I have a lot of love to give because I am a human being with human emotions. But for those same reasons, I also have other emotions. Trying to reconcile being polyamorous and feelings of jealousy.
In the Western world, it is impressed upon us that monogamy is sacred. We are told that we are going to meet that special someone, we’re going to date, we will fall in love, we will get married, we will have children, yadda yadda yadda, and then we will live out the rest of our days with that one single person, our soul mate.
While it is true that society is starting to shift their conventional ways of thinking, the idea of monogamy as the ideal situation is still held as the standard. It is generally considered immoral or wrong if one cheats on on their partner. Well, I actually don’t disagree with that sentiment. It is wrong to betray somebody who has trusted you with their heart. An infidelity can, and most likely will be, devastating and heartbreaking to your partner. No, cheating on your partner is absolutely not okay.
But there are usually reasons, whether perceived or legitimate, that a person may stray in their relationship. This post isn’t about why people have extra-relational affairs though. This post isn’t even going to take a look at monogamy and I am definitely not going to try to decipher whether human beings were designed to be with just one partner. Instead, I want to delve into and discuss the world of polyamory and jealousy.
For most of my adult life, I was a serial monogamist. Well, that’s a half-truth. I did have the propensity to cheat on my partners, perhaps a precursor to my propensity to be poly. It wasn’t until my last relationship (he also happened to be fiancé #3), that ended almost 5 years ago that I started to look at things with a different lens. Again, that’s a half-truth. Near the end of our relationship, I started working at LGBTQ+ establishment and with that opportunity, I was introduced to a whole new world. Up until that point, I had always identified as a straight cis woman. Of course, I experimented with girls throughout the years, but if you would’ve asked me I would have said I identified as heterosexual. From the moment I started working at this bar, the people around me would tell me that I was gay. I would laugh it off and take no offence. But the more people said they thought I was a lesbian, the more it got me thinking.
And then it happened: I fell head over heels for a woman. I was sexually, emotionally, and personally attracted to her. One night, I had a slight indiscretion with her. Nothing major, just a little make-out session, but an indiscretion none the less. Unfortunately, the community is a small one and because of that, the word of my make-out session got around quite quickly and my fiancé found out.
Of course he was devastated. He had put me on such a high pedestal for so long and adored me so much and I had, in one fleeting instant, turned his world upside down. Of course, I was legitimately remorseful and apologetic. I really was sincerely and genuinely sorry for the hurt I caused him. But I couldn’t deny the feelings I had for this woman either.
He didn’t even so much as look at me for days. I deserved that. But while he was taking his time out to think, so was I. When we did come together to talk it out, I don’t think he was expecting what I was about to say: “Why can’t we be in a relationship and see other people?” I confessed to him that I had real feelings for this woman. Once he realized this wasn’t just a sex thing but it was an emotional thing as well, it devastated him further. Again he didn’t talk to me for days. And again, I feel like I deserved it. But the fact remained that I wanted to stay in my relationship with him and explore with this woman.
After those few days of non-communication, he came to me and said he was willing to give it a go. I then misguidingly quoted the lyrics from Nicki Minaj’s song “But fuck who you want and fuck who you like ...” from Starships. I was given a nasty look, that again I most definitely deserved. Yes, my joke was in very bad taste. But I was happy that he was mature enough to think about what I had said and I was very pleased that he decided that we could give it a try.
Kate story short, the woman that I wanted to be involved with decided she didn’t want to be involved with a “bi-curious” girl and my fiancé had the time of his life going from one sexual partner to the next.
Did I like it when the shoe was on the other foot? In all honesty, the whole having sexual interactions with other partners didn’t bother me in the least. He even experimented with his own sexuality by experimenting with other men. But when he started seeing a girl on a more emotional level, I most definitely felt a pinch. I am human, and not a sociopath. I have feelings and emotions. Did I get jealous? I absolutely did. When he would spend time with her, doing things that couples do and especially when he would spend time with her when I was free myself. Does that make me a hypocrite? Oh, most definitely. But I dealt with it in a mature manner. After all, I was the one who wanted this.
Just because you choose to be or are inclined to be poly doesn’t mean you are not going to have feelings of jealousy, especially if you are involved with someone on more than just a sexual level. If you don’t feel a tinge of jealousy, you might want to check your feelings for that person. It’s all in how you manage and cope with those feelings. It’s okay to have those feelings. Let yourself feel them. And then let them go. If you’re an adult, then you can manage your feelings in an adult way. You will figure out the best way for you to deal with it, whether that is it to come to terms with it or to just not think about it. But if you find yourself not coping well at all or you are acting in a passive-aggressive manner, you might want to rethink your stance on being polyamorous. If it’s a matter of wanting your cake and eating it too (of course, what’s the point of cake if you can’t eat it?) but your partner can only look at the cake, stop being a selfish asshole.
As for me and my fiancé, we broke up shortly thereafter. Not because of the poly thing but because of a plethora of aggravating factors. When we broke up, I decided I wanted to stay single for a whole entire year, no more jumping straight into another relationship. Well, that year has turned into almost 5. I’ve casually dated people but nothing serious or committed, so the matter of being poly has never been an issue. But, I have recently met someone who is exponentially more polyamorous than averand our relationship is going extremely well. It has brought my attention back to rethinking my stance on if I will be able to be in a serious relationship with someone and be okay with them having relationships with others. I guess time will tell.
“Fuck!” Lyra yelled as she furiously back spaced the entire opening sentence of her Art History thesis. Once she realized everyone at the café was looking at her, she visibly blushed and lowered her head a little. She hated people watching her, but this was so infuriating. Lyra had been working on this project all year, she had all her research, references, source material and notes organized. Now that it came time to put it all together, she couldn’t even get past how to phrase the opening line of her Thesis Statement. She even noticed her backspace button was becoming faded; she bit her lip and groaned quietly. At twenty-five and already having completed her BA, she was no stranger to writing papers, in fact she excelled at it. She just couldn’t understand why it was happening now.
She sipped her hazelnut latte and sighed. Maybe it was the smell of all the pumpkin spice lattes all over the place that was distracting her. She hated pumpkin spice. It’s not the fucking pumpkin spice dumbass, she scolded herself internally. She began to let her mind wander.
She enjoyed her undergrad years. She thrived as a college student and still managed to have fun. Sure there was cram nights, nerves, and anxiety, but she always would unwind somehow. Be it with a party, some drinking, or some sexy fun with various friends with benefits. Her roommate was a prude and would always try to make Lyra feel bad about her promiscuity, but Lyra didn’t care. She planned on enjoying life and not live by anyone else’s standards.
Now, in graduate school, adulting seemed like serious business. She wasn’t living in a dorm, she had an apartment. She also worked at the same time she was attending grad school. She had zero time to unwind. Parties? Forget it. Drinking? Maybe a glass of wine here and there, but she had to get up every morning for some kind of responsibility. Sex? She was beginning to think she forgot what sex was.
She put her head in her hands and stared at the blank screen. Then she heard a voice.
“Lyra? Is that you?”
Lyra spun her head around. Just past the entrance to the café stood her Freshman Art History Professor, Professor Malcolm. She froze for a moment then stuttered, “Um, no, I mean yes. Professor Malcolm?”
Professor Malcolm chuckled and came to her table. “I certainly hope so. Do you mind if I sit?”
Lyra froze again for a moment then hurriedly cleared off the other chair of her bookbag and purse. “Yes, yes of course! It’s been so long!” Lyra watched him smile and sit on the chair. It was really him, Professor Malcolm.
Professor Octavian Malcolm, in Lyra’s mind, was the one teacher that motivated her more than anyone to not only succeed, but also take her Art History education all the way. He inspired her in so many ways, intellectually, motivationally, it didn’t hurt she always though he was hot as hell and also almost 20 years older than her. She can remember many a fond night masturbating to his vision or fantasizing whoever she was fucking at the time was him. She would imagine his thick, but not overly muscled, physique on top of her, holding her down, and unable to resist him as he fucked her senseless. She squirmed in her seat a little at the reimagined thought.
