CHAPTER TWO
“How was it?” Janice throws herself down on the sofa beside me.
Part of me hates her for suggesting the place to me to begin with. It's been like a game of follow the leader these past few months. She's been on a big BDSM kick, and has somehow managed to reel me in and drag me along. Her obsession was progressive. It went from reading books to watching porn to finally seeking out Flesh, the quasi-secret establishment that hooks up would-be submissives with experienced Dominants.
When she first told me about it, I thought she was out of her mind. Pay someone for the BDSM experience? You can find Doms on Craigslist for free. Craigslist isn't safe though. And there's no guarantee that the guys you talk to on there are actually Doms. Some of them are just into abuse and use Craigslist as an avenue to draw in inexperienced women looking to try out the lifestyle for the first time.
Flesh is the real deal. Not only is it a community, but they also have a learning center, a club, and then the extra secret service which Janice and I have recently partaken in.
I made her go first, because I was absolutely terrified of the idea. Scared that the guy would want to whip me and do other things I was almost certain I wouldn't enjoy. I was fearful for Janice when she went in for her session, but when she came back raving, curiosity got the better of me, and I knew I had to try it.
My initial consultation put my mind more at ease. I was given a list of actions that could be performed and was told that the Dominant would only do the ones I marked off. The list itself was a mile long and filled with tons of unmentionables, and even a few things I'd never heard of before. In truth, I'm not into the BDSM thing as much as Janice is. Sensuality appeals to me more than being spanked and forced and punished, and so I chose the mildest options on the list. Basically just stuff that would give me a pleasurable sexual experience without making me feel like I was some overbearing asshole's plaything.
When I walked into my scene room at Flesh, I wasn't sure what to expect. I had been nervous and shy and afraid. But the evening turned out to be far more than I could have ever hoped for, and I can now understand how people get hooked on this stuff.
It felt good to have a man tending to all of my needs. But at the same time, it felt wrong. He wasn't my boyfriend. He wasn't even a guy who could potentially be my boyfriend. He was a stranger, paid to please me. Did I just buy a prostitute? Though there was no real sex involved, it sure felt like it, now that everything was said and done.
“It was interesting.” I stare straight forward at the television, even though it's not on. I hadn't gotten the chance to click the remote before Janice had come around the corner to question me. The smile creasing my lips is enough to tell her that I didn't think it was a bad experience though.
“Did you get the same guy? Mister Clean on steroids.” She's practically wiggling, waiting for me to dish out the details.
“No.” I shake my head, biting my bottom lip as I recall...Sir. I never even got his name.
“Well, what was your guy like?” She looks at me expectantly.
The truth is, talking about it makes me feel awkward. Not because the discussion revolves around sex. I share all of my personal relationship details with Janice, what little I've had. But the whole BDSM thing is still strange to me, in all facets. It feels weird even talking about it, like the subject is taboo and meant to be kept secret.
“He was tall dark and handsome.”
“That's a bit generic.” Her shoulders slump in disappointment.
I turn to her, trying to seem more enthusiastic. “He had the most amazing blue eyes. They were like . . .” I look around the room, trying to find something to compare them to. There's nothing nearby with their likeliness though. “They were like looking at a pool. A really clean pool. You know, the color of blue that the water is.”
“Sexy.” She shifts her weight and purses her lips. “And his body?”
“Perfect.” I let out a small sigh, thinking of all that rippling muscle. A body that typically only exists in magazines and movies.
“Was he big like my guy? Like, bodybuilder big?”
“Bigger than a swimmer's build. Not as thin, but not bulky enough to be a bodybuilder.” I screw my mouth, trying to remember. He was broad, covering me completely, making me feel small. I liked it, liked knowing that he could overpower me if he wanted to, liked feeling like I was in the presence of a sexual Adonis.
“And what did you guys do?” She pulls her legs up onto the sofa and crosses them, resting her hands in her lap.
“Everything that was on my list,” discomfort shows through in my voice. This is the stuff I don't really want to talk about.
My experience was so different than Janice's. She went full blast, whips and floggers and paddles. When I originally told her that all I wanted was to be tied up and blindfolded, she laughed at me, telling me I could probably get that much from a vanilla relationship—that I wasn't really interested in the true BDSM experience. Maybe she was right. After she made fun of me, I lied and told her that I would put at least one of the more risque things on my list, but when I went in to fill out my paperwork, I was just too nervous, too unsure, so I went the safe route.
“Let me see those pretty pink welts on your ass.” She leans over and gives my hip a slap.
My cheeks instantly turn red. “No! Some things need to be kept sacred.” I quickly smooth my skirt down around my thighs, hoping she won't try to pry it up and see that there are no marks there.
