nods politely at us.
“Mr Hardisty, Freya, I trust you’re both enjoying your evening.”
Nicholas Hardisty smiles amiably, relaxed and casual, his arm loosely slung across my shoulders. “Yes, so far. And it promises to get even better. Could I trouble you for a blindfold please?”
“Of course. Anything else?”
“Yes, there will be later. Would you mind coming over to us in a few minutes please? For now just the blindfold though.”
“Certainly.” He turns to me then. “And may I ask, Freya, what arrangements have you agreed regarding safe words?”
I stand, waiting for Nicholas to answer for me. He offers nothing so I glance up at him. He just shrugs and gestures toward Frank with his head, indicating that I should speak for myself. I hold up my hands to show the huge guardian of public safety my new wristbands.
He nods once, this time directing the gesture at Mr Hardisty. “Very good. I assume red means ‘stop’ and the yellow means ‘caution’?”
I nod, and smile confidently at him. I can do this. I can actually join in now and do this. Maybe I could have managed something along these lines before—it’s hardly rocket science, just a couple of colored wristbands—but it’s so incredibly difficult to explain even the simplest things, let alone negotiate, when the people around me don’t understand signing. And even though I always have my phone or my iPad with me, it’s in my bag, back in the cloakroom. No one here ever handed me their phone or a set of wristbands before.
Apparently satisfied that matters are under reasonable control, the huge man slips through a door behind him into a store room where lots of miscellaneous paraphernalia is kept. He returns a moment later with a thick felt blindfold, the sort that ties at the back. Nicholas turns to me immediately, places it over my eyes and ties it tightly around my head.
“Can you see anything?”
I shake my head, reaching out with my hands to feel where he is. He steps in front of me and I clutch the front of his shirt.
“As I said before, your eyes are very expressive, you tell me a lot with your eyes, about how you’re feeling, how you’re responding, and I’m taking a risk covering them. And what I have in mind for you tonight might feel strange, might surprise you, might frighten you a bit. It’s meant to. But I won’t hurt you. Do you trust me, Freya?”
I nod, but in reality, despite my wristbands, I’m pretty nervous. I feel totally cut off. He can’t understand my signing, and without my sight I can’t write, I can’t communicate anything except with my wristbands. But now his hands are on my shoulders, stroking and soothing, his voice easing into my head, steadying and grounding me.
“Trust me, I won’t let anything happen to you. And you can stop me at any time, you know that. Okay?”
I nod again. He takes my hand, and starts to lead me across the room. My footsteps falter as I follow him, terrified I’m going to trip or bump into something. I don’t though, he smoothly negotiates me around the dungeon until I have absolutely no idea where I am or what equipment he has led me to. I’m disorientated and totally lost.
“Shuffle backwards, slowly.” His soft instruction is murmured into my ear. I obey and feel something behind me, against my bare legs and back, some sort of apparatus, a solid structure.
“Raise your arms over your head.”
Trusting still, I do as I’m told. And immediately wish I hadn’t. He quickly secures my left wrist with a strap, then my right. It feels like leather and my arms are held above my head, my hands stretched wide apart. My last means of signaling suddenly withdrawn I start to tug, to struggle in earnest. He’s there again, close, his breath against my ear.
“Be still, Freya, trust me.”
But it’s no good, I’m shaking my head wildly, scared, starting to lose it. He takes my face between his palms, holds my head still and places his mouth on mine.
The effect is
“Mr Hardisty, Freya, I trust you’re both enjoying your evening.”
Nicholas Hardisty smiles amiably, relaxed and casual, his arm loosely slung across my shoulders. “Yes, so far. And it promises to get even better. Could I trouble you for a blindfold please?”
“Of course. Anything else?”
“Yes, there will be later. Would you mind coming over to us in a few minutes please? For now just the blindfold though.”
“Certainly.” He turns to me then. “And may I ask, Freya, what arrangements have you agreed regarding safe words?”
I stand, waiting for Nicholas to answer for me. He offers nothing so I glance up at him. He just shrugs and gestures toward Frank with his head, indicating that I should speak for myself. I hold up my hands to show the huge guardian of public safety my new wristbands.
He nods once, this time directing the gesture at Mr Hardisty. “Very good. I assume red means ‘stop’ and the yellow means ‘caution’?”
I nod, and smile confidently at him. I can do this. I can actually join in now and do this. Maybe I could have managed something along these lines before—it’s hardly rocket science, just a couple of colored wristbands—but it’s so incredibly difficult to explain even the simplest things, let alone negotiate, when the people around me don’t understand signing. And even though I always have my phone or my iPad with me, it’s in my bag, back in the cloakroom. No one here ever handed me their phone or a set of wristbands before.
Apparently satisfied that matters are under reasonable control, the huge man slips through a door behind him into a store room where lots of miscellaneous paraphernalia is kept. He returns a moment later with a thick felt blindfold, the sort that ties at the back. Nicholas turns to me immediately, places it over my eyes and ties it tightly around my head.
“Can you see anything?”
I shake my head, reaching out with my hands to feel where he is. He steps in front of me and I clutch the front of his shirt.
“As I said before, your eyes are very expressive, you tell me a lot with your eyes, about how you’re feeling, how you’re responding, and I’m taking a risk covering them. And what I have in mind for you tonight might feel strange, might surprise you, might frighten you a bit. It’s meant to. But I won’t hurt you. Do you trust me, Freya?”
I nod, but in reality, despite my wristbands, I’m pretty nervous. I feel totally cut off. He can’t understand my signing, and without my sight I can’t write, I can’t communicate anything except with my wristbands. But now his hands are on my shoulders, stroking and soothing, his voice easing into my head, steadying and grounding me.
“Trust me, I won’t let anything happen to you. And you can stop me at any time, you know that. Okay?”
I nod again. He takes my hand, and starts to lead me across the room. My footsteps falter as I follow him, terrified I’m going to trip or bump into something. I don’t though, he smoothly negotiates me around the dungeon until I have absolutely no idea where I am or what equipment he has led me to. I’m disorientated and totally lost.
“Shuffle backwards, slowly.” His soft instruction is murmured into my ear. I obey and feel something behind me, against my bare legs and back, some sort of apparatus, a solid structure.
“Raise your arms over your head.”
Trusting still, I do as I’m told. And immediately wish I hadn’t. He quickly secures my left wrist with a strap, then my right. It feels like leather and my arms are held above my head, my hands stretched wide apart. My last means of signaling suddenly withdrawn I start to tug, to struggle in earnest. He’s there again, close, his breath against my ear.
“Be still, Freya, trust me.”
But it’s no good, I’m shaking my head wildly, scared, starting to lose it. He takes my face between his palms, holds my head still and places his mouth on mine.
The effect is
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