Professor Malcolm sat down and put his keys on the table. Lyra noticed the bright gold skeleton key that she remembered him always having on his keychain. The keychain was also unique. It had a leather tasseled portion and two fuzzy balls. It stood out so much she could never forget it.
“So how have you been, what are you up to?” He said in his sing song voice Lyra always adored.
Lyra snapped out of her reminiscing and realized her cheeks were warm. “I’ve uh, it’s been great! I’m in grad school now and currently working on my thesis in Art History. Well trying to at least.” She blushed at her own self-doubt. She though she left that behind after Freshman year.
Professor Malcolm leaned his elbows on the table top and caught the attention of a waitress. “Pumpkin spice skim latte please. Thanks.” He turned to Lyra again. “Trying to? Oh come now Lyra, I find that hard to believe, but I am thrilled you decided to continue your studies in Art History!”
Lyra stared at him for a second. He ordered pumpkin spice. He’s lucky I like him. She thought. She quickly shook herself out of the thought and smiled. “After your class, I fell in love with Art more than I ever had before. I truly believe it is my calling. If I can get passed this damn thesis. It’s different now. I don’t know, with you, I always seemed to be focused and intent on impressing you. Lyra immediately froze again realizing how she worded that. Impress him? You fucking idiot why did you say that?”
Professor Malcolm chuckled as the waitress brought him his coffee. “Impress me? That was hardly necessary, your work spoke for itself regardless of who was teaching you. I am of the belief you could easily handle this thesis in the same manner you have handled everything thrown at you during your academic career, flawlessly. Everything about has always been that way.”
Lyra was sure she was visibly blushing now. He just said everything about me is flawless. Oh my god. She thought to herself. She tried to hide her blush with her coffee cup while taking a sip. “Thank you Professor, that means a lot to me.” She said after putting the cup down. What he didn’t know is her panties were getting uncomfortably wet. She realized it had been way too long she thought about sex and his very presence was making her body react on its own. His praise made it even more exasperated.
He smiled in his delightfully crooked fashion, showing his dimples more. “Do you come here often? This is like my regular spot. I’ve never seen you here before.”
“It’s my first time here. My new apartment is a few blocks away, so after my move I needed a new spot. Found this one and here I am.” Lyra squirmed in her chair, the wetness in her pants becoming far too noticeable for her. This was insane, sure she’s gotten worked up before, but it’s never happened from just a general conversation, and she had many with Professor Malcolm during her years at undergrad.
“Ah, makes sense. Guess we’re neighbors now! This place is a home away from home for me. SO many good memories at this café.” He said wistfully.
Lyra cocked her head at his statement. It’s just a coffee shop, what does he mean? She wanted to ask him, but instead turned the conversation back to her thesis.
“Maybe you could help me with this thesis. My thesis question is ‘Why is nude depictions in canvas and sculpture revered, but villainized in motion pictures?’”
“That’s a great question, and one that should be posed and on display. I prefer just about everything I handle on display for all to see. I feel it provokes an honestly in the work, and the presenter.” He smiled broadly, his teeth showing and dimples oh so present.
Lyra moaned internally. She doesn’t get signals wrong usually, and this discussion with Professor Malcolm felt much more intimate and innuendo filled than any previous discussions, and she was not upset about that. She decided it was time to test the waters and do a little flirting back. “So you like being in control of everything you handle?” Lyra bit her lip a little and gave her best ‘fuck me eyes’ she could muster. “I think that is a good way for an artist to wow his audience. What would you suggest?”
Professor Malcolm sat back and folded his arms. Lyra was sure she could make out a bulge in his pants starting to form. “Well, remember the project you did on MichelLyrao in my class?”
Lyra smiled and played with her hair. “You mean the oral presentation?” Lyra purposefully emphasized the word oral. She didn’t know if she sounded corny or like an idiot, but she was all in at this point.
“Yes, that exact one.” He smirked. “You came to me and were worried if it would be good enough. I told you once you present it, and are laid bare to the audience, you will find your power. Being vulnerable and exposed to an audience is incredibly motivating and can push you to limits you thought you could never surpass. I believe an experience like that can inspire you to complete this thesis.” Professor Malcolm put one hand on the table and rubbed the golden skeleton key on his keychain. “It is the key to everything.”
Lyra couldn’t take it anymore. Her panties were thoroughly soaked. She had been rubbing her thighs together the entire time making things worse. She had to know where this would go and she had to know now. She whispered in her most sultry voice. “And it seems you hold that key. I’m interested in finding out what it offers.”
Professor Malcolm’s eye shone in delight. He leaned forward and put his hand on top of hers. “What it offers is not for everyone, and it requires clear consent as it progresses. Is this something you want me to show you and are you prepared for something unconventional?”
Lyra’s thighs could not stop rubbing. She bit her lip and found it hard to speak, but she knew what her answer was, and she said it soft and huskily. “Yes.”
Professor Malcolm stood, and helped Lyra stand by gently pulling on her hand. He held it and walked her to the back of the café. There was a hallway that held two doors for the bathrooms, and a third, nondescript door with an old looking keyhole. He placed the skeleton key into the keyhole and turned it with an audible and chime like click. Lyra followed his lead into the dark room.
After a moment in darkness, she heard another click of the Professor flicking a light swtich. A soft glow of light filled the room, but only slightly. She saw a few rows of seats, almost like a tiny movie theater. Except where the screen would be, were just closed, red velvet curtains. The Professor continued leading Lyra down the row of seats to the front of the room where another door stood next to the curtains. He unlocked that door with the same key and led her in.
This room was also dark, but soon the Professor flipped another switch and it lit up with a warm red glow. When her eyes adjusted, she could make out the room. Along the far side wall was a row of lockers. Along the back wall was a row of big hooks on the wall. Along the wall under the were various pieces of furniture, but not the typical kind. She saw a padded horse of some kind, a kneeling bench similar to prayer benches, a giant X made of wood with rings on it and some ordinary chairs. The wall on the same side of the door was a giant window, which she now saw the curtains on the other room were covering.
The Professor let go of her hand and pulled a chair to the center of the room and motioned for Lyra to sit. She sat down as he stood in front of her. She noticed she wasn’t wrong about the bulge in his pants; it was very apparent now. She bit her lip hard and inhaled sharply. She had no idea what to expect or what would happen next. Although not versed in kink, she was sure those pieces of furniture were implements used in the kinky and underground world of BDSM. She was scared and excited at the same time. She noticed the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in fear, but her panties were utterly destroyed with her wetness and was going through her jeans as well.
The Professor lifted Lyra’s chin so she was looking up at him, then he placed his hands on his hips. “I want to begin with extremely important information. You are free to leave this room at any time should you become uncomfortable or decide you do not want to continue for any reason. Ultimately you are in control of what happens or doesn’t happen. Do you understand that? And please respond with your voice, not a nod or shake of your head.”
Lyra’s excitement and anxiousness grew. “Yes.” She replied confidently.
“Good. Remember that. Second, there are words called safe words, that are specifically used for this kind of activity. The type of words can vary person to person, but I have a specific set that I use consistently. They are very simple. If at any point you want anything I am doing or having you do to immediately stop, say the word RED. Do not fear using this. You will not upset me, irritate me, or bother me in anyway. This is your power word. It controls me completely. If at any point you want to pause, to ask a question or voice a concern, say the word YELLOW. I will stop what is happening at the point and listen to what you need to say and you can determine if you wish to continue or not. Is this understood? Repeat the words back to me and their usage please.”
This is really happening. I can’t believe this. Lyra thought. The through did not give her pause. She was not yet sure if she was going to enjoy or handle whatever was going to happen, but she was sure she wanted to try it with this man. “Yes, I understand. Red means complete stop, yellow means pause. I control these words and their usage.” She hoped he didn’t mistake the shake in her voice for fear rather than the real reason, excited anticipation.
“Very good. Lastly, do you at this time give consent for me to have access to your vagina and/or mouth for the purposes of sexual acts? Be aware also, should I use my penis, I will be wearing a condom and during these acts I will use terms like slut and whore. The theme here revolves around embarrassment.”
