Chapter 10 Lessons in Restraint
Lessons in Restraint
My bad
Mr. Onassis’s gaze returns to me as if he can read my thoughts, and he stares at me intently for several seconds.
I hate being the center of attention and squirm before he turns to address the rest of the class.
“There are a variety of bondage materials to choose from, but today we will go over the most commonly used.”
He brings up a picture of a pair of metal cuffs on the interactive whiteboard. “This is the first thing the general public associates with the word ‘bondage.’”
I snort to myself, because that’s the first thing I thought of.
“However, this type of restraint has its limitations and the potential to cause bruises if the submissive struggles during a scene.”
I stare at the silver cuffs with a key beside them, and I physically shudder. The fact that the cuffs require a key to unlock them is utterly horrifying.
What if the Dominant were to misplace it?
Mr. Onassis then shows a picture of a different style of cuffs that have wristbands made of pink leather.
“To combat this, the BDSM community created its own variety of cuffs that are comfortable, versatile, and visually pleasing. I caution against using common household items that can cut into the skin or are difficult to remove, such as extension cords, clothesline, or standard duct tape.”
He paused before continuing. “Rather than household duct tape, I highly recommend using items that are specifically made for BDSM, such as bondage tape. It sticks to itself but does not stick to skin.”
He shows us a picture of bundles of rope in a variety of pretty colors. “Nylon rope is a good choice because of its smooth texture, color choice, and availability. However, you must always have surgical scissors nearby whenever you engage in any type of rope play.”
He then takes a moment to explain the difference between surgical scissors and regular ones, sharing how the rounded edge of the surgical ones will keep a sub from being harmed if the rope needs to be cut loose.
“Another restraint I recommend is leather cuffs,” he says, showing us a set of black leather cuffs on the screen. “These are commonly used to attach to spreader bars, or household furniture such as beds and chairs.”
I scribble down more and more notes.
“We’ll finish tonight’s discussion with the topic of suspension. Suspension involves binding a submissive so no part of their body touches the floor.”
As if the feeling of helplessness couldn’t get any more terrifying, I think to myself.
Looking up from his interactive whiteboard, he adds in a somber tone, “It is imperative that when doing suspension, that your Dominant uses cuffs such as these, made specifically for such play.”
I catch my breath when he shows us a strange-looking set of cuffs. They are unusually thick and oddly shaped. My skin starts to crawl at the thought of hanging in the air by my wrists, and I write in my notes in bold letters: No suspension and then underline it.
“If you should ever find yourself playing out a suspension scene and your Dom attempts to use simple restraints, I expect you to immediately call your safeword and refuse to continue. Having proper equipment specifically made for suspension is essential. Never allow a Dom’s ego or inexperience to compromise your safety. ”
He points to different items on the screen as he names them, “These items can also include hooks, frames, and pulley systems.”
The shy guy, Carlisle, slowly raises his hand. A red blush rises to his cheeks when he asks, “What if only rope is involved?”
“Are you speaking of Kinbaku?”
He shrugs, laughing self-consciously.
Mr. Onassis nods. “There are two kinds of rope play. Shibari is normally more industrial in nature. The Rigger uses items such as carabiners, suspension plates, straps, swivels, and frames during the scene. Kinbaku, on the other hand, is simpler. The Bakushi, or Rope Master, requires only jute and a solid tree limb or a suspension ring secured to an anchor point.”
And here I thought hanging by my wrists was bad enough! The idea of being suspended in midair bound up rope is even more horrifying to me. Being at the mercy of another person in every possible way makes me feel physically ill just thinking about it…
I put a large asterisk next to rope bondage and write Hard limit.
As if he can read my mind, Mr. Onassis ends the night’s lesson by saying, “Bondage requires an extreme level of trust as a submissive. If this is something new to you, I suggest you begin at your comfort level and slowly advance from there. It’s far better to build up to it, than to push yourself too hard and miss out on a unique power exchange that is both beautiful and challenging. ”
I notice Velvet Eyes nodding her head vigorously from the table across from me.
