Finally I make the roundabout that tells me the A-road is over. Sort of there now. A death black wintery night has set in. And it's only six.
I point my car toward home and to Helena. Or tonight: 'Dr Fister' as she put in the text.
A break in traffic sees me check it for the tenth time.
'TONIGHT WE PLAY: VET VACCINATION. You: Tom. Me: Dr Fister. Dinner in town after.'
I'll take the food, but the game? This assumption I'll be in the mood?
Ok. I admit. When she's 'decided', then our sexploration is really fun. Fastidious, Munich-born Helena does do her homework. Plus I know she has a thing for me as this 'Tom' cat she concocted.
Yes, I have a rubber fetish. The black sheen, the sappy odour, the flutters and creaks as the material stretches snugly to the physique. Must concentrate on the road. Five minutes away.
But no, this 'Tom'. Helena has developed all manner of things she sticks to my latex hood. She actually giggles fastening the belt-tail. This is all karma for my obsessive requests to Catwoman her up I surmise. Oh I so love this woman. The dream woman as my constant sex dream too. A man has to stay sharp not to screw a good thing like this up.
So, this text, the very You: Tom has to be a no-brainer.
But vaccination? How will that happen?
So far she hasn't followed through on this Dr Fister monicker. Yet. It could even happen this very evening. I shift on the car-seat leather and feel that I'm damp with agitation.
Then I'm at the front door. Where did I park? Wow. That moment when you're work-tired and play spaced and remember nothing from five minutes ago.
Well, in we go. Where is she? I call up for her but there is a dead echo, my words landing me self-conscious and alone. She's gone out? Now? What? My heart falls and churns, a dancing butterfly. TONIGHT WE PLAY.
I flick a light on and there it is: our newly-acquired wicker laundry basket. I laughed at her when she got it: much too big. Now I see it opening an untold abyss of mischief. Helena had made a window and fixed bamboo bars.
Inside sits an envelope marked 'No.1' on a pile of gun-metal grey latex. I pull it all out and it flops elastically, hitting my olfactory senses with its perverting sweetness. It's a real 'cat'suit. All in one, with a white tux, paws, and a hood with a...I chuckle...with a hood-mask not unlike Tom from the cartoons, and, with fitted pinnae, plastic whiskers and insane grin. Inside I would have to grip a gag with my teeth keeping my mouth open. Thankfully it seems airy so I don't feel daunted. But how demeaning. This must have made Helena laugh and wet all at once.
There's another envelope marked 'No. 2' in the basket I notice. I open No.1.
GET IN, it says on the card.
There is lube and so I undress and begin the gliding-in process. Halfway in the suit it occurs to me to check the house. I try and fly up the stairs but it's a tentative creep with my five toes in the three holes for paws. I hold the suit up as I ascend, feeling ridiculous. The things we do for kink. I open doors and check rooms. Nope. I take a quick piss and wash my hands. I stare at in the bathroom mirror and tell myself to calm down. But returning downstairs I nearly go flying as I slide on some lube in my heel. I imagine Helena having to explain a half-dressed and dead latex catman to the police.
The lubing continues and I'm in the suit proper now, my paws negotiating the backzip leash well and I pull into the cocoon of second skin. In the hall mirror the attached Tom head awaits my transformation. But I decide to try and open the second envelope.
I end up clamping it and ripping it open with my teeth. I wonder if this is part of the game. I wonder if I'm being filmed. The card falls in the basket. I reach in and try to flick it over to read it. Got it, at last. And then I see frustratingly what it says.
I smile. Ok. I'd better do this. Hood on, and in her bloody basket. I get the picture, then she storms all smug I guess. I pretend not to check for cameras, but I can't help but give the room one last sweep as I tug into the hood. More leashed zips help me secure the neck tight. Ok. She'll be happy with this. I realise my mouth can't talk wrapped as it is round the hood's internal plug.
I feel compelled to jump in the basket. I do feel like a dilberry. But I'm Helena's pet, her gift, her animal, and these ideas engorge my human barb inside the warmth of my latex pouch. I sit back with a restricted view through the funny bamboo bars to take a minute.
The front door goes SLAM! I hear keys.
Clip clopping. A stop.
'Good. You're in.'
In a nano-second the basket lid flaps shut, enclosing me intensely into shadow. I reach behind to stand but I hear straps and buckles and quick fingerwork over clasps.
This is not Helena, that was not her voice. What's going on? I want to call out but all I can manage is a dribbly 'raaaarrrg.... raaaarrg'.
I'm just like a cat, ready to go to the vet.
I hope you enjoyed our little tale of Tom.
You will note that we had a couple of fetishes in there: rubber and pet-play.
It's obvious the two partners enjoy conniving sessions for each other and there seems to be a lot of communication and preparation. Now I'm not going to come all over filth and safety officer on you – unless you pay of course – but let's check over three areas in this story that we would have hoped would be brought up in a pre-session discussion.
1. Mood: Remember Tom thinking: 'This assumption I'll be in the mood?'
Sometimes our partner isn't up for kink japes and it's important to check because this is the central tenet of consent. It's not about gender cliché – whether someone will automatically be a sex or kink machine for you – it's about their character traits. In the story it appears that Helena knows 'Tom' likes her when she is in the mood, which importantly, is not the same as the stereotype of a man always being up for it and especially for a certain type of activity.
2. Breath restriction: 'Inside I would have to grip a gag keeping my mouth open'.
This is obviously something Tom knows about and is comfortable with. Note, he has to get in a confined space too, but he seems okay, perhaps because it's only wicker and bamboo as opposed to a metal cage. Tom's paws are free so there is an element of DIY safety for him in case he has breathing difficulties.
3. A third party: 'This is not Helena, that was not her voice.'
Obviously the introduction of a mystery woman is done for dramatic effect, both for the purposes of erotica and the framework of Tom and Helena's kink session. In this case Tom seems a bit shocked, which is probably an intended result. We'll see what happens next time with the second part of the story. However, generally, if you're having a:
- pre-session discussion (negotiation as it sometimes called), and;
- communicating signals during play, and then;
- regrouping and swapping thoughts in aftercare;
you and your loving partner will have needed to include any third player with clear talk about boundaries (limits) and expectations (kinks).
I hope this helps. For more kink fun and safety, check around this website where you can find details of my book and app The Book of Kinky Sex Games which has 69 infinitely rubberizable kink games, tons of safety tips, a glossary and 13 chapters of kink lifestyle support.