Lyra gulped and she could feel her hands shaking. She gripped then tightly. “Yes!” She said, louder than she anticipated. She realized she was rubbing her thighs together again, and she noticed he saw it and his smile.
“Then it is time we begin.” He had her stand up and moved the chair back to the wall. “Take off your clothes. Put them in the bin by the door, and come back to this spot after.”
She bit her lips and did as she was told. In the meantime, the Professor walked over to the locker and took out a hard suitcase from it and rolled it to the center of the room and watched her as she finished disrobing and deposited the clothes in the bin. When she came back to the original spot, she could feel the goosebumps all over her skin. She also realized this was the first time the lead up to taking her clothes off took this long, but conversely it is the fastest she’s ever taken them off for a man.
He walked around her, inspecting her nakedness. She could feel her juices making her inner thighs wet again. When he was behind her, she could feel his breath on her neck and she closed her eyes.
“I’m going to touch you now.” He said firmly. She sighed and nodded her head. She felt his hands first rub her exposed ass, then grab each cheek roughly. She let out a yip followed by a moan. His hands kneaded her ass coarsely, then gave it a smack. She jumped slightly and bit her lip. He came back around and knelt down by his suitcase.
He opened it up and pulled out some rope and showed it to her. “I am going to tie you to that cross back there. It is called a St. Andrews Cross. Your hands and ankles will be tied to each corner.” Not hearing a safe word, he went and dragged the cross behind Lyra. He proceeded to grab each appendage roughly and tied them to the cross with his rope. By the time he was done, Lyra was splayed out, bound to the cross unable to move. Her face was beat red at this point and her pussy was on fire.
He went back to his suitcase and pulled something else. He showed it to her. “Do you know what this is?”
She looked at it and squinted. “I think it’s a vibrator?”
He nodded. “Correct. It is called a Hitachi Magic Wand. Very intense and powerful. You are not to fight it. Let it do what it is meant to do and do not hold back your orgasm. Understood?”
Lyra bit her lip again. “Yes.” She quavered and whispered out.
“From now on, in this room, you will call me Sir. Yes, Sir.” He said flatly and firmly.
“Yes, Sir.” Lyra replied.
The Professor took out some more rope and put the Hitachi against her inner thigh, pushing the silicone head of it into her labia. She moaned audibly and it wasn’t even on yet. She could feel him tying the wand tightly to her thigh to where she could not pull away from it touching her wet cunt. She noticed him plug it into a small box with a dial, and plug that box into a wall socket. He then walked to the corner of the room and came with something else. An old, metal bucket. He placed this under her and vibrator. This confused her. She didn’t know what it was there for.
He then went to the far wall and pushed a button. She could see a faint yellow light from the other side of the curtain in the adjoining room. It was all coming together for her now. His innuendo about an audience and his handling of his work. She felt a wave of anxiety along with excitement. He stood before her once again and crossed his arms. “There is one last thing. Behind this curtain are people. People that are going to watch you cum, squirm, and do whatever I please with. They are your audience. They are what will make you shine. Are there any objections?”
Lyra head raced. Oh my god, I was right. There are going to be people watching! Seeing me naked, sprawled out for everyone to see. My quivering pussy, my facial expressions, everything. Her eyes darted back and forth a moment. All the while the Professor stood there patient and stoic as she processed this information. She felt a wave of panic. She wasn’t sure. “Will anyone enter this room?” She asked
“No one is allowed in here except you and me. I can assure you of that. By the time we leave, they will be all gone from the building entirely. You will not see any of them in the cafe, nor will they see you. The agreement with this facility and membership rules are, voyeurs are not allowed to frequent the establishment for any other reason than this and enter from a separate door.” He ended his statement and waited for her.
Lyra’s eyes darted around some more. “Will there be any cameras, phones, anything like that?” She said nervously.
He shook his head. “Any kind of photography or video is strictly prohibited. Voyeurs must leave their phones and empty their pockets before entering.”
Lyra breathed a sigh. All her important anxieties were covered, only one she had to getover was her dislike of being watched, especially this exposed, but that was something she wanted to overcome. Plus, the idea of her having no control of her made her pussy quiver. She made up her mind. “I am ready.”
The Professor nodded and pulled a chair in front of her. He then proceeded to his another button on the wall and the yellow light started flashing outside the curtain. He paused and looked at his watch for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he looked up at her, and hit a third button. The curtains opened.
Lyra’s eye went wide. On the other side of the glass had to be about 25-30 people all seated looking at her. She began to squirm involuntarily, trying desperately to bring her legs closer together to hide her exposed and slick cunt. In her mind she pictured her labia were spread open and smiling at everyone like a big pink smiley face emoji. She began to breath heavily and her eyes went to the Professor. He walked over to her seeing her reaction and rubbed her cheek with his hand.
“Words?” He said softly.
Lyra’s breathing began to calm at his touch and she closed her eyes. The simultaneous emotions of fear and anxiety coupled with her heightened horniness and wanting of him battled in her mind, but she knew what she wanted. She shook her head. “No Sir, I am yours.”
He smiled and sat in the chair before her. Lifting up the box with the dial, he clicked a switch and turned the dial slightly. The vibrations hit her like a jolt and she tossed her head back and screamed. Lyra and never felt anything like this before in her life. She had owned and used many vibrators, but this, this was the mother of them all. It only took 10 seconds and her legs were shaking, only being held upright by the rope. Then she heard his voice.
“Lyra, my brilliant slut. Who is credited as the designer of the many statues which decorated the Parthenon?” He said in a monotone voice. From his suitcase he picked up some reading glasses and a clipboard and pen. He crossed his legs and continued looking at her.
Lyra’s head tilted up and looked at him. All the while the Hitachi was buzzing slowly, yet powerfully against her clit. What? How? I know this. Her mind raced, scrambling for the answer that would be easy at any other time, but the damn vibrator was still working it’s magic. She shouted out the first name that came to mind mingled with her moans. “Hes…Hesiod…huuuuh.”
The Professor shook his head in disappointment. “Incorrect Lyra. I’m disappointed.” He grabbed the dial and turned it all the way up. The vibrations coursed through Lyra’s clit like a lightning bolt. If there was such a thing as an orgasmic electric chair, this was it. He legs began shaking violently, straining against the rope, her hips desperately trying to get away from the intense sensation but also grinding against it. It only took about 15 seconds for her orgasm to begin to swell, feeling it at first deep in her belly. Then she felt something else. Oh god no, please, no. She knew this feeling, it only happened once and she was mortified, she was going to squirt. Her eyes, rolled back into their sockets and she moaned loudly. At the last moment she realized what the bucket was. Her ejaculate came flowing out of her violently and splashed loudly into the old metal bucket. Very loudly. She was crying in embarrassment, but it was the best damn orgasm she had ever had up to this point in her life. The Professor thankfully lowered the dial down to a bare minimum and she breathed ragged breaths.
The Professor wrote on the clipboard and spoke. “Try again Lyra.” He dialed it up a notch starting the cycle again.
Lyra began moaning again, but this time the answer was in her mind. She knew. “Phidiassssssss. Mmmmm, it’s Phidias, Sir.”
The Professor smile. “Correct! Let’s try another shall we?” He turned up the dial a little more and Lyra moaned loudly. “What artist was struck in the face with a mallet by an envious rival?”
Lyra gyrated with the vibrator, enjoying its comfortable speed and smiled. She knew this one because they were just talking about the artist in the café. “Mmm, Sir. That was Michelangelo.”
“That’s my good slut. Let’s make it a little harder shall we? What art movement was Yoko Ono associated with in the 60’s?” He said and watched her.
Lyra’s eyes opened. She was drawing a blank again. She looked past the Professor to try and concentrate, but her orgasm was building again. Upon looking up, she also realized people in the audience were not just watching anymore. She saw quite a few cocks being vigorously jerked. A couple a girls were kissing and fondling each other, and one man was giving another a blowjob. Her cunt twitched and she couldn’t think. They were masturbating to her body. Her anxiety came back again and the vibrator still hummed. She blurted out, “Futurism!”
