Authors: Katherine Kingston
“Okay. I think we can work through that.”
But could they work through some of the other stuff? Might
as well get her biggest doubt out in the open. “The thing that’s caused me the
most problems is my sister. She’s my responsibility and I won’t compromise on
that.”
His fingers ran into her hair, stroking it in a way that
massaged her scalp and sent a few little curls of heat through her. “Why should
you?”
“I was engaged once, a few years ago. To a guy I met in
graduate school. I was pretty wild about David. He was wonderful when my
parents were killed in that car crash. Very helpful and supportive. But when it
came to Laurie… He wanted me to put her in a home. He didn’t want to have her
living with us and he didn’t like the amount of my time she took up.”
“Idiot.”
Meg shrugged this time. “I can see his point in a way. She
isn’t always sweetness and light. She has tantrums and bouts of sulking and she
doesn’t like it when I’m away for very long. Living with her can be hard and
she is a constant responsibility that won’t go away. She may someday be able to
live in a group home, but I’m not going to put her some place just to get her
out of my way.”
“No reason why you should.”
“Well, there are, in fact. David made some good arguments
when we discussed it. The fact that I’m pretty much on my own with no other
family for back up or support is scary. What happens to Laurie if something
happens to me? What if I get sick or I’m in an accident? Is it fair to either
of us that she depends so much and so exclusively on me? And it’s true that it
gets to me sometimes. I don’t get much in the way of time off. I don’t get to
travel or date much. I can understand why David didn’t want to go through with
it. You’ve gotten a taste of it, when I couldn’t go out with you or stay for
breakfast.”
“So you come with a ready-made family. All that happens
eventually anyway. Some people even maintain that’s the whole point of
marriage.”
“But most men prefer to create their own.”
“So I’m not most men.”
“No. You’re special.” She made it half teasing but in fact
it was true.
“You’re not totally appalled and disgusted by me and my
perverted tastes?”
“Heck, I share some of those perverted tastes, don’t I?” she
asked. “Fairer to say I’m curious and maybe a bit disturbed. Trying to reserve
judgment, though, and see where this takes us.”
“That’ll do for now.” He rolled a little and kissed her,
long, deep and thoroughly. When they made love again it was slower and gentler
but no less sweet.
The next morning, Laurie still bounced with excitement over
the box of candy Kyle had given her.
“I just had once piece yesterday and I’ll have one today
after dinner, but can I take one to school in my lunch
and
have one
after dinner tomorrow?” she asked, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush
as they cleaned up after breakfast.
“I don’t see why not,” Meg answered.
“He’s a nice man, isn’t he?” Laurie carried plates to the
sink for Meg to wash.
“Yes, he seems to be a nice man.”
“And you like him a lot.”
Meg sighed and shook off the
déjà vu.
“Yes, I like
him.”
“I knew it,” Laurie said as she brought over the pot Meg had
used to cook oatmeal and dropped it in the sudsy water. “Can I tell everyone?”
“Tell them what?”
“That you’re getting married.”
“What? No! You can’t tell them that. I’m not.” Laurie’s
smile turned to a frown. “Look, I told you before. I barely know Kyle yet. We
like each other, but we have a lot of things to learn about each other. It may
not work out and we may decide to just call it off.”
“I hope not. I like Kyle.” She stopped and stared at a spot
on the wall for a minute before she asked, “Do you think I’ll get married
someday, Meggie?”
Meg’s heart clenched and did a somersault. She turned and
hugged Laurie. “I don’t know, honey. None of us knows what will happen in the
future. I hope so. I want you to be happy.”
“Me too. And I want you to be happy.” Laurie squeezed her
back. “But if you don’t marry Kyle, can I?”
Meg gave her sister a mock-stern look. “Oh no you don’t,
sneaky. No stealing my boyfriend.”
Laurie laughed and they dropped the subject.
Two uneventful days followed.
Tuesday afternoon Kyle called to ask how she felt about
going to the club with him after dinner the next day.
“You did reserve Wednesday for me, didn’t you?” he asked.
