The Reborn

Chapter 8: A night in heaven or hell?

I can't even begin to describe what was going through my head as I sat on my knees between Max's legs. Seeing Alex there threw me into a world of confusion and pain.

How is it that he worked at the club that Max owned? How far did Max go into planning this? My mind was running wild with a million questions. Questions I wouldn't dare to ask Max. Why do you ask? Max is a manipulative, lying sack of ball sweat and nothing that came out of his mouth would be true. At least not the whole truth.

Max selected his truth quite carefully. He made sure you knew just enough, not all. He did this with everyone. He controlled the narrative for everything in his life. His business is the most important.

Somewhere in there, I'd managed to make his important list. Trust me when I tell you, this is not a good thing or place to be. He singled out people for whatever his means. Why he'd chosen after all these years to seek me out was beyond me.

The colors danced around the room and over my glistening body. His fingers were smooth and stroking the shoulder he'd viciously held earlier. I sat there mute and nearly blind to all in front of me.

The pain in my shoulder still throbbed, my body still shuddered. A sudden desire came over me. I missed this. I craved this. I needed this. I finally broke down and admitted to myself that this was part of my life I missed, but not Max. Never him.

Max didn't introduce me to the lifestyle. I learned about it online. My curious nature let me to my first club and others like it. I found myself wanting to get more involved. So I began to attend a club as a regular. I got to know the people and they got to know me.

Flashback

It was a smaller club and it was like a family almost. Then one night, I finally decided it was time to change my status. I stopped wearing the normal armband that signified I wasn't looking. I put on the one that indicated I was and sat down in a seat in the corner almost hoping no one would notice me.

A boy came to me first, he would be my first submissive. I don't even know why, but being a dominant came naturally to me. He was new to the life of BDSM as I, we learned together. For the first two years, it was fine. We were young and having fun at it. There were many times we sat with others to listen to their stories.

His name was Nicholas, but I called him Nicky. He was mine in every way a submissive could be. I loved him, I know he loved me too. It wasn't the kind of love you would experience with a boyfriend. Him being mine was a lot of responsibility.

People always have this misconception about our kind. They think we are all weird, abusive, and sexual deviants. We do deviate from the norms if you compare us to a boyfriend type of relationship, yes. Our relationship is deeper than that of what we call 'vanilla' relationships.

A submissive is putting all their trust in you to keep them safe. Their body may be your playground, but it has its limits. Nicky didn't have many. No blood, scat, or waterworks. He liked spanking, flogging, and edging the best. He was beautiful when it came to looks too.

He had this deep black hair and brown eyes. His skin was silk, his body toned, but not overly muscular in appearance. He was what one would call, pretty. The many times I'd taken him to subspace, I'd watch him in awe. He was a sight to behold. His body would be taut with need, shining under the lights of a playroom I'd kept.

His eyes would fill with desire. Pupils dilated until they were no longer brown, but black in appearance. His body was anticipatory to my every touch. I was his first everything and I loved that feeling. Knowing he'd never even kissed another before me.