The Professor shook his head again. She knew what was coming. He cranked the dial all the way up and her body involuntarily convulsed again with the full power of this wonderful and evil vibrator. It welled up inside her again, the fountainous expulsion of ejaculate splashed in the bucket again and she cried and moaned at the same time. He lowered the dial all the way down again. As humiliating and emotional as her squirting was, she found clarity after it. At that very moment she could see the word Fluxus in her mind. She weakly spoke it, her head rolled to the side, her hair wet with perspiration, “Fluxus, Sir. It is Fluxus.”
He smiled and wrote on his clipboard. After a moment he stood and took a bottle of water out of the locker and brought it to her lips. “Drink, we don’t want you to dehydrate.” Lyra’s eagerly gulped down the water and he petted her matted and wet hair. “Are you doing ok?” He asked. Lyra nodded and smiled.
The Professor moved away and grabbed something else from the back shadowy wall. We he came back she saw it was a step ladder about 3-4 feet high. She watched him as he started to remove his pants, then his underwear. She had been waiting for this since Freshman year. As he pulled them off, his cock flopped out hard and erect. He stroked it a few times and she bit her lip harder nearly making it bleed. He climbed up on the ladder until his cock was eye level to her. Without realizing it, she lunged her head forward to try and wrap her lips around it. He pulled back his hips and scolded her. She whined and he slap her mouth and face with it. She cummed again with the constant buzzing of the Hitachi, not the explosive forced orgasms of earlier, but a comforting, smooth orgasm she felt all over.
He smiled down at her and grabbed her hair. In one swift motion he parted her lips with his cock and shoved it deep into her throat making her gag. Holding there for a few seconds, her eyes began to water and he pulled back. She breathed heavily through her nose and began rocking her head back and forth to bring his hard dick back into her mouth. She slurped on it like it was her salvation, her sustenance. She opened her eyes and noticed the audience again. People were watching intently, still masturbating and full on fucking each other. Her anxiety rose again and she shut her eye briefly, but then she looked up at him, his face contorted in pleasure and her confidence rose. She eagerly swallowed his cock and made gagging sounds. Drool was running down her chin, but she didn’t care. She opened her mouth wider and tilted her head back so he could face fuck her as he pleased.
She hadn’t realized he had brought the control box with him, He began to steadily increase the vibration again. Lyra screamed between gags as her climax built up again. He pulled out of her mouth and began to jerk his hard dick furiously. Just as she felt her orgasm beginning to explode, he unloaded stream after stream of hot cum on her face and breasts. She was sure her screams from the orgasm could be heard out in the café, but she didn’t care anymore. She was in heaven.
ONE WEEK LATER
Lyra looked at her laptop screen and smiled. It was done. She completed the first draft of her thesis. All she had to do now was some editing and proof reading and a peer review or two. She couldn’t help herself and began to do a little chair dance and fist pumping in her computer chair. She took a sip of her wine and leaned back, satisfied.
Her cell phone buzzed and she picked it up and read the text that came through.
Café. One hour. Don’t be late or else.
Lyra bit her lip and squealed. She had finished her thesis, but she had many, many more lessons to complete.
And then learn some more. You can never “know” too much when it comes to your kinky play.
Last week and this week’s Consensually Speaking podcast was a two-parter featuring the wonderful and bad-ass Bad Kitty Bondage. I am not going to get into rope bondage specifics in this week’s blog because the Bad Kitty Bondage website is a goldmine of really good and useful information. Information that is presented in a much better way than I ever could and with much higher authority than I have. If you’re interested in rope bondage, I highly suggest you check out the website BadKittyBondage.com
Now, moving on to what this week’s blog is about. Just like last week, where I put an emphasis on knowing what the hell you were doing when it comes to erotic humiliation, I am now going to drill it into your head that you can’t just pick up a rope, tie someone up and suspend them from your ceiling after reading or watching a few tutorials.
Kink is a very wonderful thing. If you’re truly into the lifestyle, you will (and should) forever be learning and evolving. Things that may have first introduced you into the lifestyle may not be what floats your boat today. Similarly, things you had no interest inpreviously might suddenly pique your interest.
For example, I never really had much interest in bondage of any sort, save maybe to tie a client up for some tease and denial. When I got a chance to meet Midori when she performed at a gay club I worked at in Toronto about six years ago, I was in awe of her performance and thought it magical, sensual, and beautiful. But it wasn’t kink to me, even though I had been in the kink lifestyle for some time at that point. It was merely performance art. Skip to all these years later, and I would have been falling all over her, asking every and all kinds of questions. Because these days, not only am I completely enthralled with rope bondage, I am also starting to learn Shibari.
The thing is, I didn’t go from strictly using rope to tie someone to a chair straight to determining that I was going to do a full-on suspension scene. No, that would be completely irresponsible of me. First, I read all I could about rope bondage from reputable sources online. Note that I said reputable. When these resources only intrigued me that much further, I sought out books to read. Bondage Basics is an excellent resource and so is Shibari You Can Use by Lee Harrington. Once I knew that Bondage was the next step in my kink journey, I sought out local workshops, ones like Bad Kitty Bondage offer (Here is a list of classes they currently offer), and I got hands-on training from those who were deemed experts. No YouTube tutorials for this girl. And while they can be fun to watch, you shouldn’t be learning through them either.
A few quick reminders: always have an open line of communication with your partner. Of course, negotiate what’s a yes, what’s a no, and what’s a maybe before any attempt at restraining your partner. If you’re simply interested in playing a little game of tie-up follow these very basic rules.
- Have an open discussion before the knotting begins.
- Make sure you have a pair of flat safety shears very close by.
- Make sure you aren’t tying the knot too tight. Allow room for two fingers to fit between the rope and your partner’s skin.
- Make sure you are checking that you are not cutting off circulation often. If your partner’s skin is starting to turn white or blue … time to back off.
- Ask your partner regularly if they are comfortable. If they have the feeling of “pins and needles” … time to back off.
- Use only basic knots, such as a ‘French Bowline’ or ‘Texas Handcuffs’
- Never restrict your partner’s air ways – ever.
- Go slow.
It is imperative to fully understand that bondage is never risk free. The more educated you are, the more practice you get, the better and safer you will be able to perform bondage. But the most important thing to remember when you are exploring anything within BDSM/kink/fetish is that you have to keep an open mind. You need to remain open to exploring new experiences. You have to be continuously learning and educating yourself. The moment you think you know all there is to know about something, do some more digging and research. When you are completely 100% comfortable that you are not risking anyone’s health, safety, or life, and only then, should you attempt anything of any substantial risk. Just because you’re “pretty sure” you understand the concept, doesn’t mean you’re an expert and ready for the big time.
And I’ll leave you with this parting thought: the minute you believe you know all there is to know about kink, is the moment you know nothing at all.
Humiliation. We humans try to avoid it at all costs. Who wants to get embarrassed by someone or something they did? Just the thought of being publicly, hell, even privately humiliated can cause all sorts of feelings. We watch what we say, we are careful who we spill our secrets to, and we try desperately to not slip on that banana peel. But what does it mean if you get off on humiliation or humiliating someone? This week, I am going to examine humiliation and how to make sure you are doing it sanely and safely.
What is Humiliation?
Humiliation is the act of humiliating someone or to reduce someone to a lower position in their own or another’s eyes. In other words, it means to embarrass, shame, mortify, degrade or disgrace. The act of humiliating is to make another person feel those things. In general, I think the consensus is that a person will go to great lengths to avoid humiliation.
But, not every person will go to painstaking lengths to avoid it. There are people out there who want to be degraded. In fact, they get off on getting humiliated, both privately and publicly. And there are people in this world that are more than happy to make that happen for them.
What is Erotic Humiliation?
