I Dominus – A Moment of Doubt


I met Zoe at a photoshoot. She was to grace the cover of a very popular local fashion magazine. She, and her agency, agreed to waive the usual fees. The cover was to be in support of PETA. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Zoe was a highly sought after model, and stubborn, very stubborn.

I was asked to weave Zoe in a bikini out of rope for the cover of the next issue of the magazine, by a freelance photographer, Katja, which I had met at a friend’s Shibari class.

Katja had texted an image of an artist’s rendition of the model in a rope bikini. The drawing depicted a woman with her arms over her head, bound in a full arm sleeve, with her breasts and hips bound by just enough rope to cover her naughty bits.

The shoot was scheduled for a Saturday morning. When I arrived at the studio, Andrea, Zoe’s manager, had me sign an NDA, and a waiver to the effect that the rights to my work on the shoot belonged to the company she represented. Once I had signed both documents, we got to work.

Andrea asked for the crew’s attention and introduced me to the staff of eight. “Everyone, this is Gil. The rope guy,” she chuckled. The atmosphere was much more relaxed that I had anticipated. Probably due to the fact that I was at least twice everyone’s age.

Zoe walked over to Andrea and me, and said hello. “I assume you want me naked, rope guy?” she chuckled.

I laughed at her remark. It was her way of breaking the ice and calming my nerves, in the event I was uncomfortable with what she assumed was a new experience for me.

“I could always tear your clothes off, if you’re into that kind of thing,” I replied and winked at her.

She laughed and replied, “Cheeky, rope guy. Very cheeky. You ready?”

“At your service, Zoe,” I smiled.

Zoe crossed her arms across her torso and grabbed the bottom of her sports bra. With a wink, she turned away from me and walked to where she would be photographed, marked by an X on the floor. She lifted the sports-bra over her head, and tossed it aside. I heard her giggle as she bent at the hips and pulled her yoga pants down to her ankles. She stepped out of them, and turned around to face me. I chuckled at the sight of Zoe with flesh colored pasties on her nipples, and a matching thong.

“A girl has to leave somethings to the imagination,” she snickered. “I’m all yours, rope guy,” Zoe playfully announced.

I was startled when an annoyingly loud bass track filled the large studio.

“I love this song!” Zoe screamed out as she lifted her hands over her head and gyrated her hips to the mindless, synthetic beat.

I made my way to Zoe, grabbed one of the dozen coiled ropes from a small table, and uncoiled it. I squeezed the rope in my fists and pulled my hands apart quickly, to get a feel of its burn speed. I chuckled to myself, ‘Old habits die hard.’ The rope’s burn speed was inconsequential for Zoe. I would be wrapping it around her, not torturing her with it. ‘Shame,’ I grinned to myself.

Zoe leaned close to me and yelled out, “You like rap, rope guy?”

I grinned and replied, “Can’t stand it.”

Zoe laughed and danced harder. “I love it! It has so much energy! We’ll start after this song, okay? It’s kind of a ritual to relax everyone.”

I nodded and looked at everyone in the studio bopping their heads in unison to the beat. When the noise finally stopped, Zoe thanked the girl that had doubled as the DJ.

Zoe smiled and nodded at me to start.

“There is no polite way to say this, Zoe. I will be touching and positioning your body many times during the tie. I’ll leave the arm sleeve for the end, since it will be the most challenging and uncomfortable for you,” I informed her.

Zoe chuckled back her response, “If you’re going to cop a feel, promise you’ll still respect me in the morning. No need to explain, you have my permission. It was sweet of you to mention it. I’ve worked with some real creeps that have treated me like nothing more than meat.”

“Let’s start. Turn around, Zoe,” I instructed her.

The tie was simple and quick. Zoe’s playfulness provided a great deal of entertainment for everyone in studio. She would wiggle her hips. Shift her weight from one foot to the other. Or, brush her breasts against my hands as I was adjusting the rope, and giggle. It was harmless flirting.

Zoe is a very beautiful young woman. She’s a leggy, five-foot-seven-inches tall, strawberry blonde. There was no doubt that she looked after herself, and that she took her profession very seriously. My eyes would wander to the vertical line from her solar plexus to her bellybutton whenever she was facing me. I find that much more sexy and arousing to look at than a woman with a six-pack. Her girlish hips and a tight, slim waist, add to that her tight round ass, and you get a ton of trouble on a Saturday night. I’m sure she broke hearts just by walking by guys and girls alike.

