Intervention
Flirting with Fear
I’m startled by the sound of Lord Murray’s voice directly behind me.
“Let me help you with that, lass.”
I watch, transfixed, as his large hands gently remove the restraint and set it down on the table with a metallic clank. Picking up the satin ribbon, he says, “I believe this is better suited to you.”
I watch numbly as he loosely wraps it around my wrists and ties the ribbon in a pretty bow. Lifting my chin to meet his gaze, he asks, “How does that feel, lass?”
“Better,” I answer softly, feeling my heart rate beginning to slow as I stare into his green eyes.
“Good.”
I watch him return to the table and blush when I notice the other trainers busily taking notes.
“Drama queen,” Nash mutters under his breath as he pulls at the buckles of the cuffs with his teeth.
Robinson puts her arm around me and says, “You’re safe with me.”
Still shaken by the experience, her words are like a salve to my soul. I look up into her velvet brown eyes, unable to express my profound gratitude.
She turns to Nash and demands he apologize.
“For what?” He snorts in amusement as he unbuckles the collar and lays the set back on the table.
Robinson raises an eyebrow. “For being disrespectful to a fellow student. I have no issue reporting what you said to the trainers.”
His cocky expression falters as he glances at the trainers who are watching the whole exchange.
“Deal,” he answers with a charming smile.
“But you’ll have to help me with this.” He holds up a leather hood with three slits—two for the eyes and one for the nose—and buckles that connect behind the head.
“That is our assignment,” she retorts and stares at him expectantly.
Nash lets out an exaggerated sigh and says, “Sorry.”
“Not to me, fool.”
He gets a pained look on his face, then turns to face me, quickly muttering, “Sorry.”
“A proper apology,” she demands.
He closes his eyes, and his face turns red as if he might explode. But when he opens his eyes again, he says in a strained voice, “I apologize for being disrespectful.”
“And unsympathetic,” Robinson adds firmly.
He lets out a heavy sigh but looks me in the eyes. “That, too.”
I simply nod, wanting to get this uncomfortable interaction over with as quickly as possible.
I’m overcome with a flood of relief when Robinson unties the satin ribbon from my wrists before helping Nash.
While the two of them assist each other in trying on different bondage gear, I pick up and examine the other items on the table. I find them all intimidating and am unwilling to try any on, but I still can’t help being curious about them.
Before the session ends, I glance at the trainers who are still busy taking notes. It seems Lord Murray must sense my eyes on him because he looks up at me.
I’ll forever be grateful to him because he somehow sensed what was happening before I was even aware of it, and his quick intervention allowed me to continue this practicum without incident. Wanting him to know how grateful I am, I mouth the words, Thank you, Rìgh.
He nods before turning his attention back to his notes.
At the end of the practicum, we all line up to be evaluated. Rather than a critique this time, we are each asked the same question: Which items appealed to you and why?
By listening closely to their answers, I learned that a few of my classmates enjoy equipment that totally immobilizes them during a scene, while others prefer the sensory deprivation of hoods. And some enjoy leashes because they like pet play.
When Pixie Girl enthusiastically announces, “I’m a Rope Bunny!” I turn and stare at her. I can’t help imagining her dressed up like a bunny tied up in pink rope. She’s cute enough to pull it off, and it certainly fits her personality, so I don’t find her statement that odd.
But my assumption is quickly corrected when Dono Marcelo asks her, “What is it about rope bondage that you enjoy, Ms. Foster?”
“I love being tied up and having my picture taken in pretty poses!”
“What about that appeals to you?” he asks pointedly.
“Hmm…I’m not sure. I guess I like hearing my rigger’s praises after he laces the rope around my body and pulls it tight.
Honestly, I don’t really care what he does with me.
” She lets out a peal of delightful giggles.
“But my favorite pose is being completely naked when he laces the rope between my legs and pulls it tight with just the right amount of pressure on my pussy. It feels divine!”
It isn’t until then that I realize she doesn’t actually dress up like a bunny and that “rope bunny” is a euphemism. I have to laugh at myself.
Mistress Kim follows up the line of questioning by asking, “Ms. Foster, what is it that you enjoy the most, the act of being tied up or the performance aspect of Shibari?”
