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On the Plane to a BDSM Vacation
She dreamed of it, cancelled once, then booked again. A first-person account of the journey to a BDSM bondage vacation on Gran Canaria – anticipation, nerves, and no turning back.
in Experiences
Part 2 - The BDSM Plane
This is the continuation of my post "Bound and Used as a Slave in the Desert."
Taking the BDSM Plane to a Bondage Vacation
The conversation with him lasted two hours. For me, those were two hours in which I completely lost myself. I was my deepest self – not the person I usually am. Afterwards I simply sat there, letting it sink in. The phone was still warm in my hand. I hadn't touched my tea. It had gone cold and left a ring in the cup. But that didn't matter to me. I knew: I want to go there. I want to experience this. I have a good feeling about it.
I opened my laptop and searched for flights to Gran Canaria. From Düsseldorf there were several options. A cheap return flight was available the following Thursday for five days, for just 89 euros. I added it to my basket and stared again at a button: "Book now." My finger rested on the mouse.
I closed the browser.
The days that followed passed as usual. I got up at 6:45, drank my coffee, and drove to work. My colleague told me about her weekend. I nodded and thought about ropes.
On Wednesday I opened the flight page again. The Thursday flight was sold out. But there was one on Friday, for 112 euros. I wanted it. I booked. This time for real. The confirmation email arrived in my inbox. Did I feel sick? Not at all. I went to bed and slept better than I had in months.
I dreamed of being on the plane already, bound in my seat as a BDSM slave, being brought to my new life. This absurd dream had something wonderfully liberating about it: the sheer impossibility of the situation on the plane let me embroider it freely. It aroused me intensely.
On Thursday my mother called. She asked whether I could come over the weekend – it was my father's birthday. I had completely forgotten. I had been so deep in my thoughts about the SubWelt that it had slipped my mind entirely. This threw a wrench in my plans. "Let me check my calendar," I told her. Then I sat at my kitchen table for an hour and thought. Is this a sign? Of course it wasn't a sign. It was just bad timing. I could have told my mother I had plans that couldn't be moved – and then she would have asked what those plans were.
I cancelled the flight.
For the first time in this whole affair, I felt genuinely foolish. The 40-euro cancellation fee annoyed me on top of everything. I felt ridiculous – that I would have disappointed my family for the sake of my sexual fantasies. Is it really that important?
Nearly two weeks passed. I found myself back inside my dreams. At times they grew so vivid that I stopped looking at myself properly in the mirror each morning. Not because I no longer liked what I saw, but because I was afraid something might show. That this restlessness, this sense of unfulfillment, had settled somewhere behind my eyes. That someone might notice what kind of thoughts were living inside me.
On a rainy Tuesday evening – I was in a bad mood – I opened the SubWelt website again. I had kept returning to it. I read through everything once more, slowly, word by word. Not like someone deciding whether they want to go. But like someone who already knows they do, and simply can't understand why they're still sitting here.
I opened a new window. Searched for flights: Thursday in ten days. 97 euros. 15 days. I entered my credit card number and clicked "Book" before I had time to think twice. The confirmation email landed in my inbox. I left it pinned at the top. It stayed there, visible. Nobody else would see it – but I wanted it to be there.
I notified the SubWelt of my booking and added a rental car. Everything arranged, everything booked. Time to go.
Over the next ten days something strange happened: the fear didn't come back. Or it came, but it was smaller than the quiet, warm certainty that had settled somewhere in my chest and stayed there. I bought new underwear, new stockings. Not because I needed them – I had plenty. But because it felt like a decision made with my body, not just in my head. The new stockings wove their way straight into my airplane fantasy. A flight attendant served me tea on the plane while I wore them.
The Booked Slave Vacation
The SubWelt replied to my booking: "I'm looking forward to you." I read that perhaps twenty times. What did he mean by it exactly? Simply warm and friendly – or was he looking forward to me giving myself to him completely? To becoming his possession, belonging to him? The thought sent my imagination soaring. On the Wednesday before the flight I sent him a short message:
I'm coming Thursday. Arriving LPA 14:35. I'm a little nervous.
He replied within minutes.
Good. I'm already laying out the ropes and whips.
Two sentences that would accompany me all the way to him. He already had me completely in his grip.
On Thursday morning I was up at 4:30, even though my taxi wasn't coming until 6:00. I sat in my kitchen, drank coffee, and looked out the window into the darkness. I was no longer turning it over in my mind, asking myself whether I should do this. I simply sat there and waited for it to be time.
What will happen?
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