by AnonYMous
‘I’m fine. Hey, Eve, this is too all-consuming. Let’s not think about it until we get you tested tomorrow. Let’s cook a feast. Alice is going to be here in a couple of hours. Giddy up, my lady.’
I knew him well. It was time to stop peeling back the layers of his life because I could see he was erecting a barrier and retreating behind it fast. I realised then that I was, too.
A quick shower and I was refreshed and dressed in a short red dress with thin straps over my shoulders. When I looked in the mirror I looked starved, betraying my state of deprivation. I added an apricot-coloured angora wrap drooped over my shoulders and belted loosely around my waist to hide the evidence. Note to self: eat more.
Alice arrived and we reintroduced ourselves. It never ceased to surprise me how beautiful the skin of some Malaysians was, and Alice was definitely one of the lucky ones. She had the same sort of upbeat energy and humour as Ben, and during dinner our conversation had an easy flow. Afterwards Ben excused himself, headed into his office and left us to chat.
Alice handed me the latest copy of her magazine, Budaya, as a reference for the style of writing required. I loved the sound of the name Budaya, and when I later translated it into English via Google, I discovered it meant ‘culture’. We exchanged ideas easily, discussing our interests in art and switching between the classics and the postmodern. The exhibition was five and a half weeks away and I knew I had to do a lot of research on the exhibiting artists, but Alice told me she would forward me links to various websites, to help my study of the artists and their creations.
It was 11 p.m. when Alice left. I thanked her for the opportunity she was giving me. I also silently thanked her for making me forget about Henry for a little while.
I had called Ben out of his office, so he could say goodbye, and, as I closed the door on her, I turned to see him looking at me with a cheeky smile.
‘What?’ I asked.
I was staring at two masked men with bare chests, dressed in leather pants. They were looking up at a naked woman, whose wrists were tied together up above her head. Her forearms were sheathed, to stop her shoulder blades from popping out, Ben explained, and these sheaths were hung from a chain secured to the ceiling. Her toes were pointed downwards as she tried to stretch them to the ground. It looked uncomfortable, but I could clearly see the struggle was for everyone else’s enjoyment, particularly the two men standing looking up at her.
We had caught a taxi to a club at the other end of Huaihai Lu, about eight kilometres from Ben’s place. From the outside it looked like a derelict house, as there were no lights on and the garden was untended. Ben flicked the miniature torch on his keyring and shone it down a passageway beside the house. I followed him until he stopped at the back of the house. He directed the light onto a metal staircase and I held the handrail carefully as I walked down the twenty steps into the cavern below in my stilettos.
We were in The Dungeon, a small bar with a stainless-steel mesh wall that separated us from the BDSM scene that was being played out on the raised platform on the other side. The music was metal and the throb of the beat was in perfect unison with the choreography being performed before us. We had paid 100 kuai each—about fifteen US dollars—to get access to this private area of the house.
Ben now took my hand and steered me towards the next room. We looked through an opening on the side and saw a man straddling a wooden plank, facing the wall behind him; his wrists were handcuffed in vertical hanging chains that dropped to the side of his body. This was the whipping seat, Ben said, and the ‘client’ could sit facing the back of the seat and be lashed across his or her back, as was happening at the moment. Alternatively, if he leant back against the wall, there were lashings of pleasure to select from.
I was giggling when we left the room. Not that anything was very funny, but I just felt a little out of place.
The next room was pitch black and I waited for my eyes to adjust before I saw it. In the middle of the room was a pit, eight feet deep, and it was empty except for a long pole concreted into the ground. Ben explained that some subs—submissives—were lowered into the pit and were only allowed to climb back up the pole when commanded by their Master. This game would be played out over a couple of hours, and if the sub was too tired to climb the pole, the Master would assist by pulling on the leash attached to their collar.
I shuddered at that level of submission. But then I realised that, in a way, during my relationship with Henry I had been in a dark pit for a long time. Except in my case I hadn’t been able to see the way out, until I discovered his infidelity and that flicked my switch into this new world. It occurred to me that my attraction to a form of BDSM had started all those years ago with Tomas when he had restrained me and made me wait for my pleasure. It was also attractive because it was an experience I had never shared with Henry.
Ben and I retraced our steps to the front door and walked down another long hallway to a bar with a gas fire at the front of the house. I was admiring the red and gold decor when I felt a hand on my lower back. I turned to see a tall man with jet black hair standing behind me and watched as he moved his hand to shake mine. His name was Alex, his accent unmistakably Canadian—and therefore familiar—and he appeared very comfortable in this scene.