Erotic humiliation is a subjective act and is used in a few ways. Used as a psychological method, a Top can help a bottom enter subspace. Or it may be used as a form of punishment. It may also just be a specific fetish of the bottom, used as part of their release. Degradation can embody itself in the forms of verbal and physical.
Physical humiliation is where a Top will physically do something that demeans a bottom. Some examples of physical humiliation are stripping your partner bare, turning them into human furniture, using rope to secure them in explicit positions, making them worship your body, controlling their orgasm (denying them release or use of a chastity device), forced anal penetration, cuckolding, JOI and CEI (jerk off instruction and cum eating instruction) and a whole wide range of other things. These things, of course, are done under the pretense of consensual non-consent. You should never attempt to do anything to physically humiliate your partner unless you have had specific negotiations about the act and have been given an explicit green light to go ahead. Even still, pay close attention to the body language of your partner. They may not be quick to speak up if something is not right.
This one gets a lot more complicated than physical humiliation. Why? Well, making someone do a physical act can be a lot less damaging to someone than if you inflict emotional pain. Some examples of verbal humiliation are using belittling pet names, such as slave, boy, girl, pet, piggy, and the like. Closely related would be referring to them using a degrading name, such as slut, bitch, whore, etc. It can also include using insults about them as a person or a physical feature or mockery and ridicule, such as SPH (small penis humiliation). We could delve deeper into the rabbit hole that is verbal humiliation, but I think I will leave it at that. If you are interested in knowing more – do your research.
Make Sure You Are Playing Safe
Whether you are using erotic humiliation within the context of a relationship or just in a play scenario, whether you are the sadist inflicting it or the masochist craving it, you need to make sure that there is a clear set of boundaries solidly put in place. In-depth negotiations are needed before any verbal or physical humiliation play can happen.
A bottom must know their body and the limits it may have, such as their pain threshold or any pre-existing injuries. On the flip side, a Top must be aware of these considerations as well, in addition to having a basic knowledge of human anatomy. No, I am not suggesting you go back to high school science class or to read Grey’s Anatomy. But a cursory look at the where joints, ligaments, and muscles are and their functions is definitely going to make playing safer, and therefore enjoyable. Remember, whatever erotic humiliation is used for, it is meant to enhance, and not be damaging.
The same is true for the verbal aspect of humiliation. A bottom needs to know what they are comfortable with and what may be triggering for them. Again, having a clear path of communication is crucial. They may relish in being called a “slut” or “cum-guzzling bitch” but using the terms “prostitute” or “faggot” may be off-limits. The potential to inflict long lasting emotional harm exists when you are dealing with words. Make sure you stick to the script, never veering too far from words that are similar to the ones given the green light. Avoid words similar in nature to the ones that are off-limits. And again, pay attention to your partners reactions. In the middle of a session, they may not be able to speak up if something has negatively affected them. You may be a sadist but I am hoping you are not a sociopath. You do not want to damage someone in the long term. Causing someone to have no self-esteem or to go to therapy should not be your end goal.
When you’re a freelance writer, it can be important to pony up some of your thoughts for free.
For those of you who caught Gio’s mid-week unscheduled rant, you will completely understand this blog post. If you didn’t catch it, what are you doing with your life? Go back and take a listen!
Gio’s unscheduled rant was because of some “feedback” he received for posting an ad. The ad was looking for writers/bloggers to contribute to Consensually Speaking. His ad was quite clear and is not much different than what I have seen advertised numerous times before for content contributors. What was he looking for? He’s looking for writers who can dedicate the time to contribute useful and enjoyable content and to do so in a timely manner. Oh, and as stated pretty early on in the ad, it is unpaid work. In exchange, you get to highlight your writing chops, promo whatever you are working on, and reach an audience that you previously may not have had access to. Pretty par for the course. Especially when you are dealing with people who are creating a project as a labor of love and not necessarily making money from said labor of love.
Ok, so if you listened to the podcast, you know where I am going with all this. If you didn’t listen to it, stop reading this right now and go take a listen. (Seriously. Why are you reading a blog to a podcast you aren’t listening to?) I am not going to get into the dirty with the details on what happened, you can listen to what Gio has to say about it here on his podcast or you can check the actual post here. But suffice to say, everyone that watched the drama unfold, pressed the pause button to make popcorn.
The whole production starts from the very first response he gets to his ad. The response is from a girl stating she would be interested in contributing if this were paying. Great. I am pretty sure no one is interested in hearing about something that no one asked you about. Too bad you don’t mind giving your opinions away for free. But I digress, this post is not about what went down in Gio’s ad. No, this post is about the benefits of contributing, gratis, to someone else’s project.
I understand her, and her little minion that came along after she got blocked, desire for artists to be paid for their work. I, myself, am a struggling writer. For every paying gig I have, I am offered 10 non-paying. And sometimes, I even cold-pitch for non-paying contributions. I bet you would never guess, but the cold hard reality is: it’s hard out here for an aspiring freelance writer, no matter how good of a writer they are, to get consistent, paid work. I would love nothing more than to be paid for each and every published post I write. But do you want to know something? I am just thankful I am being published at all. After all, how do you expect to ever get regular, on-going, decent paying jobs if you don’t have any published work to showcase? We all have to start somewhere, and that somewhere is usually the bottom.
This also brought up the matter of artist integrity for me. The two major party poopers in this show of ridicuolousness seem to put money on quite the pedestal. As if their sole purpose in producing written material is to make money, and lots of it. Again, yes making a good living off your writing is ideal. Hell, even a livable wage would suffice. And yes, artists are due fair compensation. But reward can take many forms, not just monetary. How about writing for writing’s sake? It’s been proven that the more you write, the better you become at it. I think it’s a little thing called practice. How about creating a vision with your words because that is what you love to do? How about engaging with other artists to do cross-promotion? Let us get real for a minute here, if you started writing or blogging to become a millionaire, you’re misguided at best, delusional at worst.
I would like to make point that is more relative to the Consensually Speaking podcast and this blog as a whole now. While it is true that recently BDSM has become more visible to the vanilla world, it has not made the cross-over to mainstream quite yet. And if you think finding paying position for vanilla writing is hard, try pulling a paying vacancy within the BDSM, kink, fetish, etc. writing genre. If it is imperative to get your work out there for people to see, then it would stand to reason that it is even more important to get your kinky writing published and out there for the right people to see.
In my very humble opinion, I feel like it’s almost a given that in the beginning of your writing career you are going to have to give up some of your musings for free. Chances are, you have a blog that you write for. You likely aren’t receiving any dividends from that. So why do you do it? Why, to try to broadcast your writing abilities to the world of course. Now, wouldn’t it make sense to work side by side with other bloggers, writers, artists, and podcasters in an attempt to further your reach? I met Gio through Twitter when I made an asinine post about funny sounding domain names that are available. He commented that he secured the name that he wanted for this podcast, oralbondage.com. You know how things go, one thing leads to another and next thing I know, we were planning for me to be a guest on his podcast. In an attempt for him to get a feel for me, I gave him links to my professional website, my blog, and sample portfolio of my published works. After doing what I assume was his due diligence in researching me, he asked if I would like to contribute to his Consensually Speaking blog. I didn’t ask how much it paid, how big his audience was, or anything of that matter. I answered with a fervidly and resoundingly “Absolutely!”. Why? It surely isn’t because I don’t think my writing has merit or is worthy of monetary compensation. No. It’s because it’s a chance to do what I love doing, my passion. It’s a chance to sharpen my writing chops. And it’s a chance to have my writing visible to a brand new audience who may have never found me without it.
So, I want to thank Gio from the bottom of my cold, black, sadistic heart for asking me to contribute to blogging for his podcast.
Some people have asked to see my writings. Here is a sample of a BDSM erotica novel entitled XX that has been in progress. First time writing from a woman’s perspective, so I may fuck up, but I have to try:
“Oh my god Zooey! You have to see Kevin’s Facebook post, he is such a douche!”
Zooey smiled at her Chelsea and pretended to give a shit about her friend’s newest love interest. She thanked god she didn’t even have to pretend to nod in agreement, as the steady rocking motion of the train made her head bob, tilting back and forth ever so slightly upon her slender neck.
