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The Music Room.
Notes from a Diary
Wednesday February 7th
Dear Diary:
Last night George again proposed anal sex, and again, I refused. I cannot help it. I just cannot relax back there. I shut up like a clam. Even when I am really excited I freeze if he touches me there.
I’ve had anal intercourse once, years ago, with Paul, my boyfriend in college. I wish I could say it was horrible and that I hated it. It wasn’t. It hurt, a little, but it wasn’t too bad, and … For heaven’s sake, let’s just admit it. I fucking liked it!
Of course I did not tell him I liked it. What would he think of me? In any case, I felt guilty about it, so it was good that we broke up soon after. Anal sex has been out of bounds since, and it never was a problem, until I met George.
It is obvious that having me anally is important to him. He can have my mouth and my pussy anytime he wants, and he does. He knows what to do, and does, to make my insides explode like a firecracker went off in there. But he wants more. And I want to give it to him. But I can’t.
Friday February 9th
Dear Diary:
I cannot consent to this penetration. It just isn’t right. I cannot enjoy this. That would wrong. What would it make me?
Sunday February 11th
Dear Diary:
I think I’ve stumbled on a solution. I cannot allow George to fuck me in the ass. That would make me such a whore. So I don’t allow him. I do not give him permission to do that. But if he wants to do it, he can. I must get things ready for his birthday. That is when it will happen.
February 16th
Dear Diary;
You are not going to believe this! I went into a sex shop. Me the big prude! I saw all the stuff they have there, and bought a vibrator. Hmmm, yummy. I tried to insert it in my ass, but no joy. I could not get it in. I put a lot of jelly in it, but nope, tight as a … very tight thing. I could not bear to actually buy any of the stuff they had there for anal use, but I ordered it from a webpage. I ordered it sent via Fedex, so it should be here soon.
February 21st
Dear Diary: The Fedex package is here. I saw all the stuff. There is a ball gag, leather cuffs, and a blindfold. Also I got three dildos, the largest is a foot long, and three inches wide! I don’t think he can use that in my bum; it cannot possibly stretch that far, although I have seen some movie clips in the net that make you wonder. There are three butt plugs; the largest is 4 inches wide. I am so afraid of what will happen next week. George knows nothing of this, of course.
February 24th
Dear Diary:
Everything is ready. I found this tack shop near the polo grounds. I bought a whip, and a crop. I also got some lengths of leather thong. I really do not know what will happen. I found a rattan cane at the thrift shop and bought that too. It is springy and makes a swoosh noise when you swing it through the air. I am so scared. My insides are in knots from fear; but my pussy is so wet…
March 1st
Dear Diary:
Today is the day. I don’t know if I can go through with this. George left for his office early, before I got up. I wonder if he thinks I forgot his birthday…
I got the music room ready. It was a bit of a hassle to rearrange the furniture, but the couch is out of the way. If he needs a bed, the Murphy bed will serve. The leather chair is in a corner, and the credenza is against the wall. I set the track lighting to illuminate the center from all sides. I checked and there will be no shadows. I wonder if George ever thought about this when he had the soundproof room built. I have only seen him use it to play classical music. I’ve got to go get everything ready.
Dear Diary;
It is now
I also put a bottle of KY jelly inside. I hope he uses it.
The whip, crop and cane are lying besides the box.
I need to take a bath and get ready.
Dear Diary:
Where has the day gone? It is almost five. I took a nice warm bath, and shaved all my hair down there. It was funny seeing me in the mirror trying to shave all my hair around my asshole. I am so nervous now. I am as smooth as a baby down there. I also gave myself an enema. It is funny; I can get the enema nozzle in there, but other than that, not even a finger. I also did my hair, and make-up. I look gorgeous. I barely have time to write the letter and get myself ready in the music room.
* * * *
I am ready.
I place the letter, written with purple ink, on crimson paper on the bedroom door. It reads:
“Dear George:
I very much want to be the woman you want me to be, in all respects. I am sorry that I cannot, willingly, give you what you want. I guess the nuns messed me up more than I thought.
I do however want you to have whatever you want from me so:
You are just going to have to take it yourself.
Your present is in the music room.
Don’t say anything.
Happy Birthday my love.”
The room is warm, dark except for the spot in the center. I have passed a belt over the beam in the center, and the leather cuffs hang from the belt. I give a final check to the credenza. Everything is as it should be. The bullwhip, crop and cane, neatly arranged beside the box. My note, on the box:
“Darling:
I am giving you everything. Tonight and always. But I may not be able to control myself. That’s what the gag is for. Tonight only moans and screams should come out of my mouth, and only … you, should be coming in. Use the gag if I say anything or object, or simply if you feel like it.
Remove it if you want to hear me scream or moan.
Have fun with me.
Lola”
A small stool sits under the cuffs. I tie his birthday card around my throat, hanging between my breasts. I am sure he will like the message:
“No safe words
No limits
No mercy
Happy Birthday”
I notice my wetness, cool even though I turned the thermostat up today. I get on the stool. I put on the blindfold. Have I forgotten anything? Once I put on the cuffs, there is no turning back. I put my wrists in the cuffs, just as I practiced. I do not know what time it is. I kick the stool off and hang from my wrists. My toes do not reach the floor. I did not know my wrists would hurt like that. I feel a pang of regret. Then I think. “That will probably be the least of the pain I will suffer today” I hang and wait, time stands still.
The click of his key in the door.
Panic: Oh my God, I hope he hasn’t brought any friends from work. Steps. His steps, only his; I sigh in relief.
The door opens. I am silent.
The end
PS:
If you want details, you can read the sequel.
Otherwise: Use your imagination!
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