He asked if it was my first time in the club; I nodded, but added that I had experienced a form of BDSM. He didn’t have to know it was with a mentally abusive partner and had occurred many times over a thirteen-year period. The difference was that it was without my consent.
We chatted for a while and when he asked if Ben was my partner, I simply said, ‘No, no. I’m as free as a butterfly.’
We both felt an attraction and could read it in each other’s eyes as we talked into the night. Finally he told me that he had to leave, because he was flying down to Hong Kong early in the morning for two days. While he said this, he handed me his card and asked me to call him towards the end of the week. He vanished through the door and into the night, and I was reminded of Anne Rice’s The Vampire Lestat. I slid his card into the back pocket of my leather pants. As I did so, I could feel my body temperature rise.
I couldn’t find Ben so I texted him, asking where he was. There was no reply, so I gathered he was otherwise engaged, and might be for a while. I left the club and had to take the hour’s walk home, as there were no available taxis. I didn’t care, because I was thinking about Alex and what new disciplines I was about to experience.
I was wide awake when I walked back into Ben’s apartment, so I went straight through to the iMac and typed in the website address on Alex’s card. His front page was black, with a picture of a door slightly ajar in the centre of the screen with a flicker of light beneath. I thought instantly of my hutong door in the garden of my old home. To attract butterflies.
All of a sudden a window appeared over the top, requesting a sign-in or join up. Knowing he would be able to find out the dates and times when members had joined, I decided to leave an identity that he would instantly recognise.
I typed ‘Butterfly’ for my user name and ‘chaos’ for my password and found the Chinese character for ‘butterfly’ on a calligraphy site, which I pasted as my ID.
I felt like I had flown through an invisible wall and into a secret garden of human insects, all clambering for some light. I scrolled through the long list of members, most with a symbol or cartoon character as their identification, along with their user names.
Alex was easily identifiable by his photo, the only apparently true identity in the entire list. I private-messaged him to say I was looking forward to his return.
The next morning I waited inside the medical clinic in Xintiandi and was lucky to see a doctor after a short time. I explained the situation and she repeated Ben’s words, that she thought it was unlikely that I had contracted herpes. She gave me a PCR blood test, examined me and told me that there didn’t appear to be any sign of abnormality but that I would need to wait for the results from the medical laboratory.
A week later, I was dressed in a strapless bodice with an orange push-up bra, leather leggings and impossibly high stilettos. I had called Alex, as promised, and we had arranged to meet tonight. I had given him my address and a box containing the outfit had been couriered to Ben’s address yesterday with an attached note: ‘Looking forward to the vision.’
Ben wolf-whistled as I walked out of my room.
‘What is The Fountain Bar like—is it actually a normal bar, or naughty?’ I asked him.
‘It’s not what you call normal, Papi, but it’s nowhere like the BDSM bar we went to last week. You look great and would definitely not feel comfortable if you arrived in one of your normal evening outfits, that’s for sure!’
Alex arrived. I put on my silk coat and when I turned back to wave at Ben as I closed the door on my way out, he winked at me and gave me a thumbs-up.
The bar was jam-packed with people as we made our way to a cushioned alcove that Alex had reserved for us. He slid his hand around my lower back and drew me close, into a fervent kiss. There was an urgency about him and I was enjoying his attention, realising that Henry really hadn’t given me this kind of attention for a long time.
Alex asked me what I wanted to drink and disappeared towards the bar into the crowd of people there. I leaned back against the cushions and studied the outfits of those in front of me. Ben was right, it wasn’t a normal bar. In fact, there were many cushioned alcoves and everyone was in various states of undress; however, there was a certain style about them and it didn’t seem sleazy.
Alex reappeared all of a sudden and handed me a glass. We clinked each other’s drinks and I took a sip. I choked. He laughed.
‘What is this? It’s definitely not wine.’ It had a very sweet taste, but I couldn’t identify what it was. I had never tasted anything quite like it before.
‘I know. Thought we should have some fun. You’ve never had a Hurricane before?’
I looked at him and wondered if this was wise—to accept a drink I had never had before—but his innocent look put me at ease so I shook my head in reply and took another sip.
‘Whoa, go easy on it! It’s a mixture of spirits and liqueurs. To be honest, I’ve never known the exact recipe, but it certainly lives up to its name if you’re not careful.’
He sat beside me and we kissed; his hand felt hot as he touched my cheek. Actually, I was starting to feel very hot and strangely fuzzy