Amidst the fun, curiosity, and sexual overtones of the scene, a brief moment crossed the line and into sexual arousal for me and Zoe. I was on my knees, behind Zoe, when I asked her to spread her legs. Zoe did so bebek escort without giving it a second thought. I slid the rope between her legs and I told her to bring her knees together and hold the rope in place. I stood up and made my way around to face her. I grabbed the rope and pulled its entire length between her thighs.

Playfully, I pulled the rope upwards with a gentle tug. To stop Zoe form wiggling her hips. The rope slid between her pussy lips and dug gently into her folds. Zoe reacted as any woman would have at the unexpected intrusion; she stood up on her toes and was shocked for an instant. She tried to read why I had stimulated her most sensitive and private area with the rope, by the look in my eyes.

She smirked and said. “Smartass. It seems that there is more to this rope stuff than meets the eye. And, I think there is more to you, rope guy, than meets the eye. Not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.” She winked and asked, “Did we just have a moment, rope guy?”

I grinned and tugged the rope gently once again, as I replied, “Perhaps, Zoe.”

The second time I sent the rope exploring between her pussy lips, Zoe did not go up on her toes. Her cheeks flushed and she gasped softly, before replying, “I’m sure of it, there is definitely more to his rope stuff than I had imagined. We’ve had two special moments. Wanna go for the hat trick?” she chuckled.

“I wouldn’t want to spoil you, Zoe. Get your mind out of the gutter,” I replied as I furrowed my brow in mock sternness.

“Oh, you are a very bad man. Teasing me like that. There is definitely more to you than you let on, rope guy,” she pouted.

“My name is Gil. Please stop referring to me as that. And you’re right, I am much more than just a rope guy,” I replied to her.

Once I had completed adorning Zoe’s body in rope, I stood out of everyone’s way and watched the crew do their work. When the photographer announced it was a wrap. Everyone clapped, and cheered, and hollered.

“She’s all yours, Gil. You can untie her,” the photographer said to me after the cheering had died down.

“Will you be attending the party tonight, Gil? You are on the guest list, right?” Zoe asked as I untied the stop knot in the arm sleeve.

“I am on the list, but I won’t be attending. I don’t think I could listen to another rap song in its entirety for another twenty-five years, minimum,” I chuckled.

Zoe laughed and replied, “I’ll keep you company, if you tell me more about rope.”

“Some other time, Zoe. I will gladly answer any questions you have.”


Two weeks had passed since the photo-shoot. Zoe had popped in and out of my mind each day, since. I felt a strong, sexual attraction to her. My mind would wander to having her in my rope, suspended, or bound with her limbs bent and twisted, on my bed, or on the floor, in a state of willing erotic suffering, and completely under my control. My cock would grow to full erection at the images of Zoe that I would conjure up in my mind.

Strange as it seemed to me, I knew that I would never be sadistic to her. Even if Zoe gave her consent, I could never put her career risk. There is never a guarantee that any session, no matter how carefully planned and played out, will unfold exactly as intended. The risk of damage to the bottom’s skin, joints, tendons and muscle tissue are a potential reality in any session. Accidents happen. Anyone who has indulged in the rougher side of sex, all have stories of scenes gone wrong. For many, the risk itself contributes to the rush, to the excitement of the scene. That’s part of the physiological blue print of risk takers. Participating in potential dangerous behavior is part of the thrill, or high, for them.

I was at my desk early that Monday morning. The IT department had installed security patches on hundreds of workstations over the weekend. I wanted to get a jump on any issues that might have occurred because of the patches. Although the patches are always tested on workstations in a UAT environment, there is no guarantee that patching in the live environment will be trouble free.

My phone rang a few minutes after eight o’clock. The LED display showed the name of the caller, Rhonda, the receptionist on the floor. I answered the call. Rhonda informed me that I had a visitor with a package for me. I let her know that I was on my way to greet the person.

I was greeted by a smiling Zoe as I pressed the button to disengage the magnetic lock of the glass door that separated the reception area from our offices.

“Hope you don’t mind that I showed up unannounced, Gil,” Zoe nervously greeted me.

The way I looked in a suit threw her for a loop. I was wearing track pants and a hoodie when we met. The sudden widening of her eyes, exposing more of her sclera, the white portion of eyes, coupled with the subtle lowering of her head is an indicator of attraction, and submission. Not in a sexual sense; it’s body language indicating that we don’t pose a threat.

I always found it peculiar that the body language for attraction, and for fear, is very mecidiyeköy escort similar.

