NaNoWriMo: This is a ROUGH DRAFT

“Minutes of the last meeting accepted,” Bart concluded. “Next on the agenda are the new applicants.”
“Carol approached me at the last general meeting,” Veronica volunteered. “She's switchable, so it would be best if we also took Laura with us. Give her a target for her aggression.” Laura nodded agreeably.
“You'll still need another support couple,” Bart noted. As usual, he was chairing the meeting.
“I asked Mike and Suzanne. They agreed, and Carol had no objections. We tentatively blocked the second weekend in November for the cabin. It was the first we all had free.”
Bart nodded, and Denise took notes in her role as secretary.
“Jake approached me about being his native guide,” Laura said. “He doesn't feel right to me, though, even if he weren't male . . . so I referred him to Veronica.”
“And I turned him down, of course.” Veronica said. The senior members of the Alphonse Francois Society recognised by now that Laura only told applying tops to ask Veronica if she weren't willing to do the scene; when she was willing, she took responsibility for asking her mistress's position. New applicants, however, did not have the background to know this, and doing it this way was a little safer for the submissive.
“He does feel a bit off,” Renee admitted, “but we need to give him a fair chance. I'll approach him next meeting, if nobody objects?” The group generally nodded; the odds of Jake being able to do more to Renee than she had already survived were pretty low.
“Only if you let Arthur and me be the back-up couple,” Odell offered. “I know you can take care of yourself, but guys like Jake . . . well, it would be a pleasure to help him see the light if he oversteps himself.”
“Accepted, with gratitude,” Renee said.
“Okay, then. Is anybody else coming up on the end of their six-month trial period?”
Denise checked her notes, “Yes. Erica Furze just passed her six month mark. Has she approached anybody?” There was a general shaking of heads around the table.
“I'm surprised she stuck with us this long,” Simeon put in. “I was in the row behind her at the singletail demo, and she flinched every time the whip struck, even way back from the stage. It actually distracted me from imagining that Lady Victoria had me tied to that post.”
Victoria laughed, “As if you have to imagine. You've been there often enough.”
“Not nearly often enough,” Simeon retorted with a saucy wink.
“Children,” Bart said quellingly
“Odell still owes me fifty bucks; he said she wouldn't even return for a third meeting,” Arthur put in. “Her second was the one where Jane did the presentation.”
“She started out by saying that the scene was not safe,” Odell explained. “That it's supposed to be all about consent, but there are some players who don't respect that, and it's hard to tell the difference.”
“It's an important point!” Jane objected. “4% of people are committing 60% of the rapes in the general population, and getting away with it. We don't even know how many are gravitating towards BDSM, where their victims are even more likely to be too embarrassed to report it. While the Alphonse Francois society screens its members, and while I will personally help victims deal with the legal system, the scene as a whole is more likely to exclude the person reporting a consent violation that to censure the perpetrator.”
“Still seemed likely to scare somebody like her off,” Odell said. “Have you seen her during the open social period? It's like she's afraid of everybody!”
“But she's still showing up,” said Bart. “As such, she needs to complete a . . . what are we calling it this week?”
“Experiential weekend,” Denise supplied.
“Yes, thank you. I take it she hasn't approached anybody?” A general shaking of heads, just as there had been the first time he asked the question. “I suppose we could wait until the six months she had to complete the experience expire?”
Jane shook her head, “Yes, she's obviously scared to death, but she's still showing up. Clearly we have something she needs, even if she's not sure what, yet.”
“Do we have any idea what she's into?” Bart asked, but nobody could offer anything more than “probably not whips.”
“I'll catch her after the next meeting,” Jane said. “Pull her aside, feel her out, get an idea for how she'd like to proceed. Encouraging a decision as to whether or not BDSM is for them is one of the reasons we require applicants to complete an experiential weekend in the first place.”
“I still think we should be honest and call it the 'shit or get off the pot' weekend,” Simeon muttered, but was generally ignored. Everybody had heard it before.
“Okay then,” Bart said briskly. “Next order of business. Refurbishing the club house's play space. We were discussing resilient rubber flooring as a possibility. Talan, did you get a quote on that?”

* * *

Odell had been right, Jane concluded. Erica certainly did seem to be afraid of everybody in the room, almost backed into a corner behind a ficus. Jane kept her body language gentle as she approached.
“Erica? I'm Jane,” she introduced herself. “I'm one of the counsellors for the Alphonse Francois Society. You've been coming to meetings for a while now, and it's time we discussed what's going to happen next.”
Erica nodded, muscles tense. Her eyes tracked the movement of people passing behind Jane, the counsellor noticed.
“Would you like to come up to my office, where it's a bit quieter, or would you feel safer staying down here with witnesses?”
“I'm sorry,” Erica said, startled. “I didn't mean to imply . . .”
“That you're nervous and having a hard time feeling safe here?” Jane suggested. “I'm supposed to notice things like that. It's my job.”
“I'm sorry,” Erica said again. “Umm. Your office would be good, I guess?”
Jane nodded and pivoted her wheelchair, leading the way. “The elevator is in what used to be the pantry,” she explained as they went. “In a heritage home like this, we try to avoid destroying the original character of the place while still making it work for us.” Jane used her key to summon the elevator, and led Erica into the wood-panelled interior. Erica just nodded numbly, taking it in as the elevator rose to the second floor elevator lobby – clearly previously a bedroom – and followed Jane down the hall to her private office.
The office was . . . homey, was the best word Erica could find for it. Rather than overhead fluorescent tubes, individual lamps with fabric shades illuminated the room from end tables at the ends of the sofa and a torchiere shone behind the overstuffed chair. The apparently hand-crocheted afghan draped across the back of the sofa softened the black upholstery and added some friendly colour to the room. Bookshelves lined the wall behind the pedestal desk, and the bridge lamp on the desk was also powered by the low switch on the wall. Even the wooden swivel chair opposite the desk was softened by a soft green seat pad.
“Please, sit wherever you feel most comfortable,” Jane invited. Erica looked around and settled on the wooden chair, probably the least comfortable in the room, and Jane recognised the cue that the other woman would feel safer with a desk between them, and maybe a more formal than friendly conversational tone. She wheeled easily to the other side of the desk and took out a pad of paper. “Do you mind if I take notes?” Jane asked.
“Umm. I guess not?” Erica said hesitantly.
“So, you've been coming to meetings for about six months now. That's what, 24 or 25 meetings? What do you think?”
“It's been . . . very educational,” Erica said. “I've learned a lot . . . the presentations are generally instructive, and the panel discussions bring up some interesting points . . .”
“Have you made any friends? Spoken much with any of the senior members? You were told we're here to help, right?”
“I was told that, yes,” Erica admitted. “I don't want to be a bother, though. I haven't really talked to anybody much. One of the other newcomers – Jake, I think? – approached me a few times, but somebody else always needed to talk to him about something before I had to say much.”
Jane nodded, mentally reminding herself to add that note to Jake's file as well. “We generally don't encourage new members to speak to one another very much, unless they were already friends coming in. We try to make the Alphonse Francois Society a safe space and, to be honest, we don't know any of you applicants well enough yet to say that you're safe playmates. That's one of the reasons we require the experiential weekend after your first six months and before you've been with us for a year.”
“That makes sense,” Erica allowed. “Does that mean that if I promise not to actually play with anybody, I can skip the experiential weekend?”
Jane laughed gently, “No, you don't get out of it that easily. Does it really scare you so much?”
Erica nodded, then apologised again. “I'm sorry. I'll do whatever's required of me, of course. I don't mean to cause trouble.”
“First,” Jane corrected, “You are not required to do anything. If you want to turn away and not deal with how you feel about BDSM, you are free to do so. Nobody will force you to go on the experiential weekend, and nobody will hunt you down and chide you if you never attend another meeting. I don't think you really want to do that, though. You've been coming back for six months, even though we scare you badly. Clearly there's something here you want.”
Erica nodded a little, avoiding Jane's eyes.
“Another reason the experiential weekend is required is more relevant to people like you. Hovering on the edges, attracted to things but uncertain of what it would really be like, is a very difficult position to be in, psychologically. We believe it's better to get it over with, so to speak, and learn how to accept that part of yourself.”
Erica nodded at the part about getting it over with. “Will it hurt?” she asked uncertainly.
“Do you want it to?” Jane countered.
“No!” Erica said quickly. “I mean, I guess, if I have to, I can see how it might be part of the thing, and . . .”
Jane stopped her before she could get too tangled in her thoughts, “Then it won't hurt. What you're going to explore is what you enjoy, and how you can enjoy it with another person. If you already know – or even sincerely believe – that pain is not something you would enjoy, then there would be no purpose in including it in your experiences.”
“Bonding experience?” Erica suggested. “Everybody else had to go through it, so I do, too?”
“No,” Jane said firmly.
“Sorry,” mumbled Erica.
“Why don't you tell me what you know about the experiential weekend?” Jane suggested. “It sounds like you might have some misapprehensions.”
“Umm. Well. You go away to a cabin or something where there are no neighbours or anything to hear the screams,” Erica began. “And then they do stuff to you, and if you're good you get to be a real member?”
“Okay,” Jane said slowly. “Technically that's true, but the implications are all wrong.” She sighed. “The first step is choosing your native guide for the weekend. It's not just some random 'they' but somebody with whom you believe you can play. Then the two of you sit in my office here and negotiate what will happen on the weekend. This helps keep you safe, since there is another responsible person who knows where you are going, when, with whom, and what you agreed to have happen. I usually don't participate in the scene negotiation per se, though you can always ask me for help. I help make sure you two have set clear boundaries with one another, and that you have safewords and, if necessary, safe signs.”
Erica nodded a little.
“Now, either before or after you and your guide sit down for the negotiation session, you'll also choose another couple to come along for the weekend. That's both another layer of safety – you're not alone with your guide, and it will never be just your word against theirs – but it also gives you somebody with whom you can talk about what's going on if you're not comfortable discussing something with your guide. The cottage is far enough from its neighbours to avoid noise complaints, but we make sure there are people to hear if you get into trouble.”
Erica nodded again, chewing her lower lip. “That seems like a lot of resources to put into each applicant . . .”
“It is, and it isn't,” Jane said with a grin. “Remember, we're all into BDSM here. In addition to being a resource for you, the support couple gets a weekend of semi-private play opportunities. Many of us jump at the chance to do that. On a more serious note, letting people have a bad experience with no recourse weakens the entire community and scares away many potential members.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Erica allowed.
