Bondage and Other Tales

Marisa beat Harley along the hall back to the living room, mostly on being more agile and less hampered by clothing.

She slowed down to a cautious prowl when she reached the doorway, and took only a single step through it.

“I think you’re safe coming in,” Claudia said, from her seat cross-legged on the floor with her back to the Reverie box. She didn’t open her eyes or move at all, which was a little eerie, especially with her clockwork limbs visible. “This is beautiful, though.”

Everything seemed to be made of crystal, glittering with soft coloured light from countless invisible sources. The couch was now a huge throne, the seat a normal height but wide enough for, say, one lady in extremely elaborate voluminous skirts, or two normal people, flanked by immense columns of sparkling crystal with a hint of further space behind; the furniture on the opposite side became a crystal cabinet with a translucent front, the suggestion of jewelled treasures visible within—probably Reverie doing its best with the limitations of real space.

The broad doorway to the dining room was blocked again, this time with an unbroken expanse of crystal. A series of lines had been etched into it, and she could see round sockets, the right size for the keys, in the same five colours.

“Brat,” Harley muttered, catching up with her. “I’m not used to running in heels. Even if I’m not actually wearing them, it feels like I am.” She surveyed the room. “Final door, I take it.”

“Yes,” Claudia said.

“Any thoughts yet on what went wrong?”

Claudia opened her eyes. “I could be dramatic and say, you did, but that wouldn’t be fair or accurate. Reverie made an assessment, while you were answering questions, about what you both want. That includes thoughts that you had but didn’t really notice you were having. Ever since, it has been trying its best to provide what you both want most, and it’s doing it with no ability to discriminate or judge between, for example, things you know and accept that you want, and things you want that you don’t know or accept. All logs suggest that it has been, right from the start, providing opportunities for you both to do what it thinks will make you happy, and it has been repeatedly marking the results as having been enjoyable but not quite ringing the bell. Which suggests that it is throwing opportunities at you that you have been failing to take full advantage of, so it has just kept trying variations. Whatever it is, it’s something you want really badly. Figure it out, guys. If you want to talk, just say the word and I’ll swap levels so I won’t hear anything you say, I’ll be looking at the code and talking to Sal about the debug report.”

“I think you’re probably fine,” Harley said. “And I think you might be helpful. I’m pretty sure I know at least part of what that covers. Ris, c’mere.” Harley caught Marisa’s hand and drew her over to the throne. “You chose a catgirl avatar and I chose my dragon-lady deliberately, but the way we’re both dressed is fifty-fifty our own imagery. Right, Claudia?”

“Yes,” Claudia said. “Not evenly for each of you, but it averages out that way.”

“My admittedly-kinky mind doesn’t get all the credit for my being dressed fairly dommishly in all this gorgeous black leather and fun claws and all, and it gets even less of the credit for your current look, which is adorable and sexy and submissive as hell. You have ended up chained to a wall reading directions for me, chained to a wall for being a brat, blind and forced to depend on me, tied up by vines twice, and just had a clay floor climbing gradually up you while we were trying to put that cog puzzle together and it got up to waist-level by the time we finished. I’m seeing a running theme here, and while you look cute restrained, with one brief exception I haven’t been getting to do the restraining and even that didn’t involve rope, so it isn’t coming from my fantasies.”

“So what, Mistress?” Marisa said. “Doesn’t mean anything, any more than you deciding to be a girl. Why are you assuming that’s the big secret?”

“I’m seeing a pattern. I’ve been wondering whether there might be something behind it. I think Claudia just confirmed that there probably is.”

“I don’t particularly want to be cornered into having to dig around in my own head, just because I was willing to test a game, Mistress!”

“Then tell Claudia to kick it and end it that way. I imagine she has at least some data by this point that they can work with. But you did say you wanted to talk, and it might make you feel better to just do that now.”

“I wanted a couple of days to let my hormones settle down and let my head clear so I can figure out how much of what I keep feeling is me and how much is being created, Mistress.”

“It’s one hundred percent your own,” Claudia said. “It’s not a brainwashing machine that can convince you that something feels natural or pleasant or enjoyable. We checked every possible way to make sure that there is no way it can trigger the reward centre of the brain directly—that is seriously dangerous dystopian sci-fi addiction shit, right there. Or anything similar. Or pain, for that matter. It detects and it plays a bit with sensory input to alter, to a finite degree, what you physically feel, hear, and see, but that is as deep as it goes. It creates situations. How you feel about them is absolutely up to you. Just, y’know, in the interests of making sure the info is accurate. As for shutting down, yes, I have more info at this point, and the offer stands for me to shut it down hard any time you ask. Being forced into anything is not at all okay. But Harley’s probably right about it being helpful to talk things through with friends.”