“Not at all, Zoe,” I replied, unable to suppress a smile. I held the door open for her and thanked Rhonda.

I closed my office door and pulled out chair for Zoe. She sat down and thanked me, and I sat behind my desk.

“How have you been, Gil?” Zoe asked as she placed a wrapped package in the shape of a thin book on my desk. “This is for you. I thought you would like something to remember the photo-shoot by.”

I wanted to tell her that I’d remember the experience, regardless. Instead, I smiled and thanked her, and let her know that the gift was a pleasant surprise.

“Go ahead, open it. I hope you like it,” Zoe giggled, and watched on excitedly as I unwrapped the memento.

I chuckled as I read what Zoe had written on the photograph. ‘Thanks for showing me the ropes. Zoe’.

“That’s the picture they chose for the cover. Hope you don’t mind that I wrote a message on it. I couldn’t help myself,” she laughed.

“Not at all. It’s not original, but, it never gets old,” I grinned.

Zoe pouted and winked as she replied, “You mean to tell me I’m not your first?”

“Unfortunately not. You’re my second,” I chuckled back at her.

Zoe laughed and asked, “If your offer to answer questions I have still stands, I’m in town for the next six weeks with nothing much to do. Maybe we can chat over dinner and a few drinks? My treat, of course.”

I wanted to jump all over Zoe’s offer before she finished asking her question. Instead, I sat back in my chair and waited a few seconds before answering, “I would gladly join you for dinner and conversation. Just say when and where.”

Zoe leaned forward in her chair before she replied, “Is tonight, at nine, too short of notice for you? Boca’s, downtown? I already made the reservation.” Zoe playfully batted her eyes at me as she confessed.

I grinned and replied, “Who’s the cheeky one now? Yes, tonight at nine is fine.”

Zoe stood from her chair and made her way to the office door. “I’ll see myself out. See you tonight, Gil.”


I arrived at Boca’s a few minutes before nine. Zoe was seated at a corner table at the back of the restaurant. She was looking down at her cell phone while her fingers moved across its screen.

“Hello again, Zoe,” I greeted her.

Zoe looked up from her phone and smiled, “Not sick of me yet?”

“There is lots of time for me to change my mind, the night is young,” I chuckled.

Zoe gasped and replied, “Dutch treat tonight. You can pay for your own dinner, if you’re going to be mean to me.”

We chatted about trivial things and sipped wine while we waited for our orders. As the night went on, Zoe became more fidgety, and found it unnerving to hold my gaze. She obviously wanted to breach the subject of rope, but wasn’t quite certain of how to slip the topic into our conversation.

I smiled at her and said, “Shoot. Ask away, Zoe.”

She giggled and blushed. “Thank you!” her words came out a bit louder than she had intended. “Okay. I was dying to begin interrogating you.” She took a sip of wine and continued, “I Googled what you do. Some of it is very beautiful. Some of it is terrifying.”

I nodded. “A natural and normal reaction for someone who is introduced to it for the first time. It can be a bit overwhelming to the senses.”

“Some of it looks beyond painful. And women still come back for more?” she whispered.

I smiled as I replied, “Yes.”

Her next question was predictable, “Why? I don’t get the pain part. How could anyone enjoy pain?”

I had explained what Zoe asked many times, to many women. I had to ease into the explanation. Experience had taught me not only to start with the non-threating scenarios, but to compare rope bondage to something that they might have experienced, or would like to experience. That everyone has different likes and dislikes. And most importantly, I had to be aware of the person’s reactions to what I was saying to them. If the mild scenarios garnered a very negative or aggressive reaction, it is best that you not continue the conversation.

Pain is not the opposite pleasure. In fact, we react to both sensations in almost identical ways. Depending on the individual’s pain threshold, the intensity of play can be increased. That was the crux of the message that I would try to make Zoe understand. If she was open to it, I would continue.

“Are you ticklish, Zoe?” I asked.

Tickling is a good, non-threatening topic to start off with. Most everyone has experienced it and walked away unharmed. And they have probably been held down while being tickled, harmless physical interaction. Some people get a kick out of being tickled.

She nodded, brought her arms tight against her sides and snickered, “Extremely, especially under my arms.”

I laughed at Zoe’s reaction. “How would you describe the sensation of being tickled, painful or pleasurable?”

Zoe thought about the question and replied, “Neither, really. I hate it, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s a form of florya escort torture, if you ask me.”