“Perhaps you could tell me what attracted you to our meetings in the first place? I know we do a lot of outreach, awareness-raising work, but what made you decide to come out, and keep coming out?”
“It's dumb,” Erica demurred.
“If you're not comfortable telling me, that's okay,” Jane told her, “But I'm quite sure it's not dumb.”
“Umm. Well. Ever since I was a teenager I've had . . . thoughts . . . that made me . . . umm.”
Jane nodded patiently.
“The dumb part is that I didn't realise that it was a sexual thing. I mean, I noticed mucous down . . . there . . . but I didn't understand the connection between that and sex. Which is dumb, I know, and I'm way old enough to know better . . . “
“I imagine you know what you were taught about sexuality rather well,” Jane said. “You seem like an intelligent woman. I don't remember the teachers in my school explaining that vaginal lubrication was a sign of arousal either. A lot about safer sex, sexually transmitted diseases, but we were sort of expected to figure out the signs of female arousal for ourselves.”
Erica nodded, “Yeah. We knew about erections, of course, and even erectile tissue in the clitoris, but nothing about slimy goo!”
“I take it you didn't do a lot of experimenting with sexuality when you were younger?”
“No, none. At least, not with other people. And not that I noticed was sex. The boys scared me, and I didn't even think about sex as something that might involve another girl. I mean, if other girls were potential sex partners, we wouldn't be expected to change in the same room as them or use the same toilets, right? My parents might have wondered why there was a belt from a bathrobe tied to my headboard, but . . .”
“So bondage is something that turns you on?” Jane asked.
“Umm. I think it might. I've never actually done it, so I can't be entirely sure, of course.”
“And in these fantasies, did things lead to sexual intercourse or orgasms? For you or anybody else in them?”
Erica blushed, “Umm, no. I told you it was stupid. If that had happened, I would have noticed the whole thing was sex related and I didn't, not for years.”
Jane made her notes, as Erica turned a deeper shade of red.
“I guess . . . at a few points I did think that something like that would be the only way I could actually have sex. That I couldn't actually want it, so it would have to be somebody forcing it.”
“Did that idea turn you on?” Jane prodded gently.
“No!” Erica cried. “It scared me to death. I don't want to be forced to . . . well . . .”
“That's your right,” Jane said firmly. “You have the right not to be forced to go further than you are comfortable. You have the right to say no to sex, even if you say yes to bondage. You have the right to say no even if you are sexually aroused. If somebody ignores no, it's sexual assault . . . it's rape even if your body enjoys it. You have the right to say what happens to your body, and nobody can over-rule that.”
Erica just chewed her lower lip.
“Some women enjoy the fantasy of being forced, and that's okay, too. Some set up role-playing scenes where they can holler no as much as they want, because if they really wanted it to stop they'd use the safeword. That's fine, and nothing they should be ashamed of, but if it's not what you want then it's not something you should do.”
Erica nodded slowly.
“If you choose to go through with the experiential weekend, you will probably be tied up or restrained in some way,” Jane said. “Nobody will hurt you. Nobody will rape you. Your native guide and the support couple are there to help keep you safe.”
“I'm so scared,” Erica despaired. “I don't know if I can do it right. I don't want to mess everything up.”
“You won't,” Jane soothed. “What scares you, still?”
“Everything,” Erica admitted. “The people. My reactions. Not being able to get away. Being able to get away, and then being afraid to go back because running away was bad and bad girls get hurt. People getting mad at me for my being afraid of them.” She was shaking now, hugging herself in the wooden chair. “I know I shouldn't, because they're there to help keep me safe, but I am, and doing something wrong when you know better is even worse . . .”
Times like this, Jane reflected, she really wished she were able to walk over and give somebody a hug. “It's okay,” she said. “You're allowed to be scared. You're allowed to feel whatever you feel. It sounds like you're afraid of being punished.”
Erica nodded miserably.
“So I'll note that as another thing you should probably avoid on your experiential weekend. Some people enjoy play-punishments, but if you can't keep them separate in your mind from actually deserving abuse . . . you need to stay away from them right now.”
Erica nodded.
“The important question: Do you want to go through with the Experiential Weekend?”
“I think I do,” Erica said, hesitantly at first. “I'm scared to death, and part of me wants to run in the opposite direction, but . . . I need to do this. I'm so tired of being scared and letting that run my life . . .. But isn't that unfair to the native guide? And how do I even approach one? What do I say?”
“Are you willing to let me talk to some people about this?” Jane asked.
Erica nodded, “But, umm, do you have to tell them everything?”
“No, of course not,” Jane reassured. “I'll just give them enough information to know if they're comfortable working with you, and then they can approach you about setting up the weekend. Does that sound okay?”
“I guess,” Erica said. “I'll . . . try not to run the other direction when somebody approaches me?”
Jane grinned, “Good girl. Do you want to go back down to the social mixer, or would you rather stay up here and have a cup of tea or something to calm down?”
“Am I allowed to just hide up here?”
“Tonight? Sure. Would you like some tea? Chamomile might be good for you . . .”
“Chamomile tea would be perfect. Thank you.”
* * *
Jane laid out the criteria at the next meeting. “She thinks she's a bondage bottom. No experience in BDSM, and sounds like very little vanilla experience either. Odell was right last month; she is constantly terrified, even sitting in my office on the other side of the desk, and I'm pretty non-threatening.”
Simeon raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, I'm non-threatening except when I'm topping. In therapist-mode I'm better at non-threatening than I am at intimidating when I'm in domme mode. It's sort of the same skill set, after all.”
Simeon nodded, conceding the point.
“Pain is out, as are punishment and humiliation. There's a link in her mind between bondage and sexuality, but it's seriously weighted with fear of rape. I was thinking Mike, since I know he has no interest in hurting a woman, but he's a bit intimidating . . .”
Mike shook his head, “I'm also still with Suzanne and I don't moonlight on relationships. You know that. She's said that she'll be transferring to UCLA at the end of next summer, but until then I'm out of the mix.”
Jane nodded, “Tony, maybe?”
Tony made a face, “I'm not comfortable working with somebody who's that scared going in. Reiko and I would be glad to be the support couple, but my standard is enthusiastic consent . . . and it doesn't sound as if Erica can give that.”
“Probably not,” Jane allowed. “She can, however, give informed consent, taking into account the knowledge that she will feel uncomfortable during the process.”
Tony shrugged, “My comfort level, my call.”
Jane nodded, “Does anybody feel comfortable taking her on? I might be able to do it, but it would make me less useful to her for general counselling, and I suspect she's going to need that as she finds her balance with us.”
Talan raised his hand, “I think I might . . .” he said slowly. “Balancing the fear level is the sort of thing I do best, though usually I have to cause the fear first.” He grinned disarmingly.
Jane frowned. Talan wasn't physically imposing, but she had seen him tie submissives in emotional knots while wearing that same careless grin.
“Yes, I know,” Talan said. “I'm a reaction junkie, and I'm very good at getting a reaction. But I'm also good at keeping people on the edge of falling apart without tipping over. I've had people decide not to play with me again; who hasn't? But I never send them away until they're stable enough to handle themselves. I wouldn't be eligible to be a senior member if there were even allegations I had overstepped.” He shrugged, “I admit that I need to spend more time than most on aftercare, but I do spend that time, and I'm good at it. It sounds like Erica needs more skill there than in the actual play session.”
Jane nodded and looked around the table. Talan did seem to be the best choice available. “Are you good with Tony and Reiko for support couple?”
“Sure,” Talan said easily. “Maybe Tony can show me how to do that double column tie Reiko was wearing at the last party, too.”
“I can certainly demonstrate on you,” Tony offered. “Probably not on Erica, if she's as scared as Jane said. That tie doesn't remove as quickly if the bottom gets into trouble. Much as I love my ropes, I'm thinking cuffs and panic snaps would work best for her, at least to start.”
“Good advice, I'm sure,” Jane approved. “If she agrees, you'll do the negotiation in my office, of course. I'd suggest bringing a set of cuffs with you, either your own or from the communal storage room, so she has a chance to get used to the idea, see them, maybe touch them, before she's expected to actually wear them. I know she's older than you are, but she has far less experience. Be gentle with her.”
* * *
“I don't know you very well now,” Talan said frankly, sitting on the sofa in Jane's office, legs wide and posture open. “But if you choose me as your guide for this weekend . . . I will. Does that bother you?”
Erica bit her lip and shook her head,”I don't . . . think so? I'm sorry. Should it?”
“Not at all,” the younger man said easily. Jane had not been exaggerating about the applicant's nerves, he noted. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder reassuringly, but withdrew it smoothly when Erica flinched away, storing the reaction away for later. “Some people are shy physically; others are uncomfortable with others knowing them inside. I'm a reaction junkie, so I watch how people respond to things and use that to predict how the next thing I do will affect them. What exactly I use depends on the individual. Bondage for some, spanking for others, impossible physical challenges for others still. I'm told bondage is something you want to explore?”
Erica nodded, pulled back as far into the upholstered chair as she could, as if the chair itself were some sort of cave or refuge.
“How about other things? Are you okay with me touching you, for instance?”
“Don't hurt me?” she said, almost inaudibly.
“I'm not talking about hurting you,” Talan said. Erica did not look reassured; her pupils were dilated and her breathing was uneven. Talan softened his voice, “I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe. I know you don't feel safe right now, but I promise you are.” He glanced at Jane, who sat neutrally behind her desk; there was no help there. Talan took a deep breath.
“Erica, look at me,” Talan said calmly but firmly. Erica obeyed, sort of, eyes fixed on his shoulder rather than his face. “Good girl. Now take a deep breath. Nice and slow. That's good. Another one. Good. Now. I will not hurt you. I will not hurt you now. I will not hurt you later. I will not get angry and hurt you because you are afraid of me. Okay?”
Erica nodded slightly.
“Can I get you something? A bottle of water, maybe, or a cup of tea?”
Erica bit her lip. “I'm sorry,” she said quietly.
“It's okay,” Talan told her again. “It's okay. You didn't offend me. You're safe.”
Erica nodded a bit.
“So about that bondage,” Talan retreated to a slightly safer subject. “Tony – he's half of the support couple that will be along on the weekend – has suggested that rope is probably not a good place for you to start. I think he's probably right. Rope takes a relatively long time in close proximity to apply, and I feel like you'll feel safer if I'm not right in your personal space for a long time.”
Erica nodded again. At least her breathing had calmed a little.
