This was the summer of 2011, probably August, though I don’t remember the exact date. This is the first real bondage experience I can remember.
It is dusk, I’m in the woods, and I’m attached to a massive oak tree.
My back is against the bark, my cotton T-shirt fraying against the tree. My arms are stretched above my head, around the trunk, my wrist cuffs attached to eye bolts on the other side. My legs are spread, stretching my skirt, my ankles positioned back and to each side where my ankle straps are likewise eye-bolted to the tree.
I realize now he has planned this for some time. The eye bolts are heavy gauge and took some doing to get them so deeply into the trunk. They are placed at spots that exactly match the length of my arms and placement of my legs.
Daniel didn’t always possess common sense, but he was always endowed with abilities to make and build things. He could measure stuff in his head — apparently like the length of my arms.
He had been here before, screwing eye bolts into the tree. He planned this.
He was good at screwing things — like trees and me. We had been together about two months. This was long before I had any awareness of who I was, of my submissiveness, and my need for a different life. All I knew back then was that I had submissive fantasies, which both excited me and concerned me. More concerning was that I was just a couple years from thirty and had no man in my life. (I was in such a different place back then, as my only consideration was a man, and I had this idea I needed to be married by the age of thirty!)
Anyway, I’d met this guy, Daniel, and, well, I thought he was maybe a possibility. He was really attractive in a scruffy kind of way, and he was adventurous, which is something I was not growing up. He asked me out, and I said yes.
So here’s a tip for other women. Rule #1: Never share your current submissive fantasy on the first date…
So, it is dusk, I’m in the woods, and I’m attached to a massive oak tree.
Well, it is my fantasy, but most fantasies are not meant to be carried out. Daniel, though, he never met an adventure he didn’t like. Doesn’t matter if it’s someone else’s adventure.
He didn’t get the real pulse of my fantasy. To be fair, I didn’t tell him. Over dinner at an Italian white-tablecloth place on our first date, it was crazy for me to reveal my fantasy to him in the first place. I don’t know what possessed me, except maybe my slight infatuation with a really cute guy. But it was over dessert, and we’d had a lot of wine, and I think he just asked if there was something crazy I’d never done that someday I’d want to do. I drew a blank. But this had been a fantasy and a dream, so it came to mind, and, well, I let it out.
So I said it, about being tied, and about a tree, at night, in a woods — all of that — and to him it was, well, about being tied to a tree at night in a woods. To me it was about the feeling of being controlled by something massive and powerful. It was about feeling impaled by a huge phallic oak presence, and being sacrificed in public to the gods of nature. It was about having a cosmic orgasm in the darkness of night.
But I just didn’t feel I could say all that over tiramisu and thick espresso on a first date.
And I never thought he would remember what I’d said. But he did.
So, it is dusk, I’m in the woods, and I’m attached to a massive oak tree.
Daniel pulls out a knife — this is for real — and now I’m really scared. “Daniel,” I say in my best mommy voice, “what are you doing?”
He says nothing but proceeds to take my T-shirt, cut it from the bottom, and rip it open with his hands, He uses the knife then to slice through the short sleeves so he can pull the whole shirt free from my body. Likewise, he slices through the hem of my skirt, rips it open up to the waist, then uses the knife again to cut through the waistband. He pulls it off me.
This was back in the time I still enjoyed the soft pleasures of a bra and panties. However, if you’re with a man and he gets you down to your bra and panties, they become meaningless, irrelevant, and, to him, a wasted sixty seconds.
His knife sliced through my $75.00 bra from Chantelle. I remember this because I had never owned such an expensive bra in my life, and never have since. I winced when he did it. He didn’t know.
Likewise my panties, although these were probably an $8.00 pair from Target. I think I was still saving up for panties from Cosabella.
Now, though I was still grieving over the gruesome murder of my bra, my fear of my boyfriend with a knife had subsided, and my main concern was that, after whatever fantasy scenario he had planned to “delight” me with, I had no clothes to go home in. (Again, back when public nudity was unknown to me.)
So, it is dusk, I’m in the woods, now totally naked, and I’m attached to a massive oak tree.
The regret I have in all of this is that I am not experiencing my fantasy for real, as Daniel keeps pushing himself into it.
He sits on the ground about ten feet away and watches me.
I am quiet. I say nothing. This is no longer my fantasy, although he thinks it is. I am now something else, a girlfriend in his bondage, or maybe a construction project.
He takes off his jeans, and then his shorts, and I remember another reason I have stayed with him for two months.
In the two months since our first date we have had really great sex. He is very nicely endowed and has the stamina of a horse. In truth, I was not so sexually experienced then, even in my late twenties, so anyone might have seemed to me to be a sexual superhero, but I think he kind of really was. Anyway, he is good with me in that way, and apparently thoughtful too — thoughtful enough to remember my ill-spoken bondage fantasy on our first date.
So, it is now night, totally dark, I’m in the woods, naked, attached to a massive oak tree, and Daniel is fucking me.
This is where the story, the real story, breaks down. For the truth is, I don’t remember much of what happened thereafter. He fucks me tied up. I think that in the life of a future slave this should be a momentous experience, but it isn’t. Sometimes the bondage dream goes sideways in real life. I just wasn’t into it. I escaped into a different mental space. This would-be fantasy-made-real is actually uneventful.
I don’t blame Daniel. He had good intentions. But neither of us really knew what we were dealing with. Though I had no idea of my true submissive nature back then, I sensed that this night was not right, not what I needed to do and be. Looking back, it was bondage but without dominance. It became kind of a comical charade.
I guess I made him feel good about it, because that’s how I am. He thought I had the time of my life. He took me home after. He had thought ahead about having a blanket in the car, and he wrapped me in it.
I have changed his name in this account and hope he never reads it. Wherever he is today, he is a sweet man, very talented, and well endowed in many ways that might matter to many women. He deserves better than me, and he never knew the submissive I was, which back then I never knew myself.
But that was my first time being tied to a thing.
3 thoughts on “my first time: tied to a thing”
“But I just didn’t feel I could say all that over tiramisu and thick espresso on a first date.” This line made me spit out my coffee in laughter. What’s the word we have used to describe you — adorable? Definitely that, and also hilarious!
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Thank you… you’re so sweet, Steph.
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Deserves better than you? I call BS.