“I did. And I’m fine with it as long as I don’t have to
participate. But what does one wear?”
“Whatever you want. This is just an informational visit.
You’ll see people there in everything from jeans and t-shirts to some pretty
wild and extravagant stuff.”
Meg agreed, but because she enjoyed hearing his voice so
much and because she was concerned for him, she asked, “How’s it going with the
financing?”
He hesitated a brief moment before he said, “So far no news.
The longer it takes, though, the longer the odds for good news.”
“Ouch.”
“Right. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
He rang off and Meg immediately missed the sound of his
voice in her ear. She anticipated seeing him the next day with a combination of
excitement and dread. Once Laurie had left for school the next morning, Meg got
on the internet and looked up BDSM clubs. What she found both shocked and
intrigued her, but it didn’t offer much reassurance.
Pages of pictures showed people—both men and women—in
leather and metal outfits that exposed parts of their bodies usually covered
and covered parts usually left bare, in positions that looked scary, if not
impossible—bent over, spread-eagled, tied with rope or leather or in chains.
Gags filled and stretched mouths, spreader bars forced legs apart, hoods
covered heads and tiny, frilly, silly bits of lace and silk sometimes decorated
bodies both male and female.
Worse, though, were the pictures of people being spanked or
whipped or having wax dripped on them from candles. Clamps squeezed tender
parts of their bodies and objects penetrated…urgh. She found some of the
spanking shots exciting in a perverse sort of way, but some of the other stuff
went way too far.
Kyle wanted to take her to a place where they did this
kind of thing?
But in fairness, as he’d pointed out, she did get turned-on
by the spanking and had admitted it was something she’d wanted.
But that was way different from this. Wasn’t it?
Anyway, she’d promised to go and she’d keep the promise. And
he’d promised she wouldn’t have to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with. She
trusted he’d keep his side of the bargain.
By the time he arrived to pick her up for dinner, she’d
worked herself into a state of nerves that even a predinner glass of wine
couldn’t settle. After a few minutes, he noticed and guessed the reason.
“Are you that nervous about going to the club?” he asked.
“I did some research online.”
“Oh crap. I hate to think what you came up with.”
“Some of it was, um, startling.”
“Look, there are crazy extremes in the BDSM scene, just as
there are in everything else, but as long as no one’s doing anything they don’t
want to do, we mostly look past it.” He gave her a serious, concerned look. “If
you’re not comfortable going to the club, we won’t go. I’m not going to make
you do something you don’t want to do.”
Meg picked up her wineglass and drained it before she
answered. “Okay, truth? I’m both reluctant and curious. Very curious. But
reluctant. I mean, you know I lean that way and maybe that’s what scares me
more than anything. But leaning doesn’t mean I fall over into it.”
He grinned, showing a glorious dimple in his left cheek. It
melted her.
“I don’t fall over, either,” he said, reaching across the
table take her hand for a moment and squeeze. “I dip my toes in. Sometimes wade
out to hip-deep. My comfort level stops right about there. Fortunately, my friends
play at the same general depth so it’s worked out for me.” He picked up his
wineglass and took a sip before he continued. “Let’s just plan to lean in
tonight and see what we find there. Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“I do know that a couple of old friends will be there. Not
Rick and Lindy. They’re off visiting family this week. Some others I’ve known
for a while. They’re a bit deeper into the scene than we are.”
“‘The scene’?”
“BDSM scene.”
“Ah. And you call it playing when you do this stuff.”
“It is playing. A serious sort of playing, but if it’s not
fun, what’s the point?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You’ll see,” he promised, and steered the conversation in
the direction of a business book he was reading. The distraction worked to keep
her nerves from getting out of hand for the rest of the meal.
Those returned as they drove through the darkness to the
club, although Kyle attempted to keep up the conversation that had veered off
to their favorite movies. It helped some though, because they shared an
interest in action-adventure flicks.
The building they pulled up to was two stories with a
discreet sign on the front showing the name of the place. The parking lot was a
third full even on a Wednesday night, which struck her as interesting, though
in what way, she wasn’t quite sure.