“Probably what I'll want to use is wide, padded cuffs.” Talan reached forward and set a pair of neoprene-lined nylon cuffs connected with a double-ended snap hook on the table in front of Erica, then moved away from them before continuing. “If you're more comfortable with it, you can probably put them on by yourself, and even attach three of the four points to a solid object.”
“Does that even count?” Erica asked hesitantly. That she asked at all was definite progress, though.
“I think so,” Talan said. “Especially if you're doing it because I said so. Obedience to orders is part of a lot of BDSM games. And that would mean I only have to move in and actually attach the last cuff for you to be entirely immobilised.”
Erica nodded, perhaps almost looking intrigued. “But what happens then?” she asked. “When I think about this stuff, my imagination tends to cut out at that point. I kinda get too scared to think about it any more.”
Talan nodded, careful to keep his body language very gentle. “At that point, we have options. We already know I won't hurt you. I can just stand back and watch you struggle for a while before letting you go. I could, but will not, go on to have sex with you while you're tied up. I don't believe you would enjoy it, and I promise it will not happen during your experiential weekend.”
Erica nodded without withdrawing into a little ball again. Talan counted that as a win.
“Between those two extremes, though, there's a fair bit of territory. I've gotten the feeling that even gently stroking your arm would be scary for you?”
This time Erica did pull back again, and she nodded.
“But you're scared every time you come to one of our meetings. You've been scared since I walked into this room. Maybe a little bit of scary is okay?”
Talan could see Erica thinking about it. She nodded slowly.
“Okay,” Talan said. “I am not asking you to say now, 'Yes, at some point on the weekend, you can do this to me.' You don't have the experience to fully predict your reactions. What I'm asking right now is about things you know will not be okay. For instance, between your waist and knees might be off limits altogether?”
Erica nodded.
“Anywhere else you know will leave you feeling bad?”
“My neck?” Erica said uncertainly.
“Okay, I will not touch your neck. Are you okay with maybe allowing me to touch between your feet and your knees, and above the waist except for your neck?”
Erica chewed her lip some more. “Maybe. I guess so?”
Talan nodded quietly. “Remember, if you say yes here, and change it to no when we're actually facing the situation, the no stands. If you say no here, we can't change it to a yes later.”
Erica nodded, “Yes, then, I guess.”
“Good girl,” Talan approved. “I know you don't want to experience pain, and I promise you won't. How about other sensations, though? Warm, or cool?”
“I guess that would be okay,” Erica allowed.
“Sensory alterations? Things like blindfolds or white noise headphones?”
“That sounds interesting.”
“Hmm. Other things,” Talan mused. “Are you ticklish? And if so, are you okay with that?”
Erica frowned. “Umm. I was when I was little. I don't know, any more. It hasn't really happened to me. I guess I'd probably be okay with it, though?”
Talan nodded. “If it works, that would be one way for you to have motivation to struggle in the cuffs. That might be scary, or you might find it's a lot of fun. You do know you can stop anything if you need to, though?”
“Safeword?” asked Erica.
“That will work,” Talan confirmed. “Or 'red'; that's another common universal safeword. But this time out, 'no' will work, too. And 'stop' and 'back off.'”
“They will?” Erica seemed surprised.
“They'll do what they say,” Talan assured her. “If you say 'stop' I will stop what I am doing until you can tell me what needs to change or whether I can continue. 'Back off' will give you a bit more space. 'Let go' means I will release you from any restraints and give you room to get up.”
“What if I say something like, 'I'm scared'?” Erica asked.
“What do you want to happen?” Talan countered. “Do you want me to let you go? Or do you want me to slow down and take the time to tell you you're safe?”
“The latter?” Erica was almost inaudible again.
Talan nodded. “You are safe, you know. I won't hurt you, and I won't let you get hurt.”
Erica nodded.
“I imagine you'll want to keep your underwear on when we're playing,” Talan said. “But beyond that, what sort of limits are there?”
“I could bring a swimsuit?” Erica suggested. “That way, it's not really nudity or anything?”
“Sounds good to me,” Talan said. “Besides, there's a hot tub out back. Swimsuits are good for that.”
Erica nodded.
“When you're tied up, will you feel safer with Tony or Reiko in the room, or just me?”
“I . . . I don't know,” Erica stumbled. “I mean, it would be pretty embarrassing to have somebody else see me like that . . .”
“But on the other hand,” Talan offered understandingly, “it would be extra sets of eyes to make sure I don't overstep what's agreed on.”
“Yeah,” said Erica faintly.
“Perhaps we should leave the option open, and decide when each situation arises?” Talan suggested.
“That would be good,” Erica said. She leaned forward to look at the cuffs Talan had set on the table. Talan carefully did not move. “May I?” Erica asked.
“Of course,” Talan said. “No pressure, though.”
Erica picked the cuff up and examined it, the soft padding of the single layer of neoprene and the sturdy nylon webbing. The cuff was easily two inches wide. “Why so big?” she asked.
“It's gentler,” Talan reminded her. “Narrower straps are more likely to cut into the skin and get uncomfortable.”
Erica nodded, running her fingers over the neoprene lining.
“Leather cuffs are the standard image,” Talan allowed, “But synthetics are actually better for shared equipment. They're washable, and even though hot water eventually breaks down the neoprene, they'r reasonably enough priced to replace when needed. Also, some people aren't comfortable with leather because it is an animal product.”
“And I'm supposed to just put these on my wrists when I get dressed?”
“That's one way to approach it,” Talan allowed. “Or you could wait until we're actually starting a scene and put them on then, or you could let me help you on with them.”
Erica shivered a little.
“It's all about what's most comfortable for you,” Talan assured her. “Though wrist cuffs alone are not the way I'd prefer to go. At a minimum, I'd like to start you with wrist and ankle cuffs.”
“And at a . . . not minimum?” Erica asked warily.
“Adding cuffs just above your knees and just above your elbows gives more versatility.” Talan told her easily. “Of course, you would have to put on the above-the-knee cuffs yourself, since I won't touch you there.”
Erica nodded and, though Talan supposed he might be imagining it, she seemed more interested than intimidated by the talk of additional restraint points.
“A belt would add even more options,” Talan went on. “A collar . . . well, that would be on your neck, so I wouldn't mess with one of those at all.”
Erica nodded again. Maybe she was actually starting to believe that the restrictions they had discussed meant something.
* * *
Erica sat in the Tim Horton's near her building, rolling suitcase by her side and barely touched hot chocolate in front of her, fighting an almost overwhelming urge to get away from the coffee shop and out of reach before Talan arrived. Since Erica couldn't drive, she had been grateful to Talan for offering a ride up to the cottage, but at the same time she was about to close herself into a small space with a man she barely knew and let him drive her who-knows-where. Years of being told not to get into a car with a strange man warred with her knowledge that with all the advance planning and negotiation, this was probably one of the least likely situations in which a woman might be raped and left for dead. She knew, cognitively, that she was right about the safety, but her adrenal glands didn't seem to believe it; they kept pumping adrenaline into her bloodstream, telling her to run . . . and the time was still five minutes shy of when they had agreed Talan would pick her up.
“Are you doing okay?” his familiar voice asked from behind her. He must have entered through the doors near the drive through, and she had been too distracted fighting with herself to notice him coming up behind her. He put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, but this time did not pull back when she flinched. “It's okay. You're safe. May I sit down?”
Erica barely managed to nod.
Talan pulled out the steel-framed chair and had a seat beside her. Far too close, Erica thought wildly. Why wouldn't he just sit on the other side of the table, so there would at least be that barrier between them?
“Thinking about running?” Talan inquired companionably.
Erica gulped and shook her head. “No. Yes. Maybe. Anyway, I'm still here. Where could I go, anyway?”
“Well, this is a public coffee shop, so it's probably pretty safe if you chose to stay here,” the younger man reasoned. “If you needed to get further away, route 51 runs along Leslie every 15 minutes, this time of day. If nothing else, that would get you to the Eglinton subway station, and almost all the buses connect to the subway somewhere. You could have gone home before I got here, if you live nearby, but I can see how now that I am here, that would give me a chance to track you to where you live, and that might be dangerous. The Hillcrest library is only a block south; they'd let you stay until you were sure I was gone without asking any questions. If nothing else, the TD bank is still open, and I suspect they have adequate security.
Erica looked at him in shock. “Why are you doing this?”
“Mapping your escape routes for you?” Talan asked. “Because you need to do this because you chose to do it, not because you were trapped or couldn't think of a way out. Saying yes once is not enough; the answer has to keep being yes, or I can't do anything with you.”
Erica nodded, “I'm still here, though,” she pointed out. “I showed up and I didn't run and I'm scared half to death and you're way too close to me but . . . wait, I shouldn't have said that last part. I'm sorry.”
“Yes, you should have,” Talan disagreed, calmly moved to the chair on the opposite side of the table from Erica. “When you told me what was making things worse, I was able to change it. Is this better?”
“Umm, yes?” Erica said, “But I was always told that if you let people know they're bothering you . . .”
Talan sighed, “I hate that line. People tell kids to ignore somebody and they'll go away. That's bad for kids and worse for grown-ups. If you tell somebody they are harrassing you and they do it again, you press charges. You don't have to let people walk all over you.”
“Sorry,” Erica mumbled.
Talan reached out and covered her hand with his. “It's okay. Drink your coffee.”
Erica sipped her hot chocolate obediently.
“Do you want to sit here a while longer, or would you like to come out to the car now?” Talan prodded gently. “Or would you like to tell me to go away, that you've changed your mind about the weekend?”
“Part of me wants to tell you to go away,” Erica admitted. “But I don't want to want to tell you that, if that makes sense?”
“You're very brave,” Talan said. Erica looked at him in disbelief. “You are! It's easy to do stuff that doesn't scare you, and enduring something you can't control makes you a survivor, but to repeatedly choose to go forward, even when frightened? That's bravery.”
Erica shook her head, staring at the brown plastic lid covering her paper cup.
“So the part of you that doesn't want to run away screaming,” Talan teased gently, “Would that part rather stay and finish your drink, or get going?”
Erica finished her hot chocolate in a convulsive gulp, and extended the handle from her bag, “I'm ready to go,” she lied.
“Brave girl,” Talan said, picking up her empty cup to deposit it in the trash on the way out.
* * *
It was dark by the time they arrived at the cottage, but the lights were already blazing inside and a panel van with “Knot Just Macrame” blazoned on the side was in the driveway. “Tony and Reiko apparently got here first,” Talan noted. “And you look terrified again.” He lifted her suitcase from the trunk of his car.
“I'm fine,” Erica lied, hoping to convince herself.
