Posted by: check868 | May 25, 2008

Fantasy Flop

So, last night: Tom was hanging out with friends during the day and he was supposed to come over at 7. So around 6:30 I start wiggling into my corset. Lacing up a corset on your own is no mean feat, especially my new one. Corsets aren’t like in the movies, where you lace them up from bottom to top. A corset lace is one long, unbroken cord (a big circle) and you tighten the bodice from the top to the middle and the bottom to the middle, at which point you have two loops in the middle of your back that hang down on either side between two and four feet long. Then you make a bow out of the loops.

Anyway, every time I pulled the bottom tight, the top loosened, every time I pulled the top tight, the bottom loosened. I ended up tightening the bottom, tying a bow at the middle, then tightening the top, undoing the bow, adding the slack to the bow, retying, and then tightening the bottom some more, etc., until I couldn’t get it any tighter. At 6:56, I had literally just finished and Tom calls: “Um, my friends are still here, can I come at 8?” Groan.

So I sat around and read my book for an hour. With excellent posture. (After what I had gone through getting that thing on, it wasn’t coming off again. Ever.)

I sat. And sat. And sat.

At 8:20, I called Tom. “Please don’t kill me!” was how he answered the phone. He promised he was kicking his friends out in ten minutes and then he’d come over.

9pm, he rings my buzzer. I was fuming. I considered adding a bit more corporal punishment and doing the scene anyway, but that seemed like a bad idea. I told him how pissed I was and he apologized and promised not to be such a dick in the future. I really wanted to throw in his face that I could have gone out with someone else that night (The Producer), but I resisted.

He dropped to a kneeling position on the floor and started kissing my feet. I put my other stiletto heel on his back and pushed him down even farther. I was still pretty pissed.

We ended up playing, but no scene. Ah well, next weekend.

It’s funny how parallel kink and vanilla worlds are. Replace “scene” with “dinner” and you have a fight that is probably happening in a thousand homes every night. “I made a nice dinner and now it’s ruined! You’re two hours late because you’re off with your no-good friends!” (Although I’ve liked all of Tom’s friends that I’ve met.) It makes me feel very traditional, but it’s the inconsideration I guess we all react to, regardless of your proclivities.


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