"You would like me to what?" I asked him in disbelief. Since my training as a submissive had led to my eventual and unexpected training as a Dominant, I had seen and heard things that most people would find exceptionally offensive, incredibly insane and sometimes completely laughable. This was something that I had often heard about from the other Ladies who would play at our club but had never personally come across it. This man was, after all, one of my first paying clients and I still had a lot to experience. I could never let him know that but I was finding it next to impossible to expose my utter fascination with what he was telling me. I tried to play it cool and collected as though it was a story I heard a million times before but my insides were riddled with the incessant need to giggle. It almost hurt.
"I have a fantasy about being used as furniture," he responded, pushing his glasses up on his nose and folding his hands again on the table. We had finished signing confidentiality forms and reviewing all of the rules of play; it was now time to discuss fantasies and roles. This was usually an easy subject as it was usually the same old "tie me up, spank me, flog me, call me names, make me submit" stuff. Don't get me wrong here, I love it but it's nice when you get someone who throws you for a little bit of a fetish loop and comes to you with something so damn different.
"Is there any furniture in particular that you prefer to be?" I asked him, a little nervous of the response. I was positive I could make him an ottoman or an ashtray but a little scared of trying to turn him into a vase or an entertainment centre as these could prove a little difficult. Being new and still rather inexperienced when compared to my fellow co-workers, it seemed that my nerves could possibly get the best of me with this man. I folded my hands into my lap and started playing with my ring, hoping that he wouldn't read into me too much. One thing I did learn is that people experienced in the this lifestyle could spot the inexperienced and the fakers a mile away. At this moment, even though I was trained and under the tutelage of the best in the business, I was still a little bit of both of those things.
"Again," I said to him, "don't make me repeat myself. Is there anything in particular you like to be?"
"If I give you a list, would you choose randomly during my sessions?" he asked rather sheepishly. Reaching his hand into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, sliding it to me across the table, I could see the small grin on his face as if he had found something he had been looking for and that something had been me.
I took the list from him, unfolded it and began to read:
This is a list of things that I would hope you will consider as proper punishments and uses for me during our meetings. I do find great pleasure in the acts of bondage. I do believe that there is freedom in submission. I do find pleasure in being used. I have not been used as furniture thus far but it is a great fantasy for me. However, I am nervous to bring this up to my wife as she is a very straight-laced Christian woman who, despite her feelings has been kind enough to oblige me in bondage but this I fear would prove to much for her. I am hoping that you will help me to achieve this freedom by including the following in our play:
I would like to try being a table either an end table or a dinner table for one. I have also found pictures online of a man being used as an ashtray and a foot stool. The things that we are able to turn our bodies into are limited and so my fantasy is limited but the biggest thing I would like to try is to become a lamp.
I hope you don’t find me too offensive and that you are able to help me to fulfill this fantasy. I am willing to provide all necessary equipment or pay extra so that you would be able to obtain it. Thank you for your kindness,
I mulled the letter over in me head thinking lamp, a lamp … how the hell do I turn a man into a lamp? I put the letter down on the table in front of me, reached into my bag and took out my planner.
“When would you be available for your first session?” I asked him. Unsmiling, unwavering in my persona as a complete and utter bitch as I clicked my pen, almost contemptuous in him wasting my time with his inability to respond quickly. In all honestly, I was smiling inside, nervous inside but quickly taking a liking to the submissive sitting across from me. I liked his demeanour, his honesty. I knew in this first meeting that this client and I were going to be friends despite the Dominant/submissive relationship which we were going to be sharing. I knew that when the ropes were untied we would both meet with smiles, that we could both hold our sense of humour and that my bitch persona would be broken down through his willingness to please.
He smiled at me and gave me his answer. I wrote the appointment in my planner and slammed it shut.
Mr. Lamp, Friday @ 2100
I arranged my ropes and cuffs while he changed into the leather briefs I had bought for him. They were tight and uncomfortable but they made him listen. Odd, but it worked. In my bag I had a surprise for my exceptionally obedient submissive man. Six months of one session per week had past and I thought it was finally time for the big finale.