“You are fine,” Tony agreed. “You're perfectly safe. And you look like you want to bolt for the woods.” He gestured to the trees along the long driveway.
Erica flinched visibly at the motion of his hand. “I'm sorry,” she said.
“You're fine,” Talan soothed, brushing the side of her face. “But it's getting chilly out here. Let's go inside?” He led the way up the ramp at the side of the porch, since that would be easier for Erica's rolling suitcase, and swung open the unlocked doors, holding both the oak outer door and the screen door out of the way as Erica stepped into the entrance hall. “Closet to your right. Tony and Reiko have probably claimed the upstairs bedroom – it's largest – so you can take your pick of either the one right in front of you or one of the two in the basement. End of this hall and turn right for the stairs.”
“Hey, Talan?” another voice called. “You guys finally here?” A slender man in jeans and a polo shirt followed the voice around the corner. “What took you two so long?”
Talan shrugged, “My fault, really. I should have asked you two to pick her up. You know how your parents always told you not to get into a car with a strange man?”
Erica stepped sideways, out of the path of the conversation, trying to be invisible. She already knew her hesitation had been stupid without hearing it put into words.
“It must have taken some work to convince her that you weren't strange,” the other man laughed.
“Oh, like you're one to talk,” Talan retorted. “Erica, this is Tony Nawashi. You may have caught his demo a couple of months ago? Tony is probably the best rope rigger in the club, but don't tell him I said so. He's vain enough already.”
Tony stepped forward, holding out a hand. Erica managed a half step backward before the wall stopped her. “Oh,” Tony said softly, in surprise. “That bad?”
“I'm sorry,” Erica said, completing the handshake nervously. “I'm trying not to be bad, but . . .”
“You're not bad at all,” Talan said firmly, stepping a bit closer. Erica glanced side to side frantically, feeling trapped between the two men. Talan put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, and she just froze entirely.
Tony took a step back before calling Erica's attention to himself again. “Erica? Will you trust me for a few moments?” She turned to look at him, resembling nothing so much as a deer caught in the headlights. He nodded. “Put your hands out in front of you, touching Talan's chest. It's safe. I promise.”
Erica did as she was told, shivering.
“Good girl,” Tony said. “Now push. Gently, but push against him. Tell him he's too close, and you need him to back off.” Talan started to back off on his own, but Tony caught his eye and shook his head. “Let her do it,” the older man said. “She needs to know if it will work. With me standing right here, she can be sure you won't strike back at her.” Talan nodded.
Erica pushed, almost a convulsive movement. Talan stepped back easily. “I'm sorry,” Erica said, pulling in on herself. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”
“I won't hurt you,” said Talan helplessly. “I was never going to hurt you.”
“I know,” she said, almost in tears. “I'm sorry.”
“Talan, why don't you go help Reiko in the kitchen?” Tony said, more instruction than question. “Erica, walk with me, please. We can sort out the bags later.” He walked away without seeing if the woman would follow, which made it much easier to do so. Past the stairs, Talan headed left to the kitchen, while Tony led the way into a spacious open-concept living room. He sat in the upholstered armchair, leaving Erica to sit on the sofa.
“Are you okay, Erica?” Tony asked, gazing out the large window rather than staring directly at the woman perched rigidly on the edge of the soft furniture.
“I'm . . . trying to be?” Erica said hesitantly.
Tony nodded. “You're scared half to death, but I'm confident that Talan didn't force you into his car.”
“No,” Erica said. “I chose to be here. I chose to be here when I spoke to Jane after a meeting. I chose to be here when Mr. Raptis approached me and I didn't run screaming. I chose to be here when I packed my suitcase, when I went to the coffee shop and stayed there until Mr. Raptis arrived. I chose to get into the car and . . . yeah. This is all my fault, nobody else's.”
Tony winced, “You were doing so well until that last line. It's not a fault at all. But, if you don't mind my asking, for any of those choices, did you feel good?”
“I was scared for every one of them. But I'm scared a lot, so that doesn't really signify. I didn't feel good, as you say, but I feel like it was the right decision?” Erica shrugged uncomfortably. “I know I'm being stupid about all this, and I really shouldn't be afraid, but being not-afraid isn't a real option for me.”
“I see,” Tony said, and was silent for a few minutes.
Erica slowly started to relax on the sofa, until Talan came in, carrying a tray of food. “I hope you like sushi,” he said, setting it on the coffee table. “We have Califonia rolls, futomaki, salmon and avocado rolls, and green dragon rolls,” he indicated the individual pieces.
A slight woman with long black hair followed, carrying another tray. “I have the nigiri,” she said, “Tuna, egg, salmon, and shrimp.”
Erica couldn't stop looking at the other woman's dress. It seemed to be made entirely from knotted rope. Reiko put down her tray and spun around, smiling. “Do you like it?” she asked. “Tony made it for me. It took hours standing for the fittings, but it's one of my favourites.”
The dress was cleverly designed, Erica admitted, a little more tightly knotted over where the other woman's small breasts deformed it for modesty, so it left tantalizing glimpses of the flesh underneath rather than having all of her mysteries displayed. “I could never wear anything like that!” Erica exclaimed honestly. “I don't have the figure for it.”
Reiko looked her up and down consideringly. “I don't know about that. You should see what Tony can do with a rope bra.” She giggled softly, “What he ties up will not sag, that's for sure.” Erica glanced at Tony worriedly.
“I don't think Ms. Furze would be comfortable with me putting my hands all over her at this point,” he said smoothly, picking up a tuna nigiri. “I wouldn't dream of touching her without permission.”
Erica nodded gratefully, picking up a cucumber roll and nibbling at the edge of it. Predictably, the roll fell apart, sprinkling rice across her lap. Reiko settled on the end of the sofa nearest her husband and, after considering his options for a moment, Talan grabbed a chair from the dining room to sit across the coffee table from the women. Reiko looked at him questioningly.
“Erica is having a hard time being here,” Talan explained. “The time limit on applicants forced her hand a little. She wants to try some stuff, but it scares her at the same time. And so do I.”
“It's not you . . .” Erica objected, but couldn't find a good end to that sentence.
“It's nothing personal,” Talan acknowledged. “But right now, it's late, she's been fighting her reactions a lot, and I represent the unknown.”
“Aww,” Reiko said, hugging the other woman with one arm.
Erica offered a strained smile. “I am trying,” she said, “but it's so hard sometimes.”
“Erica,” Talan said seriously, “Tonight, we're not going to try any kinky stuff at all. Would you feel better if I said that for the rest of the night, I won't touch you at all?”
Erica nodded tensely.
“Okay then,” Talan spread his arms. “You're safe.”
Tony waited until Erica excused herself to the restroom before saying to Talan, “She's only going to be twice as jumpy in the morning, you know.”
Talan made a face. “If I'm lucky she'll be only twice as jumpy. But if she's unable to relax all night, she won't sleep well, and she'll be stressed because of that, too.”
“I guess the traditional game isn't a good choice for tonight?” Reiko asked.
Talan laughed, “Jane didn't even bother to give me a set of challenge cards for Erica. She handed me a Scrabble box instead. It's in my bag.”
“Jane generally knows her business,” Tony allowed. “You two up for a game after dinner?”
“Sure,” Talan said.
“House rules?” Reiko asked brightly and, seeing Erica return. “How about you, Erica? Scrabble after dinner?”
“Umm, sure.” Erica agreed. “Scrabble is good.”
“Standard rules,” said Tony.
“What are your house rules?” Erica asked curiously.
“Oh, it's lots more fun,” Reiko gushed, ignoring Tony's look. “After each round, the person with the lowest score for that round has to remove an article of clothing.”
“Oh,” said Erica faintly. “But what if a person runs out of clothing? Are they out of the game?”
“Of course not, silly,” Reiko responded. “If you have low score and no clothing, you take the difference between your score for the round and the high score for the round and you write an IOU for that many minutes' service to the round's high scorer. Whoever wins the game gets to cash in all their IOUs at the end of the game; the other IOUs become void.”
“Standard rules,” said Tony firmly. “But if you're good, Reiko, I'll spank you later.”
Erica looked startled, but Reiko beamed.
* * *
After dinner, Erica settled herself in the first floor bedroom; Talan had opted to take one of the downstairs one, and she was told the other had storage boxes in it. Erica hadn't actually gone downstairs herself, which was what Talan had hoped would happen; the stretching rack, Saint Andrew's Cross, stocks and pillory permanently set up in the rec room would not have contributed to Erica feeling safe in the cabin, he judged.
With one person on each side of the dining table and a game on which to concentrate, Erica settled down over the course of the evening. After the first game, Tony took Reiko back to the sofa for a bare-bottomed over-the-knee spanking, and Talan noticed that Erica did flinch each time the hand made contact, but Reiko was so happy about it that Erica calmed back down sooner than the other woman did; Reiko was still rubbing her legs together in excitement halfway through the next round. During the following between-rounds treat for Reiko, Talan edged his chair a bit closer to the corner between his side of the table and Erica's.”
“He wouldn't do that to you,” Talan said softly.
Erica jumped, startled. “What?”
“The spanking,” Talan clarified. “Even if Tony were to play with you, which he has made very clear that he will not do without your enthusiastic consent, he wouldn't want to spank you. Tony's more of a pure bondage top; he does other stuff because it makes his wife happy. And probably because it turns her on, which can be a useful thing to do in conjugal relationships.”
“Oh,” said Erica faintly.
“He doesn't have any interest in playing with fear or discomfort.” Talan smiled disarmingly, “That's why you're stuck with me.”
“She's not stuck with you,” Tony corrected, returning to his seat. “You were the best match available for her needs.”
Reiko hugged Erica's shoulders as she passed behind the other woman to reach her own place. “Talan's lots of fun, really,” she said.
Erica reflected that this would make her feel a lot better if the same woman hadn't previously declared that nudity and “service” for the losers made Scrabble more fun. She rearranged the tiles on her rack in alphabetical order. A B D E G N O.
“It's your turn to play first,” reminded Talan, to her left.
Erica fidgeted with her tiles some more. Bog? There had to be something better than that. B O G A D E N O. Hmm. B O N D A G E. It was sitting right there on her rack, but did she dare put it on the board? If the O were another A she wouldn't hesitate. Telling herself not to be an idiot, she carefully placed the B on the Double Letter Score above the centre space and spelled the word.
“That's the spirit!” cheered Reiko. Erica blushed, and Reiko reached out to pat her hand. “It's okay, hon. You'll feel much better after you're all tied up tomorrow. It always relaxes me.”