She crinkles her nose all cute-like. “Umm…that’s a hard question for me to answer, Mistress Kim.”
“Then I suggest you ruminate on that further,” the trainer firmly states.
Pixie Girl’s expression becomes more solemn, and she nods. “I will.”
Headmaster Wallace then turns his attention to me. “Miss Lane, you indicated on your application that bondage is a strict boundary for you…”
My heart starts to race, worried that he is going to ask me about my near meltdown in front of the other students.
“…and I’m curious to hear which instruments you found appealing.”
I clear my throat, briefly glancing at Lord Murray before answering. “Bondage is not something I have any interest in. So, I chose to try the satin ribbon.”
When I notice Lord Murray give Nash a hard stare, I assume my nemesis must be smirking since he was there and witnessed what happened.
“And what were your thoughts?” Headmaster Wallace presses.
I sigh. “I didn’t mind it…too much.”
He tilts his head. “Are you saying that you did not enjoy it?”
I take a moment to think back on that moment before answering him. “I’m not sure.”
“Please clarify yourself,” Dono Marcelo states.
Embarrassed, I struggle to meet his gaze when I answer. “It was so brief that I don’t feel I can answer that.”
“If that is the case, would you be open to trying it again?”
I sigh nervously under his intense gaze. I’m sure it must seem strange that I’m making a fuss over satin ribbon when I had zero issues with the violet wand. But I can’t shake the uncomfortable feeling I get whenever I think of restraints, even when it’s something as basic as a ribbon.
Heck, even I am surprised by the revelation…
I refuse to be intimidated by silly ribbon! In the spirit of wanting to explore my resistance further so I can better understand it, I answer confidently, “I would.”
After everyone has been questioned, the trainers instruct us to head to the lounge and wait until one of them calls us back for the second practicum.
I smile as I enter the spacious area and glance out the windows at Central Park. It looks as if new snow has fallen while I was in class and has covered the park in a pristine layer of white.
Drawn by the delicious aromas coming from the vast selection of hors d’oeuvres, I walk up to the table and notice they’ve set out a completely new spread. I pick up a plate and eagerly go down the line, taking one of everything before taking a seat next to Amethyst at our normal table.
“I’m sorry you got stuck with that twat,” she mutters when I sit down.
I shrug. “It couldn’t be avoided. Luckily, Robinson acted as my shield. That guy is seriously clueless.”
“So, what did Onassis want?” she asks with a smirk.
Knowing I can’t tell her about the gift, I simply tell her, “He called me out.”
Looking at me with concern, she puts down her slice of bruschetta topped with grated tomato. “What for?”
“I think he can read minds,” I laugh. “That or my confusion must be written all over my face, because he lectured me about not asking questions.”
“Why haven’t you?” she asks, seeming genuinely interested as she takes a big bite of her bread.
I blush, embarrassed to admit the truth. “It’s just that everyone in our class knows way more than I do, and…I hate having to ask stupid questions.”
I glance briefly at Nash and mutter, “You know he wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.”
Amethyst frowns. “Wait. Are you here for him or for yourself?”
I bristle at her question but don’t know how to react. “I don’t care about that idiot.”
“Then don’t let him, or anyone else, keep you silent. If you have a question…ask!”
I groan because her words hit me hard. It’s true that I’ve allowed my fears of how the others may judge me to rule almost every decision I’ve made—even though everyone in class knows I’m still new to BDSM.
“You’re right,” I concede.
“Of course I am,” she replies with a grin before finishing off her bread.
I stare down at my plate of exotic foods, trying to decide what to taste first. The small, perfectly circular golden-brown fried ball calls to me, and I dip it into the accompanying sauce.
It’s spicy with a hint of smoke. I’m thoroughly delighted by the crunch of the outer coating and the creamy texture of mashed potatoes mixed with ground meat in the center.
After finishing that perfect bite, I pick up the silver spoon and examine the artfully mounded vermicelli noodles and fresh seafood topped with a generous piping of aioli.
After taking the bite, my eyes widen with pleasure as my taste buds are flooded with the deep, briny taste of the ocean and the delicious combination of toasted noodles and caramelized onions and tomatoes.
While moaning with culinary satisfaction, Michelle takes a seat on the other side of me. “That good, huh?”
I nod enthusiastically. To my surprise and delight, Robinson joins us at the table.
