Like a handbag…

“Like a Handbag” was written for BDSMforyou.nl by B-liever.

“Look,” she said with a cautious smile, “men are like handbags to me. I have favorite handbags, and I also have ones I forget and lose. Of course I have a favorite, and I also have ones I wish I hadn’t had in hindsight. That’s all.” She didn’t even look at me. I had seen her, though, and everything was automatically stored in my mind after a single glance. The seam of her stockings, the beautiful red of her lips, the fire in her eyes. I was replaying that in my mind and wasn’t really listening—or was I?

The same desires

I nodded. She asked if I agreed. I nodded, with no idea what to or why. All willpower had slipped from my body. I must have looked strange. Slumped shoulders? Stripped of all strength? Whatever. Finally, I was there. Where I’d never dared to be. I paid the entrance fee and suddenly found myself among BDSM enthusiasts. People who do it too, who harbor the same desires. Would all men want to kneel before women and worship them, just like me? So many questions before I stepped inside and once I was inside. And then I still had to find her.

I found her!

“You’ll find me at the bar,” she had written in a text, and I found her! So simple, so natural. For days I’d imagined myself standing next to the wrong person. It didn’t happen. I was standing next to the right one. Next to my everything. She beckoned me. And spoke, told me, said so much. “That I’ll do whatever I want with you. That you communicate clearly. Speak politely in two words. Tell me what you feel when something’s up. Share everything. That I’m going to hurt you. Will whip you, tie you up, make you drink my piss, and there’s always a chance I’ll suddenly forget you just like my last handbag, and now you’re paying for my wine.”

So friendly and gentle…

I looked at her. We had clearly agreed beforehand that this wouldn’t be a commercial encounter. For a moment, I hesitated. She could have walked away or given me a shove. It was her smile that was so friendly and gentle, the hand on my shoulder that then briefly rubbed my upper arm. That took the tension away, let a sigh escape my lips, and made me lean over the bar: “I’d like to pay for the lady’s drink.” That was fine. I don’t remember if my hands were shaking when I took the money out of my wallet.

No hidden messages

She slid gracefully off her barstool. After two steps, she looked back, beckoned, and I followed. We walked to the changing room. There, she opened a locker and told me to undress. I hesitated but started anyway. While I was doing so, she told me that I should always take her words literally; she had no hidden meanings. If she said “undress,” she simply meant that all clothes had to come off. I had just reached my socks and underwear. Shortly after, I was standing naked. She looked at me. I felt like everyone was staring at me. That wasn’t the case, I think…

The corners of her mouth curled up when she saw my gaze. A shiny black lace thong dangled from her finger. A high-cut style. She winked as she said I was a bit chubby. Then she pointed to the label: that had to go in the back. I did what she expected of me.

She pulled the thing up a bit higher, rubbed my cock, and whispered in my ear that I would never fuck her. Being submissive was one thing, but cock in pussy was out of the question. Whether I still liked it and wanted to continue. I think I had goosebumps on my arms and nodded yes. She held the locker key high in front of my eyes. I looked up. “Everything locked up, just like I often do with little dicks.” I swallowed.

Just like my handbag

“Normally that key hangs around my neck or ankle or… I lose it just like my handbag” her fingertips glided along my cheek. She walked past me, I turned automatically. “Don’t lose me because there are no spare keys here.” I was already following her. Out of the changing room, through the hallway, into another room, the hall. Suddenly I stood still. My back against the wall. Her hand on my neck. I felt my heart beating. Her eyes hard, her voice clear: “Lower your eyes, as you should.” I did as I should. She positioned me in front of her. Her fingernail pricked my chin and made me look at everything unfolding before us.

Spectacle

I felt her breasts against my back. My nipples between her fingertips, rolling gently. Occasionally, her breath along my neck. She is tall, strong, and vicious. I tried to lean back slightly, unsure whether I wanted to feel her warmth against my back or escape her fingers. The spectacle before me gripped me. It was intense, passionate, and yes, pure SM. “Are you enjoying this?” I heard whispered in my ear. I nodded, and her fingers tightened, her teeth biting my ear.

I had nowhere to go and didn’t want to moan and thus disrupt the spectacle before us. She let go, sat me up straight, and briefly stroked my cheek. I saw a proud smile, and then I lowered my eyes. I followed her to the bar. She ordered a drink; I was given water in a glass. She spoke, and I remained silent. Everyone ignored me. When I tried to step aside to let a man closer to the bar, she grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. “This one belongs to me, be careful, please!” It made me so proud. When things quieted down, she beckoned me with a mischievous glance. “Eyes down, slave!” she said quickly. I did as she said and followed.

Locked In

We went to a room together and the door locked. The lights were dimmed, but I could see that this place had absolutely everything an SM enthusiast could ever dream of. “We’re going to explore a new world together. You’ll tell me if it’s difficult or if it feels good. That’s how we’ll take small steps.” The lights dimmed a little further, and I felt the lashes of a flogger across my back. I quickly grabbed two steel rods that were nearby. Then it became like a movie; my thoughts drifted, and I spoke occasionally, moaned more often, and let whatever she deemed appropriate happen.

A few days have passed. It’s a sunny day and I’m standing in her garden. Naked, in my latex briefs under a parasol. She’s lying in the sun. Turning over regularly. Listening to music with earbuds in. Sometimes she beckons, and I give her a glass or massage her feet. When she’s done, I go back to my spot under the parasol. Otherwise, I’m irrelevant. Suddenly, she looks up. I avoid her gaze by lowering my eyes. “Would you mind taking a look, sweetheart, at the handbag from that evening—you know, the one I had with me, I think it was red, and I can’t find it anywhere.” I turn around and start searching her house, looking for something I’m sure I won’t find.

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Text: B-liever
Image: 123rf.com