Somehow, Erica made it through the rest of the game, and the one that followed. Four rounds, so each person would have the advantage of starting first in one game. General agreement saw everybody head to bed, but despite a long, hot shower to relax, Erica couldn't seem to get to sleep. After tossing and turning for some time, she gave up and switched on the bedside lamp to do some reading. Less than a chapter later, there was a soft tapping on her bedroom door.
Erica walked to the door and opened it a crack, the push-button lock popping open as she did so. To her surprise, it was Reiko outside the room.
“Can't sleep?” Reiko asked. Erica shook her head. “Tony sort of thought that might be the case. Will you join us in the kitchen for a midnight snack? He makes really good hot chocolate.”
“I guess . . .” Erica agreed, acutely aware of how her her choppy wet hair compaired to Reiko's long, straight black, her flannel nightgown compared to the drapey silk Reiko was wearing, and also of the differences in the bodies beneath. Reiko was all lithe muscles, while Erica's body showed the fitness effects of a job doing data entry. Erica added the bathrobe that had been hanging on the back of the door, just to have another layer to cover the shame of her body, before following the other woman back to the kitchen.
Reiko sat un-self-consciously at the counter topping the half-wall separating the kitchen stove from the dining room, and Erica climbed onto a barstool one removed, leaving the centre stool empty between them, and an empty stool to each end of the row. Tony looked up from where he was puttering with a pot of hot milk on the stove.
“You know,” Tony said mildly, “If I decide to come sit on that side of the counter, two of the three open stools are now directly beside you.”
Erica shivered, her shoulders rising involuntarily until the shawl collar on the bathrobe offered additional warmth to her ears.
Tony sighed, “You're terrified, aren't you? Too scared about tomorrow to sleep?”
Erica nodded.
“Would you like to talk about it?” Tony offered.
“What's to talk about?” Erica asked. “I know it's unreasonable to be frightened, that there are several layers of measures that make this safer than going to a singles bar, and that I'm completely in the wrong for feeling this way.” She worried at her unvarnished fingernails. “Probably the most dangerous thing I could do is offend Mr. Raptis by showing that I'm afraid of him. He won't hurt me in play.”
“Who told you that?” asked Tony sharply.
“He did?” Erica squeaked. “And, umm, Ms Leventhal? And that was negotiated in her office? That he wouldn't hurt me in play?”
“Not that part,” he spoke more gently this time. “The part about offending him, about letting him know how scared you are being dangerous?”
“It's . . . just common sense?” Erica said uncertainly. “Sort of like, 'if you're going to cry, I'll give you something to cry about,' except with fear?”
“Talan won't be offended if you're afraid of him, though,” Reiko chimed in. “He likes that sort of thing.”
“First off,” Tony said, “that is a lousy rule that only leads to abuse. You can't be forbidden to feel whatever you feel; that just doesn't make sense. Emotions are not under our conscious control. Secondly, though I might have phrased it differently, Reiko is right. Talan is the last person to be offended by showing fear of him.”
“He wants people to be afraid of him?” Erica asked.
“He likes role playing an evil villain, doing unexpected things to keep a sub guessing. He loves it when they get nervous and tied in knots.”
“He's really good at not going over the edge, too,” Reiko said. “I was his native guide when he applied to the Alphonse Francois Society. He was really evil, and kept me guessing, but never pushed it to the point where I really felt unsafe.”
“Part of that,” Tony noted, “is because you weren't trying to lock down your nervous reactions. He could see how much he was making you squirm. Though we should note that he also passed the two test items we have for doms.”
“Test items?” Erica inquired. Was there some sort of test this weekend that she was going to fail without even knowing it was a test?
“Safeword stop and negotiation fidelity,” Reiko said. “I had to use a safeword at least once to make sure he could be trusted to stop when he was told to stop, and I had to agree to – actually, beg for – something that had been a 'no' in the negotiation phase. A lot of tops fail that last one and have to be re-educated before being given full membership.”
“It frustrated her at the time,” Tony recalled with a grin. “She had agreed to sexual teasing, but not to penetration of any sort. When she got home from the weekend, I had to make up for lost time. Not the worst evening of my life, I admit.”
Reiko stuck out her tongue at her husband, who reached across the counter to ruffle her hair.
“Anyway,” Tony said, whisking cocoa powder into the sweetened milk, “Talan is definitely a safe play partner, and he's usually good at adjusting to keep his partners from being completely terrified, but he's not used to somebody who is genuinely frightened and trying to hide it. You remember when I told you to push him away in the hallway?”
Erica nodded.
“What did you think would happen, when you did that?”
“I . . . umm . . . I figured he'd get mad and either push back, or stomp off and be mad and next time I saw him he'd remember that.”
“Did you think he'd get upset and pin you to the wall?” Tony asked, “Or find a way to accidentally-on-purpose hurt you later?”
“I don't know,” Erica said. “Either. Both. I'm sorry.”
Tony ignored the apology, this time. “What actually happened when you pushed him?”
“He stepped back? He said he wasn't going to hurt me.”
“Why?” Tony probed.
“Umm. Because you were right there?”
“You know better than that,” Tony chided gently, pouring the completed cocoa into three mugs and topping each with a large marshmallow.
“Because he actually wasn't going to hurt me, and it was unreasonable of me to make him back off, but he's just a nice guy?”
“Closer,” Tony allowed at the same time Reiko asserted, “He's not a nice guy! He's evil!”
“Reiko,” Tony said, “Get your brain out of play-mode. Ms. Furze is having enough trouble feeling safe without you confusing matters by using words that sound unpleasant to her to mean things you enjoy.”
Reiko pouted, “Oh, okay. But why do you keep calling her Ms Furze? Her name's Erica. Aren't we all friends here?”
“For the same reason she calls Talan Mr. Raptis and me Mr. Niwashi,” Tony explained. “Ms. Furze seems to feel that the formality of surnames is a little easier than the intimacy of given names, and if she's not comfortable with that intimacy, I don't want to force it on her.”
“He can call you Erica, can't he?” Reiko asked the other woman.
“Umm, I guess,” Erica stuttered, put on the spot.
“Only if you're comfortable calling me Tony,” Tony countered. “But I hardly think that's the biggest issue right now.” He walked around the angled counter to take the stool from beside Reiko and returned to the kitchen with it, sitting at the stove with his hot cocoa rather than threatening Erica's space. “You said that thinking about tomorrow scared you so much you couldn't get to sleep.”
“She'll be fine once she's properly tied down,” Reiko argued.
“Will you?” Tony asked Erica directly.
“I don't know!” Erica protested. “Maybe? Reiko seems confident.”
“Much as I love Reiko,” Tony pointed out, “she is hardly a reasonable control group when feelings about bondage come up. Maybe you could tell me what feels scariest when you think about it?”
“Umm, well. Talan? And not being able to get away, and he can put his hands all over me and . . .”
“Can he?” Tony asked. “Did Jane really let you sit in her office and put no restrictions on where and how he could touch you?”
“No,” Erica admitted. “I'm sorry. You're right. But I got so scared in the hall, just with one hand on my shoulder . . . I'm afraid of how I will react when it's more than that.”
“Hmm,” Tony considered. “If I'm correct, part of the feedback loop I saw you get caught in was 'I want to run away but if I run away I will get hurt so I need to run but if I run I'll get hurt.' Is that fair?”
Erica nodded.
“In that case, Reiko might not be entirely wrong,” Tony allowed. “Being physically unable to run away might help because you won't be fighting yourself in addition to feeling frightened. You're not exactly gentle with yourself when you decide what you're feeling is not allowed.”
Erica nodded thoughtfully.
“The best advice I can give you is not to fight it, if you're afraid,” Tony advised seriously. “Talan can and will help you manage it, if you let him, but if you hide your reactions from him, he doesn't have anything to go on.”
“Have you given any thought to what you're wearing?” Reiko asked.
“Well, we discussed it. Not nudity. I brought a swimsuit.”'
Reiko nodded, “Are you going to be okay being tied down for the first time in nothing but a swimsuit? Or is it going to be like the girl in the song? 'She was afraid to come out of the lockers . . .'”
“Do I have a choice?” Erica asked. “I already agreed to it.”
“Don't you get it yet?” Reiko asked. “You always have a choice. I'm pretty sure, knowing Talan and Jane were both there, that you agreed to 'nothing less than a swimsuit' rather than 'nothing more than a swimsuit.'”
“If I may suggest?” Tony put in. Erica nodded. “Wear the swimsuit, but dress in layers. Maybe a t-shirt and shorts over it, and pants and a sweater over that?”
“It's October,” Erica pointed out. “I didn't bring shorts. Actually, I don't own any shorts. I don't have the figure for that sort of thing.”
Reiko giggled, “It's not about your figure,” she said. “It's about exposed, sensitive skin.” The other woman shivered. “And all the delicious things a person can make it feel.”
“Umm,” said Erica, embarrassed. “Well, still didn't bring any shorts. But the rest, the layers, that seems like a good idea.”
“Sounding a bit more manageable?” Tony asked gently.
“Maybe,” Erica said. “I still wish I knew what would happen. Every time I try to imagine what he might do, I get so scared that my imagination cuts out.”
“You have a safeword?” Tony reminded.
“No,” said Erica.
“You don't have a safeword?” Reiko asked, shocked.
“Erica ummed again, “No is the safeword. And stop, and other stuff that just means what it means.”
“That's a good choice,” Tony approved. “Don't be afraid to use them if you need them. Or even if you feel like you might need them. Or if you want them. One of the most important things for you to learn this weekend is that you have all the control you need in order to keep yourself safe.”
“I'm failing so far, aren't I?” Erica asked ruefully.
“To be honest?” Tony asked. “If I thought there were anywhere else you could safely learn confidence and to communicate with your partner, I would argue strongly against approving your membership at all. As things are, though . . . I think you're better advised to stay at Alphonse Francois Society events than try to manage on your own. And given how much fear you're putting up with to join, I don't think you'd just stay home and stick to vanilla from now on.”
“Not that vanilla is safe, either,” Erica muttered under her breath.
Tony nodded, “No, vanilla isn't safe either. At least in kinky communities we talk about good consent and non-consent. And if you stick with us long enough, you might even learn to give good consent!”
Erica finished her hot chocolate. “I think I need to go back to bed now. Thank you.”