“Do you have anything you’d like to add, Miss Robinson?” he asks with an encouraging smile.
“Rope is incredibly freeing.”
“I agree. I love it!” Pixie Girl chimes in.
Mr. Onassis nods to them both. “An esteemed colleague of mine echoes your sentiment. He has said that, ‘Being bound in rope elicits a feeling of helplessness that allows the submissive to embrace their darkest desires under the guise of helplessness.’”
Turning off the interactive board, he faces all of us. “I believe that is the perfect way to end tonight’s session. Enjoy your practicum tonight.”
As I put away my notebook to leave, he calls out, “Miss Lane, I’ll need you to stay after class.”
Startled by the request, I mutter worriedly, “Yes, Mr. Onassis.”
I remain seated, staring down at my hands as everyone else files out of the room. Once they’re gone, Mr. Onassis states, “You may approach, Miss Lane.”
I stand and walk up to his desk, worried that I’ve done something wrong. I’m startled when he picks up something from behind his desk.
Setting a large box down on the desk, he slides it toward me. “This is for you.”
I stare at the box in confusion. “What is it?”
“I have no idea, but I was instructed to give it to you after class ended.”
Far too curious to save it until I get home, I pull off the lid and look inside. I let out a gasp when I recognize the verdant green cloth.
“What the heck…?” I murmur to myself in disbelief, lifting it out of the box.
My jaw drops when I quickly scan the tag pinned to the collar and realize this isn’t the long cloak Matisse wore during our scene, but a matching one made just for me.
“What is written on the note, Miss Lane?” Mr. Onassis asks.
I hold the tag out so he can see it for himself:
May this cloak keep you warm on frigid nights. ~Matisse
Mr. Onassis frowns slightly after reading it and clears his throat. “It would be best if I keep this for now.”
Before I can open my mouth to protest, he adds, “I will see to it that my staff sends it to your apartment.”
Confused by his request, I simply nod.
When he sees my puzzled expression, Mr. Onassis explains, “This is highly unusual, and not something I want the other students to assume is commonplace.”
“I understand,” I reply, unable to hide how excited I am as I fold up the cloak and place it back in the box.
“It appears you made quite an impression,” he states.
I blush in response. “He definitely made an impression on me.”
“Let me give you a friendly word of caution, Miss Lane. These auctions are meant for educational purposes. If Matisse Dubois should attempt to contact you outside of this school, please let me know.”
“Is that a problem?” I ask, suddenly concerned.
He gives me a reassuring smile, “Not at all. However, our program has a policy that no one is allowed to contact our students privately.”
I nod, appreciating the wisdom behind such a policy.
“But I am concerned about something else.”
I suddenly feel the blood drain from my face. “What did I do wrong?”
“I believe I’ve made it clear that questions are welcome in my classroom.”
“You certainly have,” I agree.
“Then why do you insult me?”
I stare at him in disbelief, before sputtering, “I would never…”
He looks at me sternly. “There have been numerous occasions when I’ve asked if you have something to say, yet you’ve remained silent.”
My cheeks burn when I admit, “I’m a private person and don’t want to embarrass myself.”
Looking me in the eyes, he states, “That isn’t a valid excuse if you are serious about learning. I want you to understand something, Miss Lane. I push you because I want you to succeed.”
I bravely meet his gaze. “I know you do, Mr. Onassis.”
“Then ask questions in class so that I may answer them.”
Seeing the earnest compassion in his eyes, I promise, “I will.”
He nods. “Good. Go join the others. I’ve kept you long enough.” He glances at the box and adds, “For the sake of the other students, I would ask that you keep this gift to yourself.”
Appreciating the wisdom behind his request, I agree. The last thing I need is something new for Nash to tease me about.
But…I can’t stop smiling as I walk down the hall to my first practicum of the night.