Zooey just wanted this week to be over, being Friday; all she needed to do was get off this train and get home. She always thought she would enjoy finally being a member of the working world, having graduated from Northwestern six months ago with a degree in marketing. She thought, without all the homework, testing, finals, that she would finally have all the free time she needed outside of the forty hour work week. She was dreadfully wrong.
The firm she worked for was demanding. She rarely worked a normal eight hours; it always dragged into ten or even twelve hours. Add on the thirty minute train ride each way, by the time she arrived home she just wanted to sleep. Needless to say it had completely destroyed her social life.
She broke up with Josh a month after she started working for Maximilian and Kraft, he didn’t appreciate her breaking date plans constantly, due to having to do work at home on the weekends, or staying late during the week. She couldn’t say she was drastically disappointed, Josh was a nice guy, but overall he ended up boring her.
She wasn’t like the college bimbos he dated before her, she didn’t get excited about Jersey Shore, or Teenage Mom, and she definitely didn’t give a rat’s ass what Kourtney and Khloe Kardashian were doing at any time. She glanced over at Chelsea, as she read off another annoying and completely asinine facebook post by Kevin. Josh should have tried to fuck Chelsea instead of me at that party, they’d probably be a better match, she thought. Josh was, for lack of a better word, vacuous. The only thing that kept her going was the sex at least that was good, but even then, there something was missing.
She just didn’t the time or the motivation to meet someone else. She was attractive enough, five foot four, 125 pounds, flaming red hair, and some decent curves. Guys were always hitting on her, every time Chelsea managed to drag her out of the house to go to a northside bar, but after a few faux smiles and forced laughs of feigned interest, Zooey would always throw out the phone number they would give her.
She whispered another prayer of thanks as the train screeched to a halt at her stop and hugged Chelsea goodbye and darted off the train. She walked the three blocks to her apartment at a brisk pace, practically ran up the stairs, and flopped on her bed with an audible groan, letting her heels fall off her feet to the floor in sweet relief. She let out a long sigh that turned into a groan when her phone started ringing. She grabbed her pillow and wrapped it around her face and groaned some more.
Unable to be that person that ignores calls, she grabbed her phone. It was Coretta. With another small sigh, she answered the call. At least Coretta wasn’t as obnoxious as Chelsea. “Hello”, she answered.
“Hey baby cakes, how was work?” Coretta said.
“Eh it was work, just got home now, trying to relax, but yeah.” Zooey replied sarcastically.
“Don’t be giving me any attitude girl, you could have easily not answered my call, but then you would have missed out on some fun tonight.” Coretta spoke with her solicitous and plying voice, which she did so well.
Zooey slapped her hand over her eyes. “Uhg hun. I really don’t want to do a damn thing but sleep tonight. This week was hell, and tomorrow I have to go over my notes for the new campaign and have it ready for Monday.”
“Awww” Coretta swooned. “I promise I won’t keep you out late. You just have to go with me; I need my wing woman there. Please?” Coretta dragged out the s in please; she always did that when she was being insistent.
“Uuuuhg! What is it and where!” Zooey blurted out.
“Welllllllll, remember that club I was trying to join?” Coretta said innocently.
“Oh god Ret, not that bondage thing.”
“Zoe just hear me out!” Coretta squealed.
Coretta had been telling Zooey for months about her interest in the world of BDSM. Zooey had been the supportive friend, but she was wary. Although, she had to admit, it had crossed her mind in weak moments, but to be honest it scared the living hell out of her. She ran into enough normal creeps when she went out, let alone ones that wanted nothing more than to tie her up like a roped calf. Her mind went back to the call when she realized her concentration had drifted away from Coretta’s words.
“I really want to go, but I don’t want to go alone. I can bring a guest with me and you are the only one I’ve talked to about this. It’s just a social meet and greet function at a reserved bar. Please?” Coretta concluded.
“Fine Ret! I swear to god though I am so kicking your ass if some weirdo tries to hogtie me.”
“Ha!, No worriers hunny bunny, I am wearing my spikes tonight, I will de-ball any fucker that tries.” Coretta laughed.
“Are you sure you are the submissive Ret?” Zooey chuckled.
“Hell I don’t know, maybe I have a lil dominatrix in me too! Listen though, get cleaned up, I will be by with a cab at nine, k?”
“Yes yes yes. I’ll be ready.” Zooey said her goodbyes and hung up the phone. It was six; she had three hours to get ready, which meant no time for a nap. Groaning she slumped her way to the bathroom.
Zooey turned on the spout and sat on the edge of the tub. She let the warm water play between her fingers as she adjusted the temperature. She liked her showers hotter than most. She never understood why, but the scalding water on her bare skin seemed cathartic, calming, to where most people would jump out of their skin.
Once she was satisfied with the temperature, she pulled the plunger and let the shower run as she undressed. She tossed her business skirt and blouse into the hamper, glanced in the mirror and saw herself standing there in her bra and panties. Men loved her body. Her waist pinched at just the right spot above her rounded hips, her ass rounded out nicely as well to give a nice little bump, and her breasts, while not large, were a perky B almost C.
However all she saw was pale skin, misplaced freckles in certain spots, and ugly feet. The rest she knew would fade quickly one day. What would she have left after that? The freckles, pale skin, and fugly feet. She grimaced and removed her underwear and entered the shower.
She let out a moan as the hot water stung her skin and instantly began turning it beat red. It soaked her long red hair to her back, stopping just above the dimples above her ass. Once her body adjusted to the heat, she began lathering up. As her hands moved their way down to her pelvis, they slowed and paused at her clit. Instinctively she began slowly rubbing it, letting out a small moan.
As she fell into the pleasure, she began to realize it had been almost five months since she had had sex. Too damn long she thought. Zooey had never been shy about sex. Although she never considered herself a whore, she wasn’t going to deprive herself of something she considered very important in her life because of labels.
The pulsating, telltale muscle rhythms of increased stimulation began tickling every edge of her body. Her mind began to wander to things she knew would excite her more. Every now and then, images of being tied up popped up. She didn’t stop her rubbing motion, but she couldn’t figure out where the images were coming from. Must be some kind of Freudian thing because of Ret’s shit tonight she thought. Shaking her head she stopped distracting herself and began rubbing faster.
The previous images of being tied up, helpless, came flashing back, more frequent this time. She didn’t stop, she was too close now, and she didn’t care. She let out a squeal as she finally climaxed, her juices flowing down her leg mixing with the soap and hot water. Breathless, she leaned against the shower wall. Where the hell did that come from? she thought.
The water started to cool, which shook Zooey out of her musings. She finished washing and promptly got out of the now warm water. She grabbed a towel and dried herself off. A smile played her lips, the fapping session in the shower helped relieve some tension; she even had a case of wobbly legs. She hadn’t had that since the last time she had sex.
She rummaged through her closet to find something to wear. She stopped at the one “little black dress” she had and bit her lip. Fuck it, why not, she chuckled and she thought. Just like everything else, it had been a while since she even tried to look sexy. She didn’t know if it was due to the amazing fingering she gave herself, but tonight she felt empowered.
She finished the ensemble with a pair of red heels that made her legs look great. She smiled in satisfaction at her reflection in the mirror, and proceeded to pick out some jewelry. After some debate, she settled on a simple string of pearls.
Just as she was fixing her lipstick, Zooey heard a horn honk. Her yellow cab had arrived. She grabbed her handbag and made her way outside into the night air. She opened the back door of the cab and was immediately engulfed by Coretta who was squealing with delight.
“Oh my god! Look at you! Hot, hot, hot! You are supposed to be here for me, not to outshine me!” Coretta giggled and gave Zooey another hug as the cab sped off.
“Please, look at you Ret, you can’t not be noticed.” Zooey was just being kind. Coretta was Puerto Rican; smokey skin, luscious lips, more curves than the Monaco Grand Prix. It didn’t help she had tits the size of watermelons and they didn’t sag. Zooey had never been bisexual; even in college the most daring she ever got was to kiss her roommate during a drunken frat party. However she knew if she ever had the desire, Ret would be the one she’d want to play with.