* * *
Erica dressed carefully the next morning. Swimsuit first. A pair of stretchy yoga pants and a red ribbed t-shirt over that. White crew socks with grey heel and toes, and happy faces knit into the cuffs. Blue jeans with a braided elastic belt. A shapeless cotton sweater. Black lace-up walking shoes. All that was left was to open the door and leave the room. Erica sat back down on the bed. She stood up again and re-folded all the clothing in her suitcase. She combed her hair again. She called herself seven kinds of coward and opened the door. She decided to use the restroom one door down, and then had to fight with herself to leave that room, too. Was Reiko right that it would be easier once she was tied down?
By the time Erica made it to the kitchen, Tony was sitting in the seat she had used the previous night and Reiko was where she had been before. Talan stood behind the stove, the counters to either side spread with ingredients: an open carton of eggs, a pile of grated cheese, chopped onions, chopped peppers, sliced mushrooms, fresh spinach, and dishes of crumbled bacon and sausage.
“Good morning!” Talan called. “I'm doing omelettes for breakfast.” He folded half the egg in the pan over a pile of fresh spinach, onion, mushroom and cheddar. “You're third in line, so think about what you want in it.” He slid the omelette onto a plate and set it in front of Tony. “Cuffs are on the table; you might want to put them on now.”
“Huh?” Erica responded intelligently.
“The dining room table,” Talan clarified, “Where we played Scrabble last night.”
Erica looked. There were indeed eight cuffs on the table, much like the pair she had seen in Jane's office.
“The smallest pair is for your wrists, of course. The next smallest is ankles, then upper arms, and finally thighs.”
“Now?” Erica questioned, her mind racing.
“Sure,” said Talan, and paused in beating Reiko's eggs to meet Erica's eyes, though he stayed on his side of the counter. “Cuffs are just things, Erica. They may seem like a big step, but they don't do anything alone. I think it will be easier for you if you put them on now and wear them for a little while before anything is attached to them.”
Even with the physical barrier and several metres between them, having Talan's full attention on her was intimidating for Erica. She had no idea how she was going to survive the actual session. Erica ducked her head and started fastening the wrist cuffs onto herself, then sat down to do the ankles. The upper arms were more challenging, as Erica had trouble getting a proper angle on the buckles, but Reiko cheerfully helped fasten them over the bulky cotton sweater.
“If you strip down later, you can always take off the cuffs first. I'm sure Talan would be willing to put them back on you, if I'm not around.”
Erica tried not to think too hard about that possibility. She could have handled the cuffs that attached just above her knees independently, but Reiko insisted on being allowed to do it. It was easier to go along with her than argue, and at least it wasn't Tony or Talan kneeling in front of her with their hands mere centimetres from her skin.
“Your turn, Erica!” Talan called. Erica gulped. “What would you like in your omelette?”
“Oh,” said Erica, trying to catch her mental balance. “I'm not very hungry right now . . .”
Talan raised an eyebrow questioningly. Tony turned to look at her. Erica wanted to melt through the floor.
“Are you okay, Erica?” Talan asked in concern.
“I'm fine,” Erica said automatically, and then caught Tony's look. Right. Don't not tell him when you're scared. “I should be fine, anyway. I'm scared. My stomach is so full of butterflies that there's no room for food.”
“What are you afraid of?” Talan asked, genuinely puzzled. “It's just an omelette. Or I could make you scrambled eggs, if you prefer?”
“It's not about breakfast!” Erica cried. “It's what comes after . . .”
“After breakfast I clean up the kitchen,” Talan said. “After that, I can spend some time playing with you.”
“Yeah,” Erica whispered. “That.”
“Oh,” said Talan. “I see. I thought you wanted to experiment with stuff?”
“I do!” exclaimed Erica. “Except that I want to be anywhere other than here, I want to run away and never come back, I'm so scared. And I want to try stuff but I don't know if I can handle it and I don't want to screw everything up and . . .”
“Talan,” Tony interrupted softly. “Reiko and I will clean up the kitchen. You go tend to your partner.”
Talan nodded, removing the apron and setting it on the counter before walking around the barrier between kitchen and dining room. He crouched in front of the chair where Erica was still sitting, his face just below her eye level.
“Erica,” he said, speaking softly but firmly, “I'm not going to hurt you. You are not going to mess everything up. You're safe. I am going to do things to you that you can enjoy having done. It won't be more than you can handle. If you feel like it is, you can tell me to stop or back off.” He lifted a hand and brushed tears from her cheek with the side of a single finger, moving slowly but confidently. “You're safe,” he repeated when she flinched. “I won't hurt you. I won't let you get hurt.”
If Talan had been larger, or Erica smaller, he might have picked her up to cuddle her. As it was, he stood slowly, drawing Erica to her feet at the same time. “Come over to the sofa and just sit with me for a while,” he coaxed.
Erica obeyed hesitantly, fighting the belief that if she didn't comply she would be made to regret it. He had promised not to hurt her. As long as she was good, then . . . no, she corrected herself. He had said that he wouldn't hurt her, not that he wouldn't hurt her as long as she was good. Gathering her few remaining shreds of courage she paused halfway across the living room and asked, “Do I have to?”
Talan stopped and turned to face the woman he was supposed to be partnering. She was pale and trembling, pupils dilated until her irises were nearly invisible. He couldn't get this intensity of reaction when at his most evil, and now he was trying desperately to reduce it. He answered seriously, “No, you do not have to come with me. You do not have to sit on the couch with me. And I still won't hurt you. You're safe with me, and if you need me to go away you have the words to do that, too.”
Erica nodded shakily. “I'm sorry. I just get so scared.”
“It's okay,” Talan assured her, pulling her gently over to the sofa. “I know you're scared. I promise that I will be as gentle with you as I can.” He guided her to sit, slipped an arm around her shoulders, and held her gently.
Erica's body was rigid beside him, not resisting but anything but relaxed. He stroked her hair gently and she whimpered softly.
“You're safe,” he said, softly. “You can pull away any time, and that's safe, too. Or you can tell me to stop and I will. And if you relax? You'll still be safe.”
Erica nodded, her muscles relaxing marginally.
“Would you like to talk about what has you so frightened?” Talan offered gently.
“I don't know,” Erica answered, letting herself lean against him. The touch was not painful, and he had promised that the arm around her would not keep her trapped if she tried to get away.
“You don't know if you want to talk about it?” Talan probed gently.
“I don't know what I'm afraid of,” Erica said. “I don't know what you're going to do to me. I don't know if I can take it, or if I'll do something wrong. I don't know anything!”
“Ah.” Talan stroked her hair quietly for a few minutes, thinking. “Would you like to talk about what might happen in the scene?”
“Do you two need anything?” Tony interrupted, shirt cuffs still damp from washing the dishes. Erica tensed up again, and Talan squeezed her shoulders gently.
“Would you mind bringing up some equipment for me?” Talan asked, keeping his tone of voice gentle to avoid startling his partner.
“No problem,” Tony said. “What do you need?”
“Umm. The Dolphin 2, the box of panic snaps, and the large cable ties, I think.”
Tony nodded and disappeared down the basement stairs.
“I won't hurt you,” Talan reminded Erica softly.
“What are you going to do to me?” Erica barely dared ask.
“The Dolphin 2 is sold as a massage chair,” Talan explained patiently. “You'll be sitting with your back exposed, face supported by a ring-shaped pad. I'm going to use panic snaps to attach you to its frame. You will be able to pull against the restraints, but you won't be able to get away.”
Erica nodded.
“If you actually want to get away,” Talan went on, “all you need to do is tell me. If you say, 'Talan, let me go,' I will release you. And I will not be angry. I will ask you to sit down with me and talk about what happened, but you won't have to do that if you don't want to. If you need to run back to your bedroom and lock yourself in, I won't follow you. I will wait until you feel safe enough to come out and talk to me. And I still won't be mad, even if it takes all weekend.”
“What if I don't?” Erica asked in a small voice.
“What if you don't come out of the bedroom?” Talan asked.
Erica ducked her head again, sheltering it between her shoulders. “What if I don't say to let me go?”
“Ahhh,” Talan said softly, continuing with the gentle stroking of Erica's hair until she relaxed marginally. “If you don't ask me to stop, you'll still be safe and under my protection. I still won't hurt you. I'll check in with you to make sure you're doing okay.” He waited until Erica nodded again. “If you're okay with me touching you while you're bound that way, I was thinking that a backrub would be a reasonable place to start.” He could feel Erica shiver a little, but she didn't say anything to object. He just held her quietly until Tony returned with a clanking duffel bag and the folded massage chair.
Erica pulled away as Tony re-entered the room, and Talan let her go easily. She stared at the clanking bag and the curved black steel tube and blue padding that was the folded down massage chair.
“Would you like me to set it up, too?” Tony asked.
“Nah, I can do it,” Talan said, looking at Erica. “Are you okay?”
Erica nodded, unable to take her eyes off the equipment. Clearly, bringing it upstairs rather than taking her downstairs was a good decision. The open living room with its light hardwood floor and large windows had to be far less intimidating than the faux-stone lined dungeon downstairs.
Talan knelt beside the massage chair, unfolding the padded straps, and folded the seat out of the way before extending the chest plate, telescoping the curved tube upwards. He swivelled the arm rests forward, pushing the chest plate down to a more vertical position. He tilted the face rest to a more natural angle, then extended and folded down the seat and made sure all the locking levers were secured. Erica uneasily watched the increasing mass of tubes that continued to look unlike a chair.
“Okay,” Talan invited, still standing beside it. “Come have a seat.”
Erica goggled at the assemblage of tubes and angled pads. “Umm,” she said nervously. “How?”
Talan blinked at her, then looked at the fully assembled massage chair again. He smiled softly, “Okay. I guess it's not intuitively obvious. Like this.” Talan rested his backside on the downward sloping seat pad, kneeling on the knee pad and resting his chest against the mostly vertical pad in front of him. He put his face in the cupping cushion for a moment before getting up. “Your turn,” he invited firmly.
Erica slowly stood up from the couch and walked toward the device. She touched the seat pad with the tips of her fingers and looked at Talan almost pleadingly.
“You don't have to,” he answered her unspoken question. “You're safe either way. But this is an experience you wanted to have.”
Erica nodded and knelt on the knee pads gingerly, sitting back on the seat pad and bracing herself upright with forearms on the chest pad.. “You're going to tie me to this thing?”
“Sort of,” Talan said, reaching for the duffel bag and taking out a small mass of bronze. “Have you ever seen one of these before? It's called a panic snap.”
Erica looked. There was a ring on one end, an an ovoid collar above that catching three curved pieces, two fixed and the other swivelling freely between them. Talan showed her how pulling down on the collar released the central bar, setting whatever they were holding free.
