Impossible Role-Play

One of the ways I knew the current boyfriend was a keeper is that when I told him about this job, he was initially a bit uncomfortable but rallied quickly.  To the point where he said, hey, if I’m up on IM and you get stuck on a call, IM me.  I can help you.  I’m a guy, I can tell you what to say.  Bear that moment in mind, and let’s see what happened, shall we?

We have established that I don’t really like role play:

Nor am I an especially good dominatrix, being more of a submissive by nature:

So you can imagine the moment of OH CRAP that I felt when the nice man told me he wanted to do a specific role play, a domination fantasy and also that several other girls had tried and failed to appropriately execute his fantasy.

I’m thinking, dude, hang up now, save yourself some money.  There’s just no way.  But I think, no, I can do this.  I do a lot of things I’m not comfortable with and it’s good for me.

Allrighty, so what do you want, precisely?

“I want to pretend to be a wealthy elderly businessman.  You’re my young, sexy assistant.  I treat you like crap, but I’ve promised to leave you my frozen sperm when I die so you can use it to make a baby and have access to my estate that way.  You’re always a little afraid that I’m not going to really leave you my sperm, but you really want it so you keep working for me.”

Right about now, I’m thinking, you’ve watched yourself a wee bit too much Ugly Betty, my friend.  What else’ve you got?

“In this fantasy, I wake up to find myself gagged and tied to a table.  You come in.  At first I’m not sure if you’re going to help me or if you’re why I’m tied down.  You taunt and tease me, ticking various parts of my body, laughing like an evil queen in the early Disney movies and finally coaxing my cream so you don’t have to take my shit anymore.  I’ll be gagged, remember, so I can’t give you direction.”

FUCK.  I have no IDEA.

So I IM the boyfriend, while I start talking, doing as much as I can considering I’m WAY over my head.

I send him the entire scenario–props to my multi-tasking on that, to be talking the beginnings of this fantasy while typing the synapsis–and wait while he ponders it.

Normally, he’s lightening fast on the replies.  The pause lengthens.

Finally, he responds.   “It’s impossible.  It’s almost like a Mensa test, seriously.”

The boyfriend is smart.  Very smart.  Not far from being Dr. Boyfriend, actually.  And he’s a guy.  He says it’s impossible, I feel my heart sinking.

So I press on with the fantasy, sending more targeted IMs to the boyfriend, “Non-traditional ticklers?”

“Um….something a rich person would have?  Long chains of gold or something?”

*rolling eyes*

“Babe, he’s an elderly tycoon, not a rapper.  Bling is not an option.”

I was actually quite relieved when he hung up before too long.  And thank GOD, he’s never chanced to call me again.  I STILL have nothing.


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