Our first session and one of our most memorable had me take him to what became one of his favourite places – kneeling at my side while I flick ashes from my cigarette into his mouth. To do this I had him kneel, wrapping his ankles with leather cuffs and attaching them to either end of a spreader bar. At that point I roughly yet lovingly laced up his arms behind his back in a brand new and beautiful set of leather arm binders. His elbows touched behind him as I laced him up. He winced through the gag I had used while I was busy with his restraints. I had a leash tethered to one of the poles in my studio with the end of it attached to a lovely metal collar that I had a fellow Domme make specifically for him.
Once I would have him hobbled and laced, I’d give him his blindfold and keep him gagged and waiting. I wouldn’t necessarily use him right away but rather leave him waiting in anticipation as to what was to come. Anticipation can be the sexiest feeling one could ever have.
This night was different. He knew there was something different when he walked out of the back room in his briefs and kneeled at my feet. I could sense his wonderment when I grabbed his hair, pulling him forward to place his collar on him. I was abnormally quiet when I came in and didn’t look directly at him but rather waved him off to get ready. I gave the illusion of being in an unkind mood but I was rather excited for this night to happen. I was going to give my slave exactly what he wanted, exactly what he deserved for the months of almost flawless submission he had shown me.
A week before I was browsing an antique furniture shop and found, to my delight, a tall lamp. It was a long pole with a fixture for a light bulb directly on top. The best part was that it could screw apart in the middle. I bought it, took it home and set it up. I could only smile at what fate had brought to me.
“You’ve been good,” I said to him quietly as a stroked the top of his head. He didn’t move. I didn’t ask for him to respond and so, he did nothing. I smiled down at him, my obedient slave.
“I have a surprise for you. Would you like to know what it is?”
He nodded yes without a glance in my direction. I leaned down to him, putting my hand under his chin and raising his face to mine. We stared eye to eye and he quietly whispered, “yes, Mistress”.
“I will blindfold you and you will remain kneeling while I prepare. Do you understand?”
Again, the obedient whisper, “yes, Mistress”. I tied the blindfold.
I got up from my chair and hastily went to the lamp folded under a sheet and put it together quickly, making sure the base was steady. I took out my favourite device, my arm binders, and laid them down next to the rope, the gag and the lamp shade that was still hidden. I had everything laid out when I turned and walked to my sub, linked my finger through the loop of his collar and pulled him to stand.
“Walk with me,” I commanded as I led him to the lamp, plugged in and waiting. I backed him up to the pole and straightened him out, and had him raise his arms. I took my rope and made him a beautiful, tightly wrapped body suit which linked his torso to the pole of the lamp, making sure to pinch the right places. I lifted my nipple clamps from the neatly laid out spread and slowly attached them to him. I loved his wince as I did so but, he didn’t utter a sound. I flicked the chain that hung across his chest as I reached for my arm binders. The cool leather in my hands gave me a chill as I walked behind him, pulling his arms together around the pole and attaching the binders tightly. I walked back to my stash and found my two sets of ankle cuffs – one on his ankle, one on the pole until both feet were tethered. I gagged him with a brand new bit gag, something I knew he didn’t enjoy.
I stood back admiring my work and my antique shop find. There I was staring at a man who was gagged, blindfolded, cuffed, bound and clamped to a lamp. I let him enjoy his anticipation. I saw the chills run up and down his body. I could hear his breathing becoming heavier.
I walked back over to him and pulled down his blindfold, “Are you ready?” He nodded in agreement while I pulled the sheet off of the final piece. His face lit up like the lamp he was tied to when he saw the shade. I brought it over and put it on the light bulb which was up higher than his head. It was a large enough shade that it just covered his eyes. His breathing was slower, deeper. I reached over him and pulled the cord for the power over his shoulder, through the rings of the chain on his chest.
“Are you ready?” I whispered again with my hand on the chain. He nodded and I pulled that chain, the clamps tugged his nipples and that lamp lit up.