Date night has arrived and the kids have been fed and watered and safely delivered to the in-laws for a sleepover. Hubs is upstairs getting himself dressed up for me and I’m feeling flushed with excitement at the prospect of our romantic night out!
I generously apply a glossy coat of red lipstick and I’m ready to go. Giving myself the once over in the full length mirror, I am surprisingly pleased with my reflection for a change.
The new heels make me look a little taller, which gives the added illusion of being a little slimmer. The straight black skirt, just flashing a suspicion of lower thigh flesh, is more daring than normal but then we are off to see 50 Shades of Grey.
It took me a whole month to persuade hubs to come with me. However, mentioning a few of Mr. Grey’s sexual preferences that I might have to try out on him, seemed to have been the deal breaker and he said yes!
Hubs saunters downstairs looking rather dapper in a Grey (no pun) suit and I’m reminded of why I fancied him all those years ago. Yes, I have to say he still has it. His hair is a little whiter and his gut is a little wider but he still has that ‘mmmmmmm’ appeal in a suit. I make a mental note to make sure he wears one more often and not only for weddings and funerals.
He lands a playful slap on my bottom as he heads out to the car and opens my door like a true gent. This is looking to be a great night.
The film, I have to say, wasn’t as exciting as the night that was to follow with hubby. We decided to pop into a shady sex shop on the way home for a few of Mr Grey’s accessories. We giggled like a pair of teens making silly suggestions of what half the attire could possibly be used for.
I remember the days a sex shop had sexy undies and a few dildos. Wow! How times have changed. It’s more like Aisle 15 at B&Q these days, with everything from handcuffs to chicken wire!!! We decided we would try out some of the BDSM accessories and try something different at home.
The conversation on the way home was us trying to figure out just what BDSM actually stands for. Here are a few of our lame attempts at guessing.
Bum Down Sexy Mama (Me)
Big Dominant Sexy Man (Hubs – lame )
Bottom Down Sir Marvellous (Hubs-even worse)
Bend Down Sexy Mofo (Me)
Broken Down Sex Machine (Hubs)
Be Daring Slap Me (I might regret this one)
Apparently they are all wrong and it actually means:
“Bondage & Discipline, Sadism & Masochism.”
Whatever that means!
I sat fingering the soft supple leather collar all the way home and was beginning to feel quite randy. The idea of trying something new was really exciting and the idea of a child free house was even more so.
The metal studs around the collar felt totally gangster, the closer we got to home the more of a “badass dominatrix” I was beginning to feel!
Once home I ran upstairs with my newly purchased heavy metal and leather attire, not really sure if I was going to be able to actually put it on myself. The leather studded collar had attached handcuffs on a chain at the back for my ankles and wrists to be bound. No, it was impossible to do myself so I put on my sexiest bra and knickers and went downstairs in my heels and had to let hubs do the honours of chaining me up.
“Right before we put all this stuff on we need a safe word in case it’s too much for me,” I remind hubs with a just a tinge of sarcasm in my voice.
“I’m going with RED just like Anastasia in the film. Red means stop, ok are we clear?”
Hubs nods in agreement while trying to figure out the straps and chains. He has that distant glazed look in his eyes. I’ve seen him look like this before; only it’s usually when he unpacks something from IKEA that requires him to build it.
35 minutes later I am finally bound up like a celebratory pig ready for a spit roast, just the apple in my mouth is missing to finish the picture.
The collar around my neck is pulling as my hands and ankles are all bound up behind me. I’m starting to think that it isn’t a very flattering position to be tied up in, I’m feeling more like a beached whale than a sex siren!
Lying flat on the sofa is rather uncomfortable, so upon my request my very own Mr Grey moves me down to the end of the sofa, and hangs me over the armrest.
“I just need to go and get something from upstairs,” he says, before heading out of the room and leaving me hanging off the end of the couch like a sack of potatoes.
The weight of my head and shoulders is now hanging off the sofa and the rest of my body is pulling me backwards, causing the collar to become ridiculously tight. I’m choking, I literally can’t breathe and hubs is rummaging around upstairs for god knows what!
I try to yell “RED” but only a whisper escapes my now, very restricted windpipe.
“REEEEEEED,” again, a rasp of a whisper leaves my now very dry, purple lips.
Shit!!! I’m in a predicament here. I can’t breathe and I can’t move. My brain begins to go fuzzy and I feel the pulse beating in my temples as the pressure builds in my head. I consider my options. I can either throw all my weight to the side and push myself to the floor and risk breaking a shoulder blade or an arm. Or, I can push all my weight over the edge of the sofa and just hit the floor with my head and risk breaking my bloody neck.
Just as I’m about to go for the latter, hubs comes in with one of the kid’s horse riding crops! Jesus! He really went for the full Christian Grey effect, he left me here to die while he went to look for a riding crop!!!
“REEEEEEEDDDDDD,” I howl like a dog with laryngitis. “I can’t breathe.”
My face is the very picture of that safe-word, RED. My eyeballs feel like they are about to pop from their sockets due to the ever building blood pressure in my head.
Hubs quickly un-locks the cuffs holding my ankles and wrists together so my body can unfold like an old creaky deckchair. I fall to the floor clutching my throat and imagine how this could possibly look to anyone peeking in.
“Get this thing off me, it hurts and it itches like hell,” I gasped trying to get relief by pushing my fingers in-between my skin and the leather. The itch was unbearable!
Well, so much for the kinky date night. I’m sure the image of me hanging over the couch looking like something about to explode will stay with my husband forever.
I don’t think we’ll try our hand at any of that BDSM stuff again. It certainly killed what could have been a very pleasurable evening for us both. It’s not often we get a whole night child free.
And after my recent experience I now have a few more ideas of what BDSM should mean!
Bloodcurdling Daunting Strangulation Method
Body Dangling Sofa Massacre
Bloody Dangerous Suffocating Mechanism
And there it is, that was my Fifty Shades of Grey experience. I had an allergic reaction to the metal on the leather that left the most hideous red/purple blotchy hives on my skin. I looked like I’d recently been kidnapped and strangled, tried to hang myself or tried my hand at some BDSM that had gone horribly wrong, cough!!!
Thank god for neck scarves is all I can say.
By Amanda Carrington – Desperate Housewife