Matisse will forever be my Kaelith!
Lost in my own thoughts, I’m unprepared when I walk into the room and I see the others standing around three large tables laid out with different types of bondage equipment.
I instantly tense up. I had no idea we would be experimenting with these things!
Headmaster Wallace turns his head when I enter, his crystal blue gaze momentarily quieting my fears. “Join the open table, Miss Lane.”
My heart sinks when he points to the closest one, and I see Nash standing at it. I glance around the room nervously and see Amethyst looking at me with compassion from another table.
I take a deep breath, remembering Gwen’s encounter with Helen today. If she can be so brave, then so can I. Holding my head up higher, I walk to the table. Gwen and I are both being tested, and neither of us is going to fail!
“For this practicum,” Headmaster Wallace states, “you will be assisting one another with the various restraints on the table to determine which you prefer.”
I stare down at the table and recognize several items that Mr. Onassis talked about in class: a strand of purple rope tied neatly in a bundle, a roll of blue tape that has a plastic sheen to it, satin ribbon, and long swaths of lace.
But I shudder when I notice a ball gag with a big red ball.
Quickly averting my eyes from it, I focus on a thin gold bracelet with two bands that crisscross in an “X” pattern.
My gaze then moves to a long rod with multiple cuffs attached in a row.
I stare at the device in confusion, trying to imagine how it could possibly be used.
Nash grabs a leather collar with a long metal chain and two cuffs attached to it. He starts putting them on by himself.
My heart races as I look down at the table, because there is not a single item here that I want to try.
“What if we assist each other?” Robinson suggests beside me.
I’m grateful she’s here at this table with me and nod. “I’d like that.”
“What would you like to try?”
Avoiding her question, I insist, “Why don’t I help you first?”
She grins and picks up the roll of bondage tape. “I’m curious how sticky this is.”
“Me, too!” I carefully peel off a corner of the tape to feel the other side and am surprised that it doesn’t feel sticky at all. When Robinson holds out her wrists to me, I awkwardly wrap the tape around them several times, picking up a pair of surgical scissors to cut the end.
“How hard is it to get out of?” I ask her.
She struggles to loosen the tape, then smiles at me. “It’s surprisingly tough.”
“Come on, give it some real effort,” Nash calls out teasingly, yanking hard against the chain of his collar and cuffs.
Robinson gives him the side-eye and ignores him.
“I’m curious if this will be hard to take off,” I tell her as I start to unwind the tape from her wrists. But I’m pleasantly surprised to find it comes off easily.
“That one is a keeper for me,” Robinson states. “Now, it’s your turn.”
I sigh anxiously as I look over the table again. Staring hard at the rod with four cuffs, I decide to take Mr. Onassis’s advice to heart and ask Robinson, “How is this used?”
Nash snorts as if amused by my question.
However, Robinson is quick to answer me, “That’s a spreader bar. Your legs are secured in the outermost cuffs, and your wrists to the inner ones.”
I crinkle my forehead. “I can’t envision how that is used.”
“Imagine bending over while holding the bar at your feet.”
“Ah…” I realize that it would put the person in the perfect position to be fucked without any way to resist. I make a mental check in my head not to dabble with that one.
Glancing over the entire table, the only thing I’m even vaguely attracted to is the shiny gold bracelet.
“Nice choice,” she comments when I hand it to her.
I feel both silly and vulnerable as I hold out my wrists to her.
Opening up the bracelet, she places one of my wrists into it, then crosses the other over it before locking it into place.
The blood immediately drains from my face when I hear the metallic click of the lock. The cold metal is surprisingly unyielding for being so fragile-looking.
Robinson’s voice sounds muffled when she asks, “Are you okay?”
I can only stare at my wrists trapped in the gold bracelet as chills travel down my spine. I choke on the lump in my throat, realizing the terrible mistake I’ve made in choosing hard metal.
Panic starts to set in as I struggle against the unforgiving restraint…