“With a normal snap, like on a dog leash, you need to have some slack to get the hook of the snap out of the ring it's attached to,” Talan explained. “These will release even under pressure.”
Erica nodded her understanding.
“I'm going to use these cable ties to attach the panic snaps more or less loosely to the chair, then attach the panic snaps to your cuffs. The ones on your wrists I will leave loose enough that one hand can release the other, if you need to.” Talan matched deeds to words, attaching two long cable ties around the curved central bar of the massage chair around the level of the arm rests, threading each through the fixed eye of a panic snap. Kneeling, he did the same just in front of and behind the knee rest.
“Are you doing okay?” Talan asked, and Erica nodded tightly. “Remember, you're perfectly safe. I won't hurt you.” Moving slowly and deliberately, he attached the panic snaps first to the cuffs above her knees, then to the ones at her ankles, and pulled the loose end of the cable tie until it snugged up with a soft zipping sound. He stood up and looked at his partner. Though Erica couldn't meet his eyes, she wasn't visibly panicking.
“It's time to lean forward now,” he told her softly, touching her upper arm gently. “Just rest your arms on the arm rest here, and let the chest pad support you in front.”
Erica leaned forward gingerly, placing her arms where she was told. Talan ran the hand that had been touching her down her arm to the wrist cuff.
“You're safe,” he told her again, attaching a panic snap to one wrist cuff and then the other. He snugged the cable ties only part way, leaving enough play in them that she could release herself if she needed to. “You're trapped, and you can't get away, and that means it's now my job to keep you safe, not yours.”
Erica shivered, almost whimpering softly.
“It's okay,” Talan told her compassionately. “You don't have to fight to keep yourself under control. I saw how hard you were working to not run away. Now you can't. Just let it go.”
“I can't,” Erica said, breathing hard. “I can't just let it go.”
“Why not?”
“I might do something wrong. And people will get mad. And I'll get hurt. And I'll deserve it, because I did something wrong.”
“You won't do anything wrong,” Talan insisted gently. “You can't do anything, so you can't do anything wrong.”
“I'm scared,” Erica said.
“I know,” Talan told her. “But you're safe.” He knelt in front of the massage chair and gently took her hands in his own. Her hands were cold, and he automatically checked the cuffs, but the restraints were not on too tightly.
Gently, Talan guided Erica's left hand to the collar of the panic snap on the right, shaping her fingers around it. “You remember how these work. What do you think would happen if you released yourself right now?”
“It would come off?” Erica asked hesitantly.
“Yes,” Talan confirmed. “And how would you feel then?”
“Scared,” Erica replied promptly.
“Why scared?” Talan prodded gently.
“Because I shouldn't. Because if I need to get away I should ask you. Because it would mean I wasn't trusting you right,” Erica spoke so quickly that the words began falling over one another. “And you'd be offended. And angry maybe. And men who are angry just. Just. On whoever is there. And I'd still be here. Because I couldn't get away fast enough. And where would I go? And if I ran you'd be angrier. And . . . and. I'm sorry.”
Talan considered the situation. Erica was clearly struggling internally, and there was an argument for ending the scene here due to her evident real distress. On the other hand, she was talking to him now, letting him inside her head rather than trying to hide within herself. Did that itself indicate more trust, maybe feeling safer despite the fact that her current feelings of safety were pretty minimal? The only times he had gotten a sub this close to the edge before, he had been doing something that he could back away from. This time, all he could do was offer support as her own psyche did the damage. It occurred to Talan that he might be in over his head.
“It's okay, Erica,” he soothed. “I'm not mad at you. You're safe. You're right that all you have to do is ask me to let you go. But you could also release yourself, and that would be safe, too. Or you can choose not to do that. You can fight the restraints and they're just things; they won't be offended. I know you're frightened, and I'm not offended. I am worried for you, and I want to help you feel better, but I am not offended or angry.”
Erica nodded tensely.
“At this point, I'm going to give you three options. Taking any of them is okay, and none of them will result in you getting hurt. Do you understand?”
Erica nodded again.
“I can let you go, and you can take some time to yourself until lunch. Maybe you and Reiko could go for a walk, or something. Option two is that we move on to the back rub we discussed. It won't hurt, and a back rub can help relax muscular tension. Option three is that we take a few minutes to do some basic relaxation exercises to clear some of the fear from your system, then revisit these three choices. The relaxation exercises in option three will not involve me touching you.”
Erica hesitated. “Three?” she said tentatively.
“Good choice,” Talan approved and disengaged his hands from hers. “Now, breathe out all the way. Good. Take a slow, deep breath through your nose, and breathe out through your nose. Again.” He walked her through several more repetitions of the breathing exercise, racking his brain for the rest of the progressive relaxation sequence. It had been a while since his workplace had hosted the stress management consultant and made everybody lose a half day's work, and he hadn't been paying full attention at the time, anyhow.
“You're doing fine,” Talan assured Erica. Her breathing was more even now, and she didn't seem quite as rigid. “Now I want you to focus only on your toes. Tense them up, as hard as you can. Harder . . . now relax them. Next the arches of your feet. Tense . . . and relax.” He worked slowly upwards, only his voice touching her as she went through the sequence over her entire body, one muscle group at a time. After reaching the forehead, he took a breath himself. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“I'm . . . mostly okay,” Erica said, sounding surprised.
“Good,” approved Talan. “I want you to try one more thing before we go back to the decision point. Remember that you are safe, here.”
“Okay,” Erica said warily.
“Good girl. Now just stretch a little. I know you can't get very far, but just move until the cuffs stop you.” Talan watched carefully for signs of distress. “Good girl. Just pay attention to how it feels to reach the end of your free movement. Excellent. Are you still okay?”
“Yeah,” Erica still sounded surprised, and perhaps a little more relaxed than she had before exploring the limits of her movement. Talan breathed a sigh of relief that his addition hadn't broken her again. It had been a calculated risk, but he had thought it necessary.
“Decision time,” he said cheerfully. “Would you like me to let you go now, or would you like that back rub I promised you? Either response is safe.” This time Erica did tense up again. More gently, he said, “Option one, I let you go. Option two, we try a back rub. Either way, nobody gets angry and nobody gets hurt.”
“Two?”
Talan bit his lip and nodded. Why couldn't she just take the easy way out? Probably for the same reason she was here rather than walking away from the Alphonse Francois Society when pushed to choose. He had left the decision open for her, though.
“Okay. This one is going to involve me touching you again,” he said as he walked around behind her, giving her a chance to track his movement by his voice. “Would you be okay with me removing this sweater from your back? Either answer is okay.”
“I . . . guess so?” There was no confidence in Erica's voice, but Talan had not expected a lot; if the sweater had not been so bulky, he would have just left it be and not mentioned the possibility.
Smoothly Talan took hold of the hem of the sweater and lifted it over her head, the back of the garment almost forming a hood around her head. From shoulder to waist, the lighter weight red t-shirt was revealed, but the sweater still covered her arms and most of her front. “Are you okay with this?” he checked in with his partner.
“Yeah,” she responded. It was hard to judge from monosyllables, but she sounded okay, too. Stepping back into a lunge position, Talan placed his hands to either side of her spine, just above the kidneys, and she jumped and made a small sound.
“What's wrong?” Talan asked, leaving his hands in gentle contact with her t-shirt.
“I'm sorry,” Erica said. “I just . . . didn't expect you to start way down there.”
“Ah,” said Talan, “Yeah. For best effect, a backrub should start low and move up. Are you okay with that?”
“I guess,” Erica said. Her body said she was lying, but if he didn't listen to her when she said what she thought he wanted to hear, would she trust him to listen when she said the opposite? She wasn't tense enough for him to believe that she would take emotional damage from him continuing, so over-riding her stated opinion would probably not be helpful. He slid his hands slowly up to Erica's shoulder blades. “Is this okay? Do you need more pressure? Less?”
“I guess it's okay?” Erica responded.
Talan turned his hands so that his fingers faced out toward the ribcage, pulling his hands lightly down her back. Erica squirmed a little and he asked, “Problem?”
“Tickles a little,” Erica told him. “Sorry.”
Talan nodded to himself, filing that information away until later. “I'm sorry,” he said, rocking his weight forward a bit further to increase the pressure. Reaching the bottom of Erica's back again, he laid his thumbs alongside the spine. Each thumb traced a tight spiral going up along the sides of the spine, never putting pressure on the bony process itself. She whimpered softly as a particularly tight knot released, and he reassured her, “It's okay. I won't hurt you. It's just your muscles letting go of tension, and that's good. You don't need to be tense. You're safe.” He worked his way in small circles up to her shoulder blades and across the muscles there.
Finding tense muscles wasn't at all difficult; it seemed like each new muscle group tensed up as he touched it. Actually getting them to relax was harder. Gently he ran his hands back down to her lower back to repeat the sequence, a little firmer now that the muscles were warmed up by the first repetition. “Easy, Erica,” he said. “I know you're still having a hard time, but it's okay. I'm just repeating the same sequence, so you do know what to expect. And you can still tell me to stop any time.” This time her muscles did seem to ease under his circling thumbs, and by the third repetition she was actually seeming to enjoy it, letting the chest pad take more of her weight and her arms hang looser on the arm pad. He finished up with hands running gently down her back, moving off it completely before they reached the waist.
“How are you feeling?” he asked gently.
“Actually,” Erica said, rolling her shoulders, “I feel pretty good. Thank you.”
“Excellent,” Talan said. “I'm going to let you go now, so you may feel a bit of extra pressure on the cuffs. It's nothing to worry about.” He released the ankle cuffs first, then the ones above her knees. He moved around front to release her wrists and gently flipped the body of Erica's sweater back over her head to cover her back again. “I'm going to back away now. I'll be just over on the sofa. You can get up whenever you're ready.”
It took her a few moments, and Erica was a little shaky when she stood, but she walked over to the chair rather than running for her bedroom.
“How are you doing?” Talan asked her quietly. “Was it what you expected?”
“I'm okay,” Erica said, and she really seemed to be. I . . . didn't expect to panic that way. I'm sorry.”
“It happens sometimes,” Talan assured her. “We got through it. You did fine.”
Erica shook her head, not looking at him.
“You did,” Talan insisted. “You were scared, but you told me what was wrong, and you were able to let me help fix it. Everybody will run into unexpected triggers sooner or later. It's how you deal with them that matters.”
Erica nodded a little.
Talan smiled as unthreateningly as he could, “Thank you for trusting me to help you through it.”
“Did I really have a choice?” Erica asked rhetorically.
