It’s been a long time since I have been active on this blog. I am going to change that. Yesterday, I found out that I lost a friend. He was a fellow kinkster, a fellow writer, and a big supporter of my writing. He had taken me to my first D/s club years ago. He listened and guided me. He was there and he knew. He told me once that he loved my “cracked” smile. He made me laugh. We had stories. I don’t think I would have finished my book without his encouragement. It was dedicated to him. I can confidently say that my life would be different if I had never met him.
A couple came into the store last night. They were just starting to get into BDSM.
“Are you a submissive?” I asked her.
She said yes.
“You don’t seem like a submissive.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not really. It’s for him.”
They bought a ton of stuff. Even spent extra on cuffs that would not irritate the skin of her wrists.
Unfortunately, she wanted some fetish attire, but we don’t really carry much so I sent her to the dressing room with what little we do have.
Earlier, another couple had come in and spent almost $500 dollars. They shopped for two hours. Their story is pretty sad: they’ve been married for 23 years, and they have 5 daughters. But she has a brain tumor and so they’ve decided to live it up. They’ve recently become poly as well. 41 years-old.
A male customer came in also. One of the good ones. A couple of weeks ago, I had given him advice on having anal sex for the first time. He came in to thank me, and to tell me it went so well that he and his wife did it 3 days in a row. He said she’s just now starting to get “freaky” (whatever that means) because she’s going through menopause.
Later on, my coworker called me over to find out if I knew of any places to have sex. I don’t, but I had some tips so I shared those with the woman who made the inquiry. She looked at me funny and said, “No offense, but you don’t seem like the most credible source. You seem so innocent! What could you possibly know about sex?”
Preconceived notions: everybody’s got them.
Any other Saturday night at the club, watching the dancers could hypnotize me. But not tonight. I was too distracted.
At first I tried not to look at him, taking refuge in my friend instead.
When the night slowed down, he finally sat down next to me and sighed. “You haven’t said hello.”
I leaned in closer. “Hello.”
He slid his hand into my hair, grabbed a fistful near the base of my neck, and guided my head until my upper body was stretched out across his lap.
“Hi, how are you?” He asked my friend, another submissive who nervously responded that he was fine.
I gently bit his arm – I couldn’t help it.
Without a word, he yanked me up and went back to running the room.
I felt like I had taken a hit.
When he returned, he was holding a blindfold. In minutes, my wrists were cuffed and secured to the cross.
The dark eased my mind open.
I plunged fast.
My head emptied of everything except
the music always the music
the waiting waiting for the moments when he would come close
his voice when he did
the pressure of him
the warm promise of a hand
the sting and stroke
He thwacked the cross around me – once, twice, more – bringing me back. The sound made me gasp.
Or yelp. Or whimper. I don’t know which. All three.
He slapped my face, drizzled water into my mouth, and untied the blindfold.
I didn’t open my eyes for awhile. When I finally blinked, all of these people were looking at me.
He loved an audience.
My hair was in my face. I tried to force half a smile. I wanted to please him.
It will hurt when he tires of me.
It’s just play it’s just play it’s just play is so hard to remember.