Marisa said nothing for a long moment, struggling to organize the chaotic thoughts in her head. “I think you’re both reading way too much into this, Mistress,” she said, already knowing that it wasn’t true. “Lots of people fantasize about lots of things. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Fantasies about being tied up and stuff are, well, everyone has those.”

“No,” Harley said. “Not everyone, of any gender, has submissive fantasies. Lots do, and lots have daydreams that they don’t want to pursue. Which is also fine. But a deliberate and informed decision not to explore isn’t the same thing as general denial or making assumptions.”

She knew that. Well, the latter part of that.

She also knew her friends cared about her and wanted her happy. She’d probably do the same.

“Okay, fine. I have lots of submissive fantasies, Mistress. Have for as long as I can remember. But I have absolutely zero intention of ever acting on any of them.”

“Is there a reason?” Harley asked. “You usually have reasons for decisions.”

“Three of them. One, it’s bloody hard enough finding anyone to be in a relationship with, Mistress, without complicating things further.”

“Well, that’s fair enough, although arguably, leaving things you genuinely want off the table just makes a genuinely-satisfying relationship impossible instead of just more difficult. It depends on the person, but sometimes, it’s pervasive enough that if it’s missing, the whole relationship is doomed to greyscale at best. What else?”

“An old friend started experimenting. She got really into it, actually, Mistress. It turned into just about the only thing she was interested in. Until she ended up meeting up with someone who wouldn’t stop when she said to. He claimed afterwards that he thought she was just pretending and didn’t mean it, even though she says she safeworded. She was a serious mess afterwards.”

“That’s nasty,” Claudia said.

“That’s an understatement, “Harley agreed. “Unfortunately, assholes exist. Anyone who refuses to respect a safeword is a sad excuse for a human being. I’m sorry your friend went through that. I’m not trying to shift the blame to her, not even remotely, but when people find something new and exciting, it’s pretty common to throw ourselves into it for a while, possibly to excess. That can happen with kink, especially if there’s also a feeling of finally being free to express a side that’s been buried. It can lead to making hasty judgements that ignore red flags because someone wants to believe it’s safe or is afraid they’ll lose their only chance. It still doesn’t make it your friend’s fault, because he should never have done that, regardless.”

“Most things have some risk attached,” Claudia said. “Putting yourself online in videos opens you to, at best, malicious or thoughtless public comments. Any relationship can include betrayal. Hell, I’m trusting you two that you’ll keep quiet about Reverie, not because of the NDA, because let’s face it, we do not have the resources for endless legal battles and we’ll have less if we can’t keep hold of our patent, I’m just trusting you. I have a history of trusting Harley, but it hasn’t come up before so much with you. I’m still not worried.”

Marisa paused. “History?”

“We met at a kinky event and had fun and stayed in touch and got closer over time with more trust. No sex, as such, that was never the point, just me getting restrained one way or another and both of us enjoying it thoroughly. Harley really is an artist and definitely my favourite and most trusted rigger at this point. Been too busy to indulge in that for ages, though. Which is a shame, because for me, with someone I trust completely and feel safe with, it’s great for dealing with stress and racing thoughts and stuff. And I’ve done stuff with others who would never have violated that trust. The existence of rapey powertripping assholes doesn’t mean they’re all there is, or even the majority.”

“Tell me if you need it,” Harley chided Claudia. “You know I’ll make time for you on your terms, no strings attached—so to speak.”

“I know, just... busy, aware that you’re busy, all that junk, making it to easy to put it off.”

Okay, that was, to say the least, unexpected. Not a problem. Marisa just found herself caught off-stride... and possibly a little jealous?

“It’s still a risk,” Marisa argued. “And where there’s risk, there’s also a need to assess whether the possible payoff is worth the risk.”

“Absolutely,” Harley said. “Boundaries, trust, intentions, skills, communication, are all big factors, and now and then accidents do happen despite all efforts to take every factor into account. But that also implies making the most accurate assessment possible of both the risk and the payoff, and nothing I’m hearing suggests that’s the case.”

“Maybe. Doing some thinking was, y’know, meant to be happening before talking, Mistress.”

“Fair enough. You said there were three reasons.”