Ret’s attire was more daring the Zooey. Although Zooey’s dress was tight and short, Ret’s barely covered her ass when she stood, let alone if she was sitting. She even went as far as to don a garter belt and thigh highs which peeked out seductively when she crossed her legs. Her large breasts sat in the cups of her strapless dress like bowls of jello that jiggled with every bump of the cab ride. Zooey’s previous confidence in the bathroom began to wane, and she started feeling mundane and boring next to Coretta. She fingered her pearls, Jesus Zooey, what were you thinking? Pearls? You look like a grandmother, her mind berated her.
Coretta snapped her fingers in Zooey’s face. “Hey! You ok?”
Zooey smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking, like I said, work has been hell.”
Coretta sprayed on some more perfume. “Well listen, you forget about all that for now. You have all weekend to be Debbie Downer and drown in paperwork. Tonight, you are having fun!” Coretta looked out the cab window as it slowed. “Oh hey, here we are!” Come on you ready?”
Zooey smiled awkwardly. “As ready as I will ever be. Let’s get this over with”
The pair exited the cab and made their way into the club.
Zooey expected her senses to be assaulted by loud music, gyrating bodies, and the smell of sweat like any other club she had visited. She found that her senses were assaulted, but in the way she had imagined.
There was no loud music; instead there was lite classical playing over the speakers, high enough to make out the sensuous violas and tinny brasses, but low enough to still hear the murmur of conversation that permeated the room.
The attire was even more astounding. It ranged from high formal dresses and suits to people being completely naked. There was a man in all leather, leading a woman around in the same garb on a leash. As they passed Zooey, the man gave a slight nod and a smile, and the woman, who was crawling, had a look of serene pleasure on her face, despite being slightly yanked on her leash.
Zooey suddenly felt completely out of place yet at the same time completely welcome. Her mind tried to comprehend her conflicting emotions. So far everyone they had passed had been completely cordial and kind; they almost seemed to go out of their way to make her feel like she belonged there. She took a deep breath and tried to relax for Ret’s sake.
It was when they had just about reached the bar area that Zooey noticed a pair of eyes watching her, and it was literally just a pair of eyes. At the other end of the bar stood a man; he was dressed in an elegant pinstriped suit trimmed with a red tie, red handkerchief, and red gloves. What was most peculiar was the fact he wore a mask. It reminded her of the old Halloween horror movies with Michael Myers. The mask was also red, one of those plain human faces with no expression, like a mannequin. However the human eyes behind the mask were vividly alive. They weren’t the cliché bright blue or grays, they were dark brown, almost black, but their stare seemed to capture her and not let her go.
He stood next to a woman in dominatrix clothes; she had her arm interlaced around his elbow. He stood there with her, and a few others, entrenched in conversation, politely responding and nodding, yet the entire time the dark abyss of his eyes bore into Zooey. She found herself staring back just as hard. She was snapped out of her trance by Coretta.
“Hey, you there? Do you want a drink or not” Coretta snapped.
“Zooey shook her head and smiled. ”Yeah, yeah. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.” What is your problem Zooey? He’s a weirdo in a mask. She chided herself as she opened her handbag to pay for the drink. The bartender smiled and waved her money away. Apparently guests of the club did not pay for drinks.
Coretta leaned against the bar and sipped the martini she ordered. “So, what do you think? Awesome isn’t it?”
“I don’t know if awesome is the word I’d use. It’s kinda weird. I mean look at that guy, he is wearing a mask.” Zooey motioned to the man that had been staring at her, and she noticed he still was.
“Zoe, some of these people have lives outside of this place that would frown upon their lifestyle. A lot of times it is about anonymity more than anything. I just think it is great, they are so comfortable…oh my god! Look at the dick on that one! It’s huge!”
Zooey glanced over and grimaced. There was a well-built man, on a leash like the woman she saw earlier. The leash was the only thing he wore, and his manhood was, as Coretta said, huge. Zooey was never a size queen, big cocks didn’t turn her on; Coretta on the other hand was. Coretta kept babbling on about the guy’s dick, Zooey feigned interest, but found herself looking back at the man in the mask who kept his stare on her still. Every time their eyes locked, Zooey felt trapped. Those dark pools snared her and she couldn’t get free, she felt small, weak. It frustrated her; no guy had ever made her feel that way. If anything, she would always impose her will to let them know she was a strong independent woman. She felt so stupid for letting a man in a mask affecting her in that manner.
Zooey averted her gaze to her feet. She stared at her red heels for a moment then glanced over to Coretta, who had apparently struck up a conversation with the woman holding the leash of monster cock guy. Coretta walked away with them; Zooey panicked.
“Ret! Wait, where are you going?” Zooey said shakily.
“Shh, relax hun, just stay here, I’ll be right back. Mistress Hera is going to show me some of the tricks her pet can do.” Ret giggled and bit her tongue excitedly. She then winked and walked away leaving Zooey behind. Zooey grunted and rolled her eyes. She looked over to the end of the bar and the masked man was gone. That was when the lights dimmed and a voice came over the loud speaker.
“Welcome new comers and members and thank you all for coming to the Zone Club monthly social. We hope everyone is settled and enjoying the complimentary drinks. If you would please turn your attention to center stage, we have a special treat tonight; a performance piece by none other than one of our long time members, Prometheus!”
Zooey’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and the spotlight over the stage across then room from the bar. The curtain opened and in a chair on stage was a naked woman sitting calmly. The silence of the room was broken with the Fallout Boy song, My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark, which blared excitedly over the speakers.
On to the stage stepped Prometheus. Zooey now had a name for the masked man. He stepped out briskly with a flourish caring coils of rope. He gave a short bow and removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Not wasting anytime and moving with the beat of the music, he grabbed the girl by the hair and stood her up. With cat like speed, he began winding the rope around her at all angles, and with perfectly timed, intermittent smacks, he hit her ass along with the beat of the music.
Zooey was transfixed with the seamless and almost effortless way he wrapped the rope around the girl. The roped first formed a harness on her chest which turned out to be in the shape of a pentagram. Then with the same rope, he created cuffs which bound the girl’s hands behind her back. Prometheus then wrapped the rope under her ass and around her thighs just below the knees. She dropped to the ground and when he pulled the rope taught, her legs spread open revealing her shaved pussy.
He made a few more knots and adjustments behind her back and then tossed the rope over his head through a loop that hung from the ceiling. With a quick yank, the girl was suspended about six feet off the ground, the chest piece hugging her breast making them stick out further, her pussy wide open for all to see its pinkness and slickness. The room broke out into applause. Prometheus did not stop. He spun her around a few times and brought out a paddle. He proceeded to whack her ass along with the beat of the song, the audible smacks playing with the music, and the squeals of painful pleasure from the girl complimenting it.
She stared in disbelief, her hand over her mouth. Then she noticed during each smack, Prometheus’ eyes seemed once again to bore into her. Zooey’s heart beat faster, and she didn’t understand why. Finally he tore his gaze from her and lowered the girl a bit. With a flourish, he pulled on a few ends of the rope at the same time and they completely came undone. The girl fell into his arms and was placed gently back onto the stage. The song ended and the applause grew louder with yelps and cheers. With a bow, they both walked off stage.
The lights came back on, and the murmur of conversation renewed. Zooey could feel her pulse in her neck and realized her breath was coming out is quick shallow gasps. She grabbed her drink and went to sit in one of the plush couches along the wall. She leaned back and closed her eye to calm her breathing. What is the matter with you, you idiot?, she chastised herself.
“May I join you?” A voice rang out.
