edgeplay

I played with someone new last Saturday at the private club – a Hot Shot Dom. He was well-known so I thought I was safe, but I could not have been more wrong.

He trailed knives along my skin, lit me on fire, wet and smacked my thighs with metal. He also flogged me with something that left instant welts. I shrieked.

We were not in a private room – several people watched. And it was my first time being completely naked during play.

I passed out while he was choking me and I didn’t think he even noticed. If he had not been pressed against me, I would have crumpled. My arm fell from the chain I had been holding.

I had never passed out before – I didn’t know what was happening to me at first.

The worst part was that he left me alone during subspace – just dropped me and walked away. He was angry that I did not inform him before the session that sex was not a foregone conclusion.

He asked why I didn’t bring up the no-sex factor in the beginning. I told him that I honestly didn’t think sex would come up right away.

Naive.

no sudden movements

At the club, my body formed an X, black rope woven elegantly around my neck, between my legs, accentuating each breast.

Something I had never done before: knifeplay.

But first, he tormented my skin with this excruciating leather slapper that almost took me out of the flow.

The knifeplay was equally excruciating, but in a more delicious manner. Unnerving and exquisite. The blade on my skin was even more physically binding than the ropes because I would not risk movement.

As pleasurable as it was, I felt for the first time – I knew it would happen eventually – I had outgrown the club. Not him. But the atmosphere. It no longer held the same allure.

I wanted more.

I didn’t know if he knew, but afterward, he took me to a new club. Private, members-only.

Rooms upon rooms, countless contraptions – leather, metal, wood – everywhere. Artwork and decor, stunning. It was the kind of place read about in books. There was even a library stocked with erotic literature.

The people were serious players, but still warm and welcoming. Refreshments, but no alcohol. Conversation and smoking outside near a fire.

We browsed the main room with its multiple stations until drifting down a hallway – some doors open, some not, some left ajar for the curious. Different songs flowing from each. And of course: screams, wails, gasps, sobs, panting, and more.

Since it was a private club, there was much more skin. And more intimacy.

the talk

While driving back from a knifeplay workshop, he told me that more and more he realizes that keeping a committed sub is not for him.

Maybe his admission would have hurt more if I hadn’t been expecting it.

I thanked him for trying this experience with me and I also asked what we were now, if anything.

He thought for a moment and then said he enjoys being with me, enjoys our play.

“Friends.” With a little extra.

And the club?

He said he would have to get over some things as he knew he couldn’t hold me back from pursuing more D/s experiences.

I felt a little sad. A little bad about myself. If only I had been more…something.

But I also felt relief. It wasn’t easy being in ready-mode at all times, waiting for him to say the word.

I teased that I no longer had to do what he says.

Work and school were a convenient distraction. Along with my flirty co-worker. And my last boyfriend has also been looking for a way back in. Maybe.