“You did,” Talan told her. “You always had the option to say, 'Stop, let me go, get away from me.' But even if you were too afraid of me in the moment . . . ?”
Erica nodded a little,
“Even then, you had points where all you had to say to get out of it was nothing, or 'one' instead of 'two' or 'three'. You chose to stay, and trust me to get you through it, and I am honoured that you would do so.”
Erica looked embarrassed, and Talan let the silence stretch a few moments to see if she would say anything.
“Is there anything you'd like to talk about right now?” Talan prompted when the silence started to get uncomfortable. Erica just shook her head. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah . . .” said Erica uncertainly. “I just need time to think about it, okay?”
“Okay,” said Talan easily. “You probably also need some food and drink. You haven't eaten yet today.”
“Sorry,” Erica said reflexively.
“I know,” Talan said, “but you're fine. I'm going to get up now and grab you a glass of water and a granola bar, okay?” When Erica nodded, he stood slowly and moved to the kitchen, grabbing a dark chocolate cherry granola bar from the cupboard and filling two glasses with cool water, then setting them on the table between Erica's chair and the sofa. When he sat again, it was at the end of the sofa closest to the chair. Talan sipped patiently from one of the glasses of water, waiting until Erica had torn open the wrapper and had at least a couple of bites of food in her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
Erica swallowed her bite of granola bar. “Still like I messed up.”
Talan nodded, “You were disappointed in the way things went?”
“I'm angry that I lost control when nothing that should have been scary was happening to me.”
Talan considered that. Two problems lurked in that statement; would it to be better to address “should have felt” or “control” first. Deciding, he asked, “Do you really want to be in control, in a bondage situation?”
“I should at least be able to control myself?”
“Hmm,” Talan considered. The “should feel” issue again. “A lot of people like bondage because it means not having to control themselves. They get to let go and feel and react to what's happening to them. That's not to say that you need to feel the same way, but you might want to consider if that's something you'd like to try.”
Erica chewed her granola bar thoughtfully. “I don't know whether I could?”
“Did you feel safe when you were restrained?”
Erica took another bite to buy time. “I don't know. I was caught up in the worry that I was going to do something wrong for a long time. I didn't feel safe then, but I don't think it was because of the bondage?”
“Okay,” Talan allowed. “When you had done the breathing exercises and I asked you to pull against the restraints, to see how far you could go, how did that feel?”
“Umm. Not bad?” Erica said.
“Was that part scary?” Talan clarified.
“No,” Erica told him more confidently.
“So the scary part was having me there, not being sure what I would do to you?” Talan asked, watching her face for a more honest answer than she would probably give in words. The minute nod she offered told him less than the way her shoulders raised to protect her head and the tension throughout her body. “Were you afraid I was going to punish you for something?” Another minute motion of her head. “For what?”
“For being afraid even after you said you wouldn't hurt me?” she tried.
“So you were afraid of being afraid after you were told you didn't need to be afraid?” Talan rephrased. It did actually fit what he had seen fairly well.
“I know. It's dumb.”
“It's not dumb if it's how you felt,” Talan said. “Is it?”
Erica nodded a bit.
Talan considered the problem while Erica finished the last bit of granola bar. “How do you feel about tickling?”
“Pardon me?” she asked, startled.
“We talked about it briefly in Jane's office, and you weren't set against it,” Talan reminded her. “We saw today that you are still ticklish.”
Erica nodded slowly.
“It sounds like you're getting stuck in a feedback loop where you're afraid to try to get away because it might be against the rules?”
Erica nodded again.
“What is the expected behaviour when somebody tickles you?”
“Laughing?” Erica suggested.
“And pulling away, right?” Talan waited until she agreed and said, “So the part of your brain making up the rules about not being able to move . . . won't beat you up over it?”
“I . . . guess . . . maybe . . . not?” Erica said with her characteristic confidence.
“You can say no without upsetting me,” Talan reminded her, sipping some more water. “Either way, it's not going to happen right now. I don't even want you to decide right now.”
“You don't?”
“Nope. Right now, you need to relax some more. And that probably means getting away from me for a bit,” Talan admitted with a grin. “Hang out with Reiko some. Maybe a walk, or just relax in the hot tub?”
* * *
With the women off wandering through autumn leaves, Talan was finally able to let off some of his own frustration. “I had no idea it would be this hard!” he exclaimed. “I can't even move toward her, sometimes, without her flinching!”
Tony nodded, slicing red onions for lunch. “She does seem to be having a hard time.”
“It's more than that,” Talan said. “She practically admitted she was afraid of me. I haven't done anything to her!”
“You mean other than tie her up and put your hands on her?” Tony asked mildly.
“Argh!” cried Talan. “She asked for it!”
“She did,” Tony agreed.
“So I didn't do anything!”
“Maybe it's less about what you did than about what you are,” Tony suggested.
“So what am I, then, that's so scary?” Talan demanded.
Tony tossed the onions in a hot frying pan with a hiss and shook the pan. “You've been talking to her. You tell me.”
Talan sighed. Sometimes he hated Tony's tendency to Socratic instruction. “I'm her native guide for the weekend. I'm the one who's here to help her explore stuff and decide whether she wants to continue with her membership application.”
“That might seem like a fair bit of power,” Tony suggested, slicing mushrooms as the onions cooked. “Gatekeeper to club membership.”
“But if she doesn't like it,” Talan appealed, “Why would she want to join the club?”
“Fair point,” Tony said. “What else? I saw her speaking with you while you had her restrained.”
“She's terrified of doing something wrong. Not just of doing something wrong,” Talan corrected himself, “but of even thinking or feeling something wrong. And she's convinced being terrified is doing something wrong, which just makes her feel worse.”
“Why would she be afraid of that?” Tony asked, transferring the caramelized onions to a stoneware dish and replacing them in the pan with the mushrooms.
“She's afraid I'll be offended and take it out on her?”
“Is she?”
Talan sighed, “Yeah, she is. Offended and angry and take it out on whoever is there, she said. Implications that it would be true whether or not it was her fault, though she clearly thought this was.”
“You are frustrated,” Tony noted, tossing the sauteed mushrooms with the onions to cool to room temperature. He dumped a dish of broccoli florets into boiling water to blanch, and started collecting the sauce ingredients.
“I am,” Talan admitted, “but I have enough self control not to take it out on her!”
“Does she not think so?” Tony whisked the tomato paste and horseradish into the mayonnaise.
“I don't think she thinks it through at all,” Talan admitted. “She reacts . . . and then she reacts to having reacted, and it's downhill from there.”
“So what can you do about it?” Tony diluted his sauce with a little water.
“Well, if she agrees, I'm going to try something that will overwhelm her attempts to lock down on her reactions.”
“Oh?” Tony tasted the sauce, adding a little sugar to balance the flavours.
“She's over-thinking things.”
“That she does,” Tony agreed neutrally, tossing the blanched broccoli florets in the sauce.
“And yeah, it's a defence mechanism,” Talan said, pacing on his own side of the counter, “And messing with people's defence mechanisms is dangerous. But she's getting caught in friendly fire, and it's not helping her!”
Tony nodded, separating the pita halves before he started slicing the tomato and avocado. “That's a difficult situation.”
“Yeah. It is. And she's afraid to talk to me, most of the time, so that makes it harder to get inside her head.” Talan sighed. “As far as I can tell, it's dark and scary in there.”
“You still haven't said how you're going to overwhelm her defences,” Tony pointed out, calmly spreading the sauteed vegetables into the pocket of each pita.
“Oh,” Talan said. “Right. Well, there were only so many things okayed in negotiation. My thought at the time was that going slowly and gently would work. I hadn't counted on her own brain attacking her. The tools I have to use are bondage, heat, cold, sensory deprivation, and tickling.”
“Not much to work with,” Tony agreed, adding the tomato and avocado slices to each pocket.
“So, yeah. My best plan now is to restrain her again in the same way and tickle her until her brain stops trying to tell her she's going to get hurt.” Talan said. After a moment of silence while Tony stuffed the dressed broccoli into the pita pockets, he added, “It sounded like a better idea in my head.”
“Have you asked her about this?” Tony inquired, “or are you running it past me instead of your partner?”
“I suggested it before she and Reiko went for their walk.”
“What did she say?”
“She didn't say no,” Talan said. “I wouldn't let her say yes yet, though. She was still too shaken to make a good decision. I'm just talking to you because I'm worried that I'll hurt her accidentally, and she won't know enough to stop me first.”
Tony arranged a small handful of clover microgreens atop each sandwich and said, “Good.” Talan wasn't quite sure whether the older man meant the sandwiches or what he had proposed to do with Erica. “Tell me something.”
“Okay,” Talan said uncertainly.
“When you had her tied up earlier, it looked to me like she was not dealing with it well. She seemed close to panic. Why didn't you let her go?”
“Because it wouldn't have helped,” Talan said honestly. “Since the first time I said hello to her, she's been fighting an urge to run away. At the Tim's where I picked her up, I was able to sketch out her possible escape routes for her, and that calmed her down some. Here . . . without one of us being involved, there is no way for her to get home safely. If she ran, she would have nowhere to go, and probably be afraid of coming back. That would be more dangerous for her than spending more time in bondage until I could get her calmed down.”
Tony looked up at him and smiled, “Lad, you're almost as good as you think you are. Your instincts are good and, as far as I can tell, you've read her well so far. Assuming she agrees – and I think you're right that she would agree whether it would hurt her or not – I have confidence that you will be able to get her through a tickling scene without damaging her further.”
Talan breathed a sigh of relief.
“On the other hand,” Tony warned, “you can't expect her to come out undamaged.”
“Wait, what?” asked Talan, a bit confused.
“She's not undamaged now,” Tony pointed out patiently. “One play session is not equivalent to years of intensive therapy with a trained professional. This isn't some Disney movie where the kiss of her True Love resolves all the problems in the story. And you're not her True Love.”
“I like her,” Talan objected. “I care about her.”
“I rather like her, myself,” Tony said. “It's a good basis for a friendship, caring about somebody, but that doesn't mean all the traditions of romantic love do or should apply.”
Talan nodded and peered out the dining room window. “Shouldn't they be back yet?” he asked.
“It's only half past eleven,” Tony noted, arranging sandwiches neatly on a tray and covering them with a clean tea towel before putting them in the refrigerator. “Reiko's not going to lose her.”

(continued at http://ticklingforum.com/entry.php?5381-NaNoWriMo-This-is-still-a-ROUGH-DRAFT because I hit the length limit for one post)