... Sex-wise, Malcolm was used to taking what he wanted when he wanted it. Physically he was powerful enough to control any situation. He welcomed a good fight but in bed nobody had ever put up much of a struggle. So when I tried to show him that if he would only hold back a bit and let me regulate the build up ... but it wasn’t what he was used to. It was too easy for him to take over whenever he felt the urge. The cellotape was my idea. We’d both got quite giggly while I was trying to get him to hold back and control himself. I trooped out of bed and down into the living room and came back with a roll of cellotape and said “If you can’t keep you hands to yourself you’ll have to let me help you”. So without any protest he let me tape one hand to the bed head. He was in a stupid mood and said in an Irish accent “I can fight any man with one hand tied behind me back!” So I said I’d tape the other one as well. He laughed as he let me, shouting “Help! Help I’m being accosted by a sex mad female!! Help! Rape!” and he was laughing and struggling ... and I don’t think he realised how strong cellotape is when it’s wrapped round a few times.
It was ever so dramatic. He’s a big feller and for the first time in his life he wasn’t in physical control of the situation. He did his damnedest to break free and I waited for him to convince himself that he was well and truly fixed. His legs were under the bed covers and I was sitting on them so they weren’t too much of a problem. We both had an incredible time. After I’d teased him a bit he was getting so worked up he told me to cut him loose so he could take control and I said no way. He was all steamed up and at first he didn’t believe I was serious ... but I was having a ball like I’d never had before. It was the hottest sex we’d ever had together and it went on and on and on. We were both deep into new territory, with new rules, new possibilities ... and before that night was over we both understood that there were places we’d never even dreamed of. It was fabulous.
Next morning he wasn’t so sure. Ever since I’d known him he’d sniggered about perverts and people who needed ‘kinky’ sex ...
... For me the altered balance of physical power had opened up new vistas of tactile, emotional, sensual and imaginative possibilities. For Malc his brief experience of powerlessness had (he admitted much later) broken down so many barriers and made him realise how potentially destructive to our relationship his limited sexual horizons had been.
But speaking chronologically the cellotape stayed out of the bedroom for over two months. Then, one night when Malc was trying to persuade me to let him go off on a six week deep water diving course, in wheedling to get me to agree he said he’d let me tape him up again. Ho-ho, I thought, he’s been thinking about it too. Our second bout was even more fantastic than the first because I taped his ankles as well that time. Purely a practical measure because with his weight training he could throw me off or trap me with his legs. The progression of the scene that I improvised took him through excitement, frustration, real impotent anger, desperation and eventual physical exhaustion to a point where he’d have agreed to anything to get me to stop teasing him.
Somehow he grew up five years in that one night. For the next week he smiled a lot and we were closer than we’d ever been.
More about this story