I smiled, “I’m not ticklish. Therefore I can’t relate to how it feels to you, or anyone else. I do know some people that hate being tickled, but, will allow themselves to be restrained and tickled till it becomes painful, and claim to enjoy it on some level. Your comment is bang on, Zoe. Tickling was a form of torture at one time in our history.”

Her next question was also predictable. She sipped her wine to wet her dry mouth and asked, “Still, I don’t understand how pain is a turn on for some people. Why would anyone agree to intentionally be hurt?”

“You believe that pain is the opposite of pleasure, Zoe?”

“Yes, of course it is,” she replied.

“That’s a common and incorrect presupposition. Pain, is not the opposite of pleasure. Boredom is the closest thing to being the opposite of pleasure. In fact, we react, on all levels, very similar to both pain and pleasure. The same parts of the brain are stimulated when either is introduced to us. Heart rate and blood flow increase, the same chemicals are released, our tolerance to pain is temporarily increased by those chemicals,” I explained.

“How can they not be opposites, one is pleasurable, the other is not? And why do we need an increased tolerance to pain when we are feeling pleasure?” Zoe asked a bit miffed at what I had explained.

“Activities designed to induce an orgasm, aren’t always tender and gentle, Zoe. The act of intercourse itself could be viewed as violent, in a way. Imagine for a moment, not having your tolerance to pain increased during penetration, and your partner was, shall we say, very enthusiastic with his thrusting in and out of you. Part of the arousal process, along with the secretion of natural lubricants, the heightened sensitivity of our sex organs, and the release of chemicals to prepare a body for sex, is an increased tolerance to pain. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be pleasurable. Have you ever been with someone who was a bit too eager, and they entered you, prior to you being properly stimulated and prepared?”

Zoe blushed, her lips twitched once with nervous energy, and answered, “Yes. It hurt like hell.” She thought back to a former boyfriend that had come home drunk, and shoved his cock inside her as she lay asleep. “It does make sense in a way. The same holds true after an orgasm. At times, if he continues to thrust enthusiastically, as you put it, it is painful. Or, if the thrusting goes on for too long.”

“That is true for men also, Zoe. After an orgasm or multiple orgasms, depending on the person, the body will begin the process to return itself to a normal state, once the person is sexually satisfied. It stops releasing the chemicals that are required to keep us stimulated and in a varying degree of immunity to pain, and releases different chemicals to take us back to a neutral state. Intercourse brings with it a feeling of euphoria, and it should, or else we’d never survive as a species. After we’ve been satisfied sexually, sex organs are sometimes tender to even the slightest touch, or can ache and throb for a long time afterwards. Just as you mentioned, it’s painful if it goes on too long. Yet, moments prior, the same enthusiastic thrusting was the cause of the euphoric feeling. If impact play is part of a session, there is no guarantee that the bottom’s threshold of pain won’t be breached. Everyone goes into a session with that knowledge and will make their partner aware if whatever they are doing needs to be toned down, or completely stopped. Answer this question, Zoe. Would you prefer to be flogged, or, to be tickled?” I asked.

Zoe laughed out loud and took a moment to answer. “Flogged, hands down, I guess.”

“Does the thought of being flogged arouse you? Would you agree to allow someone to flog you? Or, is the thought of being, or watching someone being flogged that stimulates you, but you would never engage in it?”

Zoe smiled and replied, “I’m not sure. If it feels anything like being spanked, maybe I would. Spanking was kind of hot, the few times I have tried it.”

I chuckled, “It takes a certain type of personality to venture out of the vanilla realm. There’s hope for you yet. Just as we all have unique fingerprints. We all have unique sexual fingerprints. Everyone is made up of almost infinite combinations of what they’d be willing try, compromise, and what they enjoy and don’t enjoy.”

Zoe grinned at what I had said. It was the perfect moment to switch topics, and engage me to talk about my sexual fingerprint. “On that note, Gil. Tell me all the things about you that don’t meet the eye.”

I laughed and took a sip of wine prior to answering her question. “The short answer; I’m a rope top, I do the tying, with a taste for things that are not gentle. It is very arousing to me, to be in control of what my partner is allowed to feel, or not allowed to feel. I enjoy inflicting mild to extreme sensations, and get aroused by the knowledge that my partner is willing to allow me to do so. I hope you have a better understanding that pain and pleasure are not opposites. What I practice is controlled and consensual. I don’t tie women up and proceed with no regard for their well-being. It is the complete opposite, in reality.” I took a sip of wine and asked, “Have you ever ached for a pleasurable feeling, or sexual release?”

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