Marisa hesitated, already aware that it was much less rational, then gave up and blurted it out. “Since I turned, like, sixteen, my grandmother has been constantly asking me when I’m going to get married to a man who will be a good provider and a good father and a proper head of the household, settle down, stop trying to take on the world myself, just devote myself to a husband and kids, because that is the only way any woman can possibly be happy and fulfilled. Need to point out that this is not the grandmother who spent the first twenty years of her life in India and who only cares that her daughter found a man she has a very strong and mutually-supportive relationship with, regardless of colour. It’s the white one who grew up around here, and she keeps trying her best to introduce me to appropriate candidates. I am not going to give up everything I’ve worked for and be somebody’s bloody doormat and cheerleader. Or flip it around and end up someone’s pet and fucktoy. Or any combination.”

Harley paused for a couple of heartbeats. “That’s... not the same thing, Ris. I mean, there are kinky couples that do both of those, sure, but it’s a negotiated arrangement with consent on both sides. There’s a ton of pop culture crap out there that muddies the waters. It fudges the line between kink and abuse, or leaps right over it waving a flag. More often than not, I end up yawning, rolling my eyes, or disgusted. If you want reliable and realistic info on responsible kink, then all you had to do was ask. Anyone who ever says that you need to kneel to them twenty-four-seven with no boundaries to be submissive, has no idea what they’re talking about. Some of the strongest and most independent people I’ve ever met, of any gender, have been submissives who know what they want and go after that. Claudia included. Everyone’s unique. The trick, just like any other relationship, is finding someone else who has the mirror needs, or close enough for it to be feasible. What on earth do you think I’ve been doing in most of my relationships, anyway? You only met Elaine and only for a couple of months, but I didn’t think there was anything suggesting that I was keeping her from being herself.”

“Yeah, well, you’re... you, Mistress. Not necessarily a representative sample.”

“Not necessarily not, either.”

“True. I don’t know. I know that one doesn’t quite make sense, but it’s there. I think it actually messed up the one really good relationship I had with a man, to tell you the truth, and that’s just sad.”

“Yes, it is, but feelings and associations are what they are, and family can be very good at implanting slow-release toxic bombs.”

Not even sure anymore why, or what, she was trying to resist, Marisa sighed and let herself slump against the back of the throne. It wasn’t particularly comfortable. She shifted sideways, and Harley obligingly wrapped an arm around her to give her something warmer and softer to lean on. “I really don’t know, Mistress. Probably I already knew a lot of this? Or would have if I’d bothered to think? Probably it’s just scary to say, hey, I’m not just pansexual and mostly homoromantic, I’m freaky in other ways, too. And to take that step of letting someone else have that much of an opportunity to hurt me. And now, on top of everything else, I get to try to figure out why I’m actually loving my kitty ears and tail and colour and jingly bell so much.”

Harley’s arm tightened around her, and the wing on that side folded in closer. “Freaks are always the best people. Nobody’s going to push you into a lifetime of wearing a collar, with or without a bell. I’m not going to chase after you and try to convince you to do or try anything, because you know the option is there. I very highly doubt that Claudia is.”

“Hell no!” Claudia said.

“But admitting feelings, at least to yourself, is generally a good idea. And it might convince Reverie that it succeeded at giving you what you really want.”

“Don’t see what’s wrong with enjoying a bit of bondage, just for itself, or some kinky sex where you’re both enjoying playing roles,” Claudia muttered. “Whichever roles. And for the record, people can change over time. I still miss being tied up, but I’m also starting to develop some curiosity about the flip side of that. I just haven’t really had time to do much research, let alone practice.”

“Anything I know, I’ll teach you,” Harley said.

“Asking you was also on the list. Because, y’know, I trust you. Anyway. I don’t know yet whether that helped, but I doubt Reverie was only tangled up over one of you. Which means you’ve almost certainly got a blind spot too, Harley.”

“I genuinely have no idea,” Harley said. “I’m human, so I’m quite sure I have several, but I haven’t the foggiest what Reverie picked up. I can’t think of any kind of repeated pattern of anything it’s thrown at me in the game—aside from occasional bits of dommishness, which isn’t exactly repressed or closeted behaviour. That I can be attracted to Ris, especially looking like that and calling me Mistress and sometimes restrained or having to follow instructions, isn’t really a secret either, as far as I know. We did acknowledge that already and chose not to act on it, and I’m fine with respecting that, submissive streak or not. Ris? Anything you spotted? The problem with blind spots is that it might not even be possible to tell that one exists from inside.”

Marisa paused, yanking her spinning thoughts away from her own internal chaos and onto Harley. “I honestly can’t think of anything, Mistress. You’ve been taking the lead a lot but that’s the role plus it’s always more natural for you. You deliberately chose a female avatar to test the game, so that isn’t hidden. I don’t know. Can Reverie sort itself out with just one of us admitting stuff, and wrap up properly?”

“Quite likely,” Claudia said. “Although it might be worth continuing to think about it. Go to it. I believe you have one final puzzle.”