I used to have the full set of “Princess” white furniture in my bedroom when I lived at home. You know the cheapish chip board covered with white plastic laminate and the swirly ‘antique look’ tarnished handles. Jam-packed into my very modest bedroom located next to the one and only bathroom/toilet where I would be awoken on a daily basis to the sounds of my father noisily blowing his nose in the shower (what is it with guys and that anyway????), was a dressing table with mirror, a bedside table, a bookshelf, a desk, a bed, a wardrobe and one of those round rattan chairs with the big cushion in it that you find in tropical resorts.

Nothing sinister at all in there- except perhaps for the one or two secreted bottles of vodka hidden in the wardrobe and the Cleo magazines with their “How to give a really good blow job” articles strewn around the floor, except upon closer inspection when you noticed the scarves tied around the castor wheels of my bed, the piece of string looped around one of the louvres of my wardrobe doors, the little pieces of plastic littering the floor near the rattan chair and the slightly crusty facewasher that was hidden in my underwear drawer. Most people wouldn’t have noticed anything strange and it was only me who knew what they were for – bondage of course!

The scarves were long enough just to reach up onto the bed and had slip knots in them that I could slip over my feet for some under the doona restraint at night. The string on the wardrobe door was for me to close the door once I’d put myself inside. It was a dark, enclosed space that I imagined was my own little cell and played out many a fantasy inside. The little pieces of plastic were the remains of plastic straps that I’d used to keep the top of the ‘cage’ down. Turned upside down, the seat of the rattan chair fit nicely over the base and formed a nice little rattan cage that I could close with the ties and snip off with scissors when I was done- or when someone came home unexpectedly! And the slightly crusty facewasher? No, not used in any sort of masturbation activity (you people really need to take your minds out of the gutters! Lol…) but shoved into my mouth and tied on with yet another scarf to function as a nice little gag.

What prompted this little trip down memory lane was a sudden blinding thought by me during the ritual morning interrogation/ravishing session that the built-in closet in the back bedroom could be transformed into a perfect little cell. Upon suggesting this to Master he then informed me of his thought to take off the existing closet door and replace it with a ‘door’ made of wooden dowels to simulate cell bars. While cell bars sounded thoroughly delicious, my mind was still stuck in memories past of white louvre doors and rattan chairs- things I hadn’t thought about for a very long time. 

If I’d been a bit smarter and thought about the fact that a ten year old girl building an impromptu bondage palace in her bedroom was not a ‘normal’ thing, I’m sure I could of caused myself and others a lot less confusion and angst. If I would of then thought of the fact that those fantasies never abated and the need for bondage never decreased no matter how old I got and the implication of that, I don’t think I would of made some of the choices that I have made in my life. I’m not saying that I made mistakes, I’m just saying that I was ignoring (both consciously and unconsciously) what I should of been looking at and instead of trying to get by without that side of me, I should of been working out how to incorporate that side of me into my life.

Should have, could have, didn’t.

But fortunately, even though I took the long and bumpy road here, I’ve finally arrived. It’s good to be home.



One thought on “Impromptu

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  1. sometimes you got go down a few wrong roads before you realise your lost and need to find your destination doesn’t mean the trip you made is wasted it just means you got see some things you weren’t intending too.

    Glad you arrived eventually l was getting a bit lonely


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