She followed Kyle into the building and waited while he paid
the cover charges. They both showed their drivers licenses and had their hands
stamped.
As they headed for a hall beyond the entryway, a couple came
toward them. Both were men and each wore leather, but one sported a full suit
including leather breeches, boots and tunic while the other had just a leather
collar around his neck, chains hanging from pierced nipples and a strange
variant on a thong that let his balls hang out while wrapping his erect cock in
a tube of lace-up leather casing. Another chain attached to the collar was held
in the other man’s hand.
She presumed the near-naked man was the sub, the other a
Dominant. Although the sub was actually a few inches taller and probably a few
years older than the other man, the Dominant had a hand on his back that looked
both proprietary and concerned.
As the pair walked by, Meg considered the dichotomy they
represented. Kyle misinterpreted her surprise and silence, however.
“It works for them. It wouldn’t work for everyone.”
“It’s not that, although…yeah. He, the sub, I mean, he
wasn’t happy. But the other guy seemed concerned about him. I’m not sure I
understand the dynamic.”
Kyle shrugged. “How many married couples have you met and wondered
what they see in each other? Or couples who seem to do nothing but fight and
yet they’re devoted to each other? No different here. Sometimes it’s damn hard
to figure out what’s going on.” He paused and looked around. “The game room is
over there.” He pointed to the left. “We can take a quick look there if you
want, but that’s the most public display. The lounge is that way.” He pointed
in the opposite direction. “We’ll meet Charles and Cilla there in half an hour
or so.”
“Your friends?”
He nodded. “There’s a public-shared dungeon below as well as
a couple of private ones, plus a group of private rooms on the second floor.
Let’s go take a quick turn through the game room then we’ll go to the lounge.”
Meg braced herself. Just the name “game room” brought back
those pictures she’d seen on the internet.
At first sight, the view in the enormous open area did
little to quell those doubts. The room held a number of tables devoted to card
games and casino games, most populated by people in couples and small groups
dressed in a variety of what she’d learned in her research was called “fetish
wear”. Lots of leather and metal and chains, mixed with a couple of tuxes, a
few long, slinky dresses on the women and assorted costumes. Bustiers with very
short skirts were a popular choice. Numerous versions of the “French maid”
look—white blouse with a short black skirt and tiny white apron, paired with
seamed stockings and impossibly high-heeled pumps—flitted about the room. Some
of them bore trays of drinks and canapés, but not all.
Due to the size of the space she couldn’t make out what was
happening at the far sides, so they walked in and did a slow circuit of the
area. The noise level made talking difficult, forcing them to communicate by
taps on the arm and glances.
They passed two tables of poker games. Aside from the
players’ clothing, it looked like any other poker setup until she got a closer
look at the chips. They came in the standard red, white and blue colors, but
these had pictures on them. It took another moment’s study to realize they
showed whips, paddles, straps and other punishment gear.
Her pulse leapt into high gear just at the sight, but then
she wondered how it would work. She’d have to ask Kyle later.
Over on the far right side of the room, more active sorts of
games took place. A mega version of the game Twister had more than half a dozen
bodies, some naked and others near to it, entwined in a giant human pretzel
that finally collapsed into a heap amidst much laughter and a few groans.
A man who appeared to be the organizer for the game said,
loudly enough for everyone in that particular area to hear, “Masters, claim
your subs and prepare to do your duty.”
A man or woman grabbed each of the participants, helping
them to untangle themselves, then guided each over to the wall, stood them
facing it and fastened their wrists into a set of cuffs until all the players
were lined up there. If they weren’t already naked, the Master lifted the skirt
or yanked down the pants until eight sets of bare buttocks were displayed to
the room, three male and five female. Some showed pink lines and a few bruises.
The man in charge called, “Masters, prepare,” and waited
until each one stood in place behind and to the side of a sub. Each held a
switch, a strap or a riding crop. When the man called, “One,” each pulled back
their instrument and in near unison slapped it down across the bottom of the
sub in front of him or her.