Bonds of Love. Sarah K

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ I’d already thought maybe it was time to kick back, take time out, give up on men and get some cats. It seemed a lot more appealing than getting my heart broken all over again.

      ‘I’m not sure –’ I began.

      Alex laughed. ‘No, me neither. How about we just give it a go? I promise not to be weird,’ he said.

      I hesitated. Oh, what the hell. It was ages since I had been out with a man, ages since I’d been anywhere actually. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘But the first hint of weirdness and I’m out of there.’

      ‘Good call,’ said Alex. ‘When do you fancy meeting up? Are you free this weekend?’

      ‘This weekend?’

      ‘Too soon?’

      ‘No, no, I’m happy to meet up.’ What I meant was that I was happy to meet up and get it over with. First time around it had taken me dozens of coffees, dates and lunches with would-be Doms before I met Max.

      For me, as with any relationship, there has to be some kind of attraction there, some kind of chemistry between a Dom and a sub, and you don’t know if it’s there until you actually meet someone face to face. Even getting along well on the phone is really no guarantee that that magic something is there.

      First time around with online dating, both with vanilla and BDSM, I’d realised very early on that if you don’t meet someone fairly quickly you run the risk of making whoever you are talking to into whatever it is you are looking for, filling in the gaps with your imagination, expectations and hopes. It’s always much, much better to meet any hopefuls quickly rather than be desperately disappointed later.

      And if my previous experiences of online dating were anything to go by, the likelihood of Alex being the one or of us having that immediate chemistry were close to zero, but it would be good to go out, have a nice meal, meet someone new and get on to the next bit of the healing process. Maybe I should see meeting Alex as a good practice run, a way of getting back up on the horse.

      So, while Alex chatted, I went through the motions of opening my diary and flicking through the pages, giving myself time to think, wondering whether I really was ready to start over.

      Did I really want a relationship based on BDSM? Did I want to play again? The truthful answer was yes, and unless I planned to spend the rest of my life alone I had to get out there. There was no way I was going to find a relationship – BDSM or otherwise – by running scared and hiding away in my office, so meeting up with Alex seemed as good a place to start as any.

      ‘How about Sunday?’ I suggested, in a tone that I hoped implied I might just be able to squeeze him into my hectic social calendar.

      ‘Great. Sunday’s fine,’ Alex said. ‘Shall we say one o’clock?’

      ‘Okay.’

      ‘I’ve still got your email address here. I’ll book us a table with a sea view and email you a map.’

      ‘Okay, sounds like a plan.’

      He laughed. ‘So far, so good. Do you want me to hang up now?’ he asked.

      ‘Maybe, unless you’ve got something interesting to say, or are you saving that for Sunday?’

      ‘Oh, very sharp,’ he said, aping a wince. ‘I’ll go. I don’t want to use up all my best lines.’

      ‘Alex, wait,’ I said hastily. I had no idea who he was or what he was into and couldn’t, truth be told, ever remember talking to him before.

      ‘What is it?’ he asked.

      ‘Would you mind sending me your profile again? I don’t think I kept it,’ I said, hoping that he wouldn’t be offended.

      ‘Of course I can.’ And this time the laughter was even louder. ‘Good job I’m thick-skinned, isn’t it?’ he said. Seconds later his profile dropped into my inbox.

      And so, after the dream about Max had woken me, it was Alex’s profile that I was reading while sitting in my kitchen, cradling a mug of tea, at three o’clock in the morning with my laptop open on the table, trying very, very hard to get Max out my mind. I hadn’t consciously thought about him for weeks and had resisted the temptation to ring, text or email him. The problem was that Max had been my passport into another world, one I had thought about for years and, against my better judgement and good sense, I had fallen for him hard and fast. I’d expected quite a lot of things from BDSM, but falling in love really hadn’t been one of them.

      Looking at it now in the cool, clear light of dawn, I wasn’t sure if it was because of who Max was or what he had offered me. One thing was for sure; I was very determined to take it a lot slower next time. It wasn’t that love wasn’t on the agenda, it was just that this time I’d be more cautious.

      But love or no love, meeting Max had had a profound effect on me. Oddly enough, exploring submission in my private life had helped me feel far more confident and at ease with myself in my normal everyday life, as if by being at ease with my sexuality I had finally come home to who I truly was. It felt good, as if all sorts of dispiriting thoughts and feelings inside my head had finally fallen into place.

      Among other things, Max had given me the confidence to let go, to enjoy our sexual encounters as a game, a rich complex role-play where a person could explore all of who they were – and with the right person it could be as heady as any drug. That night’s dream had come as a complete revelation, it had seemed so vivid and painfully real. I was obviously missing him, and the sexual satisfaction that he brought me, much more than I had realised. If I closed my eyes I could still feel the brush of Max’s fingertips on my flesh.

      I made an effort to turn my attention back to the screen of my laptop and to Alex’s online profile. It said that he was six feet tall, blond, a divorcee in his late forties with grown-up children and his own home. He listed things he liked out in the real world and those he wanted to explore in the BDSM world. Ropes and gags and blindfolds: a list of things that excited me and also made me slightly nervous, all neatly laid out in a little table of preferences. Alongside what he liked or wanted to try, Alex had listed his hard limits, which were pretty standard: no blood, no blades, no needles, no breath-play, no minors and nothing between him and any partner that wasn’t consensual. Sane, safe and consensual. One of the mantras of BDSM play.

      He also said he was respectful of any limits, pain threshold, likes and dislikes, although like most Doms he’d try to push the boundaries sometimes, but would honour an agreed safe word that when spoken would stop play immediately. Apparently he had no hang-ups, and in a perfect world was looking for a real relationship that had BDSM at its core. It sounded like the idea I had been toying with – a real-life relationship, but with a BDSM twist that would flavour any encounters and spice up the physical side of things.

      Which brought me right back to Max, who had said that sustaining a long-term relationship that could encompass both was close to impossible. A good Dom and sub relationship was based on respect, a sense of formality and a slight distance. What respect would I have for my Dom if we were over-familiar, if I saw him stretched out on the sofa in tracksuit bottoms or had to try to persuade him to take the bins out? Familiarity, Max had argued, really did breed contempt and destroyed the Dom-sub dynamic.

      It was this that, despite loving the thrill of submission and enjoying our time together, had given me mixed feelings about Max and how long we could last as a couple. He had told me early on that he СКАЧАТЬ