutal bondage would be more fitting.” I just nodded slightly. Petra’s self-assurance clashed sharply with my inhibitions and my uptightness about sexual matters, and a battle raged inside me over whether I should run away or whether this might be the path to freedom that I had been searching for – mostly in vain – up until now.
“This won’t be a long meeting”, Petra continued. “Contrary to what you think, there isn’t much to talk about.”
For the first time, something like a spirit of defiance stirred within me. “But we do have to discuss a few things. What we expect from each other. What our limits are. Communication is important in a relationship like this… um…” My voice sounded much quieter than I intended.
Petra nodded. “Yes, communication is important. But you’ve already said everything. I’ve read your blog and your stories. Read them very carefully. You don’t want to talk; you don’t want to negotiate. You want to submit. That’s your nature. To whom isn’t that important to you. In what and for what isn’t that important to you. Your desire to talk is just insecurity.”
I tilted my head and thought about it. Petra wasn’t wrong. But a lack of clear communication and a failure to set expectations and boundaries was, in my view, a red flag.
“Getting into a relationship – no matter what kind – always makes you vulnerable. Surrendering yourself to someone, making yourself helpless, makes it even more so. It’s always a leap into the dark. Nothing I say could change that. You’ve often talked to potential partners at length, were almost certain you’d found the right one, and yet in the end you backed out, simply because you didn’t dare, didn’t you?”
I nodded sheepishly. Was it really that obvious from what I wrote? Of course, I was standing in my own way when it came to fulfilling my desire for submission. I had settled into a comfortable routine with myself. Comfortable, but not fully fulfilling.
“Think about it, Lulu. Of course you’re taking a risk. I could be a liar. I could try to blackmail you. You could lose your job, your friends, your family. All sorts of things could happen! But the same goes for me, and I’m willing to take that risk. In my eyes, the risk of not living life to the fullest is greater.”
Petra slid a business card across the table toward me.
“Google me. See what’s out there about me and what I’d have to lose. Come see me at the office if you need to. But don’t wait too long. Yes or no – that’s all I need to know.”
Even as she spoke, Petra placed a bill on the table and put on her coat. “You’d really make a pretty bondage toy!” I barely knew what was happening, and Petra was gone.
Of course, I googled Petra’s name immediately and found dozens of entries. At home, I researched her more thoroughly. Petra was a member of the supervisory board at a large company. One of the youngest female supervisory board member in Europe, as a proud local newspapers reported. There was even a photo of her with the Minister of Trade.
I tend to overthink things. I always expect the worst. But I didn't want to ruin that opportunity. I had made up my mind that very same day.
Petra [3:01pm] Next Saturday at 9am. Keep the whole day free. My address is on the back of my card.