“Thanks again for your help tonight,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “Not a big deal. We’re in this together.”
“Welcome,” Michelle announces, holding out her hand to Robinson and introducing herself by her first name.
Robinson takes it and smiles. “Thanks, I’m Tamara.”
Impressed with everything I’ve tried so far, I pick up the small bowl with black rice, which is topped with a shrimp with its head still on. Unfortunately, I’m unsure how to eat it.
Tamara glances at me and picks up the one on her plate. I watch as she twists off the head and sucks the tasty juices before peeling the rest.
I follow her lead and enjoy the best damn shrimp I’ve ever eaten! Trying the black rice next, I’m hit with a kaleidoscope of flavors from the ocean with a pop of smoked paprika and saffron.
I haven’t been able to figure out the origins of these hors d’oeuvres yet, but whichever country they come from, I’m certain it’s somewhere near the ocean.
And then it dawns on me…
Last week, the selection of hors d’oeuvres was French-inspired, and right after, we went to Paris. What if the food being served hints at our next destination?
I watch with amusement as Michelle admires the small fried croissant covered in sugar she’s picked up off her plate before taking a bite. “Oh my…” she cries, showing me that the inside is full of a yellow custard. “You thought your noodles were good, but this is to die for!”
Amethyst scoffs, “You say that about everything.”
“Because it’s true,” she laughs, popping the rest in her mouth.
I’ve been toying with the idea that we might be headed to a seaside city in Italy, but the custard croissant is throwing me off. Charmed by this culinary food riddle the trainers have set for us, I decide to keep my musings to myself and see if I’m right.
Wherever we’re headed, I know we’re in for some excellent food!
For some odd reason, we remain in the lounge for a much longer time than usual. When Mistress Kim finally arrives to collect us, she simply states, “Follow me. We are running behind schedule.”
The nine of us quickly file out of the lounge and head to the auditorium. My nerves kick in when I walk through the double doors knowing that tonight’s practicum is going to center on bondage.
After reacting so strongly to a simple ribbon, I’m worried that whatever they have planned for me tonight could induce another panic attack even though I agreed to be challenged.
What’s even worse, this time it will be on a stage for everyone to see.
I sit down on the velvet-covered seat and start wringing my hands nervously. When I watch Russo make his way to the stage, I silently promise myself to call my safeword if things get to be too much when it’s my turn.
I watch breathlessly as different bondage scenes are played out on the stage.
Each scene seems increasingly more advanced as the other students take the stage.
It starts with Russo being cuffed in chains and teased with a crop, then Pixie Girl, who gets tied up in a chest harness made of rope and has her arms restrained above her.
She stands on her tiptoes, partially suspended from a hook dangling from the ceiling, while I watch her partner make her orgasm three times.
Although it’s obvious she is enjoying her scene, I find it uncomfortable.
Nash is the last one to be called up before me. I watch as he’s bound face-forward on a St. Andrew’s Cross and whipped with a miniature bullwhip. Although the whip makes a wicked sound, and I hear his cries of pain as he is lashed repeatedly, I’m actually unbothered by the impacts.
The scene ends with him screaming in climax. Afterward, he tells the trainers that it was a ten out of ten for him.
I feel anxious when he steps down from the stage, knowing my time has come. However, when my name isn’t called, I look to see the trainers are quietly talking amongst themselves as the minutes continue to tick by.
Finally, I notice Headmaster Wallace shake his head before he calls out, “Miss Lane, please step up to the stage.”
My legs feel like jelly as I get up from my seat and walk toward the stairs. Already feeling unsteady on my feet, I wonder if I’m about to make a fool of myself in front of everyone.
But Amethyst’s little pep talk replays in my mind as I walk past Nash. I’m not here for anyone else.
This is my journey, and I need to own it.
Glancing over at the trainers before I ascend the stairs, I swallow hard and take a moment to steel myself before I take the stage.
My heart skips a beat when I see Mistress Kim rise from her seat and wonder if she is going to be my partner for this scene.
Because my attention is focused on her, I nearly jump out of my skin when the double doors suddenly burst open.
Everyone turns their head toward the back of the auditorium. Time seems to slow down, and I struggle to breathe when I see who is walking down the aisle toward me…