Touch (Bdsm)

Into the dark.

“Why did you come here?”

I starred across the room into nothingness. My eyes not once touching the source of the alluring voice, only focused on the flat black walls and the heavy oak door. I couldn’t bring myself to see all the rest quite yet. Not the objects hanging from the walls, not the bed in the center of this foreign place, not the innocent lock on the heavy door, and I certainly couldn’t bring myself to truly see the man standing in front of me.

“You can leave, if you’ve changed your mind.”

I still didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. The night had been too much to take in all at once. The darkness of the club being chased by flashing colored lights, the music rocking bodies together, flesh against flesh, and the gasping of people warped in pleasure. This was a world of touch, a world I had never truly experienced or felt comfortable with, but I suppose that is why I came.

Bringing myself back into focus, and in a moment of bravery, I looked directly at the man.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” my gaze set in determination. “Have you?”

He stayed quiet, but indicated he hadn’t with a shake of his head.

“Good,” I swallowed nervously. Slipping my tongue out to lick the dryness from my lips. His eyes followed my movement.

“Should I undress?” I asked, wanting to move forward into our night.

“No,” he simply responded, a smirk playing on his face, “come over here a moment.”

His calm demeanor, which at first peaked my interest, was now starting to wear at me. My curiosity now turned to confusion, and confusion couldn’t be trusted. It was too unpredictable, and could become dangerous. Maybe I shouldn’t have followed this man into the dark. Away from the rest of the world and into a space where he clearly held all the power.

He walked over to one of the walls, his hands in his pockets, and searched through the array of objects at his disposal. He glanced back at me from over his shoulder, beckoning.

I walked forward slowly, not from nerves, but from discomfort. The dress I was wearing was too small, it clung to my chest and stole my breath. My shoes were even worse, biting at my feet each time they touched the ground. But I walked until I stood beside the man.

He really was handsome. The alcohol was starting to wear off, yet he remained beautiful. Not an illusion, so unlike the other men I attracted.

“Look,” he ordered tilting his face to the wall.

I looked, but didn’t want to see.

The objects hung from small metal hooks protruding from the wall. They had every shape and size. Soft and rough. Long and short. Alluring and repulsive. Safe and dangerous… So many options. Did he want me to choose one? I looked at him unsure.

His eyes were already resting on me, heavy and steady. He radiated a sense of being grounded to the world, maybe that is why I chose him, I needed somebody to bring me down from the clouds. Get me out of my own head. Let me escape myself for just a moment.

“What are you thinking?” he mused.

“There’s a lot.”

He nodded at my response. “Are you talking about the toys, or all of tonight?”

“Both.”

He smiled again, wider this time. His hands still in his pockets.

“Too much?” he questioned gently.

“Yes,” I admitted, squaring my shoulders, “but I knew it would be. That’s why I came, and that’s why I’ll stay.”

“I admire your determination… but do you really understand where you are?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Do you really understand what’s going to happen tonight, or how you’ll feel about it in the morning?”

I laughed, releasing some tension in my lower back. “I practically hand my body over to you on a platter of six inch heels, and a skanky dress, yet it seems like I still have to convince you of my seriousness about the situation. I thought you would be fucking me by now, not giving me a bloody interview.”

“Do you want to be fucked?”

His question took me off guard. Did I really?

“Yes.” I was sober now, this was no longer a whim. It was a decision.

“That’s too bad,” he sighed in disappointment, confusing me further.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t fuck around.”

I still didn’t understand. Why was I here then?

He saw the confusion on my face and took pity on me.

“Any one person can fuck another,” he explained. “Willing or not. What I do is unique. It’s a shared experience that can’t be replicated or forgotten. Its true, sex is a part of it, but I would never demean what I do by calling it a fuck.”

I fell silent under the weight of his words. This was not what I expected my night to be like, and certainly not what I expected him to be like. I though all guys were the same. Give them the signals, let them lead you into the dark, and pleasure is promised.  

“Should I go?”

He didn’t speak, but I took his silence as an answer. I turned to leave.

“Why did you really come here?” his voice froze me, “if you just wanted a fuck you could have gone to any bar, but you didn’t. You came to this club. Why?”

I let out a weighted sigh. “I don’t know… I just wanted to try something different. Everything I have been doing isn’t working for me anymore, and I just wanted to see if I could. If I could push myself out of the box I built, see if I liked being out of the box,” I laughed lightly with a smile. “Who knows? One night with you and I may go running back into that box… but I still have to try. Even if I go back.”  

I turned to face him, our eyes colliding. His were thoughtful, and mine I knew were vulnerable and open to his inspection. I wanted him to see it. The need.

“Alright then,” he spoke. “Let’s begin.”