Zooey’s eyes shot open; before her stood Prometheus. He had put his suit jacket back on, and was once again dressed as formally as prior to the stage show. Up close, she was even more impressed. This man seemed to carry so much respect and attention, yet it was not like he was anything special physically. He wasn’t very tall, perhaps 5’8”. He had a decent build, not chubby but not overly muscular either. He did smell good, that was one thing she noticed being this close. However, she believed she had narrowed down what seemed to entrance her so much; his eyes. Those dark pools beneath that red mask. The mask covered his entire face except those eyes. They seemed to penetrate everything they zoned in on. It wasn’t one of those creepy, ‘I’m watching you’ looks, it was more along the lines of, ‘I can see inside your mind and heart’ gazes. It disarmed her more than she liked.
“Um, yes, sure.” She stammered. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and new her ginger complexion made the blush shine light a beacon. She saw his eyes narrow some and the mask rose a bit, telling her he most likely smiled beneath it. He unbuttoned his jacket and sat down smoothly next to her.
“I am afraid we have not been properly introduced. I am Prometheus. You are new here, are you not? Miss…”
“Zooey.” She spat out. “Zooey Conange.”
“Thank you, Miss Conange. May I call you Zooey?” He said smoothly.
She smiled awkwardly. “Yes, yes that’s fine.” Her cheeks blushed hotter; she brushed her hair over one shoulder.
“Conange? That is French no? Your appearance strikes me more Irish” He remarked. He had leaned back, one arm draped across the back of the couch.
Zooey had a hard time not starting at his eyes. She glanced down art her drink and rolled the ice around. “I know, I am a bit gingy. My father is half French; the rest is a mix of Irish, Scottish, English, as well as my mother’s side. My aunt, my father’s sister, got all her looks from the French side. Her and my cousins are ridiculously beautiful; I was left with the gingy genes.”
Zooey looked up waiting for a response. Prometheus just looked at her a moment, his eyes probing her. The mask rose a bit again in a smile. “Nonsense, Zooey Conange. I believe you got the better of the gene pool. You are beautiful.”
Zooey blushed again and dropped her head, her red hair hiding her face. “Thanks.” She felt so stupid. Never in her life had she acted like some silly school girl. Guys came on to her all the time, even then she knew it was just to get to her pussy. So she always had a confident air about her. They would pose and posture, use all the lines and the key words, ‘beautiful’, ‘hot’, ‘sexy’. Usually, she laughed right in their face. If she was horny enough she might take one home just to get out the sexual frustrations, but she knew what they were after. His voice, it took away all her defenses, and that gaze.
Prometheus leaned forward and his hand hovered over her thigh. “Would you be comfortable with me placing my hand upon your thigh Miss Conange?” Her head shot up and was caught once again in his stare. The combination of his politeness and courtesy to ask combined with the audacity of moving that quickly shocked her. All she could do was merely nod her head yes. His hand dropped on her thigh lightly and slightly held it firm in his gloved hand. “I can tell this is all new to you, and I am sure, quite shocking. I am going to guess you did not come alone, nor did you yourself have the invitation to the club.” He said smoothly.
“No, I mean yes, it is new to me, but no I wasn’t the one invited. My friend was, I came as a chaperone I guess.” She stammered again.
Prometheus nodded. “It can be quite a culture shock to some, however you did not leave, nor did you stop watching.” His hand began slowly sliding up her thigh. Zooey’s breath caught in her throat. What the hell Zoe! Why aren’t you stopping him? Her mind screamed at her. She ignored the mental screams. Her eyes were locked on his, she was trapped. He continued speaking. “I saw you watching. You were intrigued. I can always tell the ones who have the fetish locked away inside, but are too frightened or perhaps reluctant to express it. Is it ok with you if my hand goes farther up your dress Miss Conange?” Again, she nodded in the affirmative. His hand had now traveled up her dress and was massaging her inner thigh. She just realized that she had unconsciously uncrossed her legs.
His voice kept going, hypnotically. “For some, it’s the connection between pain and pleasure. They don’t quite understand it, but somehow, someway, their psyche had made that link long ago. I would like to touch your vaginal area Miss Conange, is that ok with you?” She gulped and nodded yes. The probing, oddly gentle hand had moved from her thigh and cupped her now wet lips. She let out a quick, quiet gasp, but her eyes never left his. “For others, it is the bondage. Something inside stirs them, the thought of being completely helpless and at the mercy of another to what he or she pleases, takes them to a place they have never been.” Zooey’s mind went back to the images she had while masturbating in the shower. Her eyes closed and her mouth fell open with a gasp and he thrust his fingers quickly and violently inside her soaked box. Her drink fell from her hand onto the floor.
His voice kept going as if his mind and his hand were two separate entities unaware of what the other was doing, yet completely complimenting each other in their respective tasks. “They have this primal urge to serve, to submit. Their rational mind rebels, understandably, because these people are usually quite strong and in control in their everyday lives.” Zooey felt her muscles contract as his fingers began to pound away furiously, making her get even wetter. Her head leaned back and she exhaled in rapid, ragged gasps. “But then something happens, something out of the norm that awakens that beast inside. They find themselves unable to resist, no longer able to hide that facet of their being, until finally, it explodes out, like a supernova, destroying everything in its path, but leaving behind a new entity, a new life.” Zooey felt the orgasm coming quickly, her breath came so fast she felt as if she was going to hyperventilate. With the ending of his last sentence, the description of an exploding star, he stopped and pinched her clit hard, very hard. Zooey came with a stunning intensity; her juices flowing out all over his hand and down her thighs. It took all her will not to scream out, remembering finally she was in a room filled with people.
Prometheus slowly withdrew his hand. “All that is left then is for them to decide what to do with this new life.” Zooey’s eyes half opened. She saw him take out his red handkerchief and wipe off his red glove of her secretions. “To either live it fully, or to desperately and fruitlessly, stuff it back into the proverbial closet.”
Prometheus stood and buttoned his suit jacket. “It was a pleasure meeting you Zooey Conange. I hope this will not be the last. Enjoy your evening.” He turned and walked away.
Zooey felt as if she had taken acid. Her body was numb and tingly. The room and the people around her were all hazy and ethereal, as if from a dream. The voices muted and distorted. The only thing she made out clearly was the bright red mask and gloves that walked away from her. For the first time in a very long time, she did not know what to do next. She just sat there on the plush couch, her crotch still moist from the encounter.
The couch suddenly bounced and it shook Zooey from her daze; it was Ret. Zooey sat up straight and cleared her throat. Ret grabbed her hand and was all smiles and giggles.
“Zooey! Oh, my, God, you won’t believe this shit! It was amazing! I’m so fucking horny now. Are you ok?”
Zooey’s mind tried to regroup and make sense of Ret’s fast paced rambling. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I’m glad you had fun. I’m just enjoying the scenery.”
Ret’s raised an eyebrow. “Now I know I saw that dude in the red mask come over here and sit down. What did he say to you? What’s his deal?”
Zooey’s mouth opened with no words. Her mind raced with how she should answer the question. Ret obviously didn’t see everything that had happened. “Um, nothing really. He just wanted to say hello.” Zooey realized there was a wet spot on the couch and shifted slightly to cover it up with her legs. “Are you ready to go? I think I want to go now.”
Ret sighed. “Uhg, fine. I think it was just getting interesting.”
They got up and made their way to the exit. A few feet from the door they were stopped by a nicely dressed man. He turned to Zooey.
“Ms. Conange, I apologize for the rudeness. I was instructed my Dominus Prometheus to extend to you an invitation.” The man reached into his pocket and removed a card that he handed to Zooey. It was a standard size business card, but made of metal. Embossed on the front in red lettering was the word Elysium. She turned the card over and it held a date, time, and phone number, June 22nd 7:00PM. That was next Saturday.
She looked up at the man confused. “I don’t understand. What is this?”
The man smiled. “It is merely an invitation Ms. Conange. Simply call the number at the stated date and time and instructions will be given. If you choose to accept them, and Dominus Prometheus sincerely hopes you do, more will be made clear then. Have a good night Ms. Conange.” The man tipped his head in a slight bow to both of them and left.
Ret made a face and chuckled nervously. “Well that was weird.”
Zooey did not know what to make of it. The confusion of earlier returned, as well as a hint of excitement. She dropped the card into her purse. “Yeah, it was.”