“Pish posh. We're best friends. Nothing is sacred...except stealing each other's boyfriends, of course.” Her face goes uncharacteristically deadpan.
“Like that's ever going to happen.” I roll my eyes. Both of us are single, and I haven't had a boyfriend since I moved in with her.
“Tell me what you did.” She snaps out of her trance and shakes my arm.
I don't want to lie to her, but I need to. She'll never let me live this down if I tell her the truth, that all he did was blindfold me, bind my wrists with a tie, and tease me with a toy. That would be unacceptable to her, a waste of money. “He tied me up to a Saint Andrews Cross, put nipple clamps on me, and flogged me.”
“How many times?” Her large brown eyes blaze with excitement.
“I don't remember.” I shake my head, quickly trying to fabricate details. “At least two dozen times. He didn't do it hard though, since I'm new to this. Not hard enough to leave marks behind. Any lasting ones, at least. It felt good.
“Oh, and he made me thank him after each strike. He was so dominant and demanding. Rough.” Just imagining it is getting me all riled up again, even though that's not what really happened. Maybe I could have done something a bit kinkier than what I had. Perhaps I can handle more than I think.
“It sounds amazing.” Janice looks as if she's fantasizing right along with me, putting herself in my place.
“It was kind of amazing.” My lips quirk into a smirk as I think about Sir, the way he knew how to get me to obey him without taking things too far. He was a good Dom. A Dom I'd like to see again.
“We should get Doms of our own.” She decides finally. “Who needs all the bullshit of a boyfriend when you can have a man who tends to your every need.”
“Do you really want a man to dictate everything in your life?”
She looks me dead in the eye and says, “Yes.”
“Well, I don't. It was fun for what it was, but I prefer to play by my own rules. Plus, I want romance and . . . affection and cuddling.”
“Aftercare.” She taps my knee.
“I didn't get any of that at Flesh. He just left after we finished our scene.” I give her a sarcastic look.
“Maybe your guy was a shitty Dom then. I got it, but only for like three minutes. Sir held me on his lap and stroked my back until my time was over.” She scrunches up her nose. “They are running on a time limit, you know.”
“I'm aware.” I try my best not to grumble.
For as much as I've been following her around on this little BDSM adventure, this is one place I don't want to go. Experimenting with something new was nice, but I'm perfectly happy with boring vanilla relationships. I want a man to stand by my side, not in front of me, keeping me to his back like a slave.
“I think I'm going to turn in for the night.” I hand Janice the remote and stand up to head to bed.
“He wore you out that much, huh?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I can't help but laugh.
“Yeah. I suppose he did.”
I go to my room, grab my night clothes, and head to the bathroom to take a shower. As the warm water washes down my body, I imagine Sir's hands upon me. He was so hot, so good at touching me. Just fantasizing about it brings my hormones back to life, makes me want to pleasure myself. I've been touched enough for one night though, and I honestly don't want to replace the memory of his hands on me with my own. Not yet. Not tonight.
When I'm done with my shower, I pull my long brown hair into a ponytail and head back to my room. As soon as my ass hits the edge of the bed, my eyes land on a business card on my bedside table. Flesh, it says in large thin letters. Taste the lifestyle is written below it in smaller letters. On the back of the card are the phone numbers for the different departments. I know that without even touching the card, because I called one of those numbers to set up my appointment with Sir.
I pick the card up off the table and stare at it, chewing on my bottom lip as I feel the thickness of it between my fingers. Memories of Sir's rough hands on my breasts, squeezing them and causing that delicious bite of pleasure-pain, make my clit throb. I liked that a lot. Way too much. The way he handled me in a way that no other man has ever dared to.
A strange feeling swirls in the pit of my stomach. That feeling when you know you're about to do something very wrong. Something you shouldn't.
I want to see him again. A deep feminine part of me feels like I need to see him again. Is it because I find him attractive, though, or because of what he's done to me? Something inside of me is different—something changed after that session.
I shake my head, tossing the card back down onto my bedside table as if it just sliced me. We never had sex. I didn't even get the guy's name. Wanting to see him again is illogical—wanting to experience more of his hands on me.
I take a deep breath and lie down, turning off the lights and trying to concentrate on anything else but wanting to see him again. I can't fight my thoughts though, nor my desires. All I see when I close my eyes are those two amazing blue pools that set off the rest of his face, making him look dangerously sexy. I think of his thumb swirling around my cleft, the way he was able to make me come twice without even having sex with me—something no other man has ever been able to do. He was built to pleasure me. Built to drive a forbidden part of me to the surface. And I'm absolutely terrified that I won't be content unless I see him again.