I have had many great times with Ms. Julia over the years. One time that stands out as particularly memorable was a time she had me hogtied and gagged on the floor of her TV room. I was tied with rope in front of her sofa. She had moved the coffee table away slightly and instructed me to lie on my side, facing the sofa. She went to the kitchen to prepare herself some lunch. I could hear vegetables being chopped and the sizzle of a frying pan. I could hear the clank of plates and cutlery. I could only wonder what she had planned for me.
She came back to the TV room with her lunch, sat on the sofa, and put on some calm, instrumental music. All I could see of her from my angle was her bare legs and feet which she had wedged between me and the sofa, pinning me against the coffee table. I listened to her eating her lunch for a few minutes. Then, out of the blue, she kicked me in the balls.
I was trapped. All I could do was let out a grunt through the ball gag. I waited as the wave of pain slowly subsided. My arms and feet were tied tight behind my back. I could not move. A few minutes later, she kicked me again. I could not understand how she could kick me so hard with so little room to maneuver. She caressed me with her feet but I was having a hard time thinking about anything other than when the next kick was coming. She leisurely finished her lunch and picked up a magazine. I could hear her flipping through it as she ran her feet over me. Then, without warning, another kick.
I liked the feeling of being objectified and helpless; the casual intimacy of being with her as she browsed a magazine; the catharsis of not being able to think about my “to do” list. I left with my head in the clouds and my thinking clearer. And, no, that is not a contradiction.