I Don’t Want to Know

"Are you absolutely, positively certain that you really want to go through with this?"

I questioned myself one more time, and nodded. "Yes. Please. I know it's strange, but I really do want to do this."

My fiancé shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm actually agreeing to do this for you, but..."

"I know. Like I said, it's strange. Even stranger than wanting you to choke me when I'm bound and on the verge of cumming."

He was definitely hesitating, stalling. The next move was his to make, and he was not making it.

"You do have it, don't you?" I asked, trying not to use an accusatory tone.

"Don't worry, pet," he replied, not looking at me even though he held my hand. "I bought it. Rather, a friend of a friend of a friend bought it for me, but I do have it."

"Good," I said firmly. "I really want to do this."

"I know," he said, finally looking into my eyes, trying to find the answers to his unspoken questions. "I just can't believe that..."

"I know," I responded. I pulled him close for a hug, and was surprised to feel him trembling just slightly, even though I was the one who was about to willingly lose all sense of memory and self for several hours.

"This is just so... so..."

"'Strange?'" I finished for him. "I know it is. I don't understand it myself, but I definitely want to do this. I don't want to know what happens to me. I want to feel the wonder afterward, the concern..."

"Okay." He finally pulled back from me and stood from the sofa. "I'll go do it."

"Thank you."

He retreated to the kitchen, leaving me alone. The darkness outside allowed me to see my reflection in the window, and I studied my face. I saw a recent college graduate, worldly yet naïve, struggling with the unknown as she was about to embark upon a bizarre journey most never want to make... yet she was doing it quite willingly, moreso than the one man she trusted more than anyone else in her young life. I stood and closed the curtains, to provide us the privacy for the inexplicable event which was about to occur in the small apartment.

When my fiancé finally returned, he seemed far more nervous than I had expected. The glass of Bailey's shook noticeably in his hands as he approached me.

"This is it? It's in there?"

He only nodded as he handed me the glass.

I was about to take a sip when he stopped me. "Let's sit," he said returning to the sofa and motioning for me to sit in his lap.

Nothing else was said. Nothing else needed to be said. I sat in my fiancé's lap and slowly drank the chocolate-flavored alcohol, unable to smell or taste anything unusual. As I drank, his hand slowly, gently, respectfully kneaded a breast, subtly arousing me, preparing me for the unpreparable. When I was finished, I leaned forward to set the empty glass upon the coffee table, then leaned back into his strong chest, closing my eyes, waiting...

"I'm sure most guys would love to have this chance presented to them," I said softly, reaching up to caress his cheek. "A helpless young woman passed out, unable to say no, unable to defend herself, unable to stop them from doing whatever they wanted with her, from using her body for their pleasure no matter how rough or twisted they wanted to be with her."

"Sure, it's a fantasy," he responded, practically whispering into my ear, "but some fantasies are probably best left strictly as fantasies. Or, with some nameless babe, it doesn't really matter, but with someone you know, someone you love, it takes on a very different dimension which is hard to handle in some respects."

"Well, keep handling my chest as we wait for it to kick in," I replied, not yet feeling sleepy or lethargic. I arched my back away from his chest, pressing more of my breast into his hand. He fortunately took the hint and brought his other hand to my chest, fondling both breasts, adding to my arousal, causing me to whimper softly.

A thought crossed my mind: Would I be able to look him in the eye when I emerged from this bizarre experience? But it was definitely too late, for I had already consumed the spiked drink.

I could feel the telltale hardness lengthening between us, but before I could reach between us to stroke him through his jeans, I felt the beginning of lethargy. A few moments later, I began to sway – just a little, but it was noticeable to us both.

Carefully, I was shifted upon my fiancé's lap, then he stood and picked me up, carrying me. I remember being carried to the bedroom, being gently set upon the bed, and a tear of fear trickling from my left eye as he reached for one of the leather cuffs we always kept chained to the bedposts. I remember having absolutely no control of my body as he moved each arm and leg into position to buckle each cuff to me, and I remember thinking that since I was still fully dressed, one of my favorite outfits would end up being destroyed for him to truly have his way with me...

My next memory is of being cuddled in the darkness. I was no longer bound, nor was I dressed. There was an ache of rawness within me, and my thighs were sticky – presumably from our combined love. My limbs felt heavy, but I was able to reach for my fiancé, envelope him as he slept, and pull him closer the act causing me to roll to my back upon the bed. He stirred, then finally lifted himself from me, looking into my eyes in the moonlit bedroom.

Amazingly, I could look into his eyes. If anything, the flame of love burned ever more brightly within him.

As we kissed, I slowly became aware of the torn clothes still clinging to me, of the scent of sex which still permeated the bedroom. Clearly, my body had indeed been used for his pleasure, and I had absolutely no memory of the event.

I still wonder if I can live with that.