Page 30 of Not About That Life
I gulped. I was lowkey hoping the door wouldn’t work and I would just be shit out of luck until Sir came home. But it perfectly works and now there’s only air and opportunity between me and the door.
I slowly open the door and I feel a gush of air towards me. The room is surprisingly cold and I wonder why that is. In fact, I think it’s actually the coldest room in the entire house. Goosebumps from both the coldness and nervousness appear along my arms. I search the walls for a light switch and quickly find it.
Once the soft light comes on, I’m floored.
I stepped into another closet within this one. It’s more like a sex chamber. Most couples have a naughty drawer but Ian has a freakin’ naughtycloset. It’s a sex toy store within its own.
My legs seem to move on their own volition as I slowly walk around the room. The carpet in this room is softer than the other rooms. A large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, I guess, to somehow to distract from Sodom & Gomorrah I just entered.
I see restraints in handcuffs, rope, ankle cuffs, and spreader bars. I see floggers, whips, paddles, and crops. I see some extreme shit like hoods, butt plugs, and I think those are chastity belts?
I see numerous toys like different sized dildos, vibrators, and my old friend, the Hitachi. Blindfolds and scarves appear in different colors in another section. A sex swing with restraints casually hangs from the ceiling in a nearby corner.
Finally, in the center of the room, is a long massage table. It’s bolted onto the floor and I run my fingers lightly over the table. Dare I say, the leather is the same quality of a Bentley, if not better.
The room is giving me weird vibes. I feel it’s part seedy, run-down motel on the wrong side of town and I feel it’s a luxurious room at a five-star hotel. All of the sex toys and implements look like they’re of the best and finest quality, despite how they’ll be used.
I thought I would be scared. I thought I would see everything and run far away from Ian and his freak-nastiness. I thought I would be horrified and questioned who in the hell is my fiancée.
Instead, I’m aroused to the point of no return. I want to try everything. I want Sir to do what He wants with my body anytime He wants it. I want to be bound and gagged. I want to be fucked until I have to sayred. I want to do little tasks for Him…
Shit! I have a task to do!
I find a notepad and pen and quickly begin to think about what I’m grateful for. There are so many things yet I only need to write down one for today. It’s a task harder than I thought it would be, yet I’m eager to do.
Here goes nothing.
Sir,
I’m grateful to trust someone who is allowing me explore my sexuality on my terms.
It doesn’t sound like a big deal and I’m sure to most women it’s not. But it’s a big deal to me. From the very beginning, Ian supported and encouraged my dreams. Even though I felt he cock-blocked me at every opportunity he had, I realized it was part of a Master plan.
He wanted to prepare me to be his wife.
I knew there was more to him than just Bentleys and bling. I knew deep down, he was a great guy who truly cared about the world and wanted to make a difference. I also knew he put up a public persona because the real him, no one wanted to know or understand.
Now Sir wanted me to explore more about His life with me. Bananas is the only word that comes to mind.
“Angel,” Sir’s voice startles me and I turn around to find Him at the doorway looking in. He’s still dressed in the business casual suit from before and I feel every fiber of my willpower fly out the fucking window as my legs magically open.
Sir’s casually leaning against the doorway and holding a tumbler of brown liquid. I have a feeling I might be the one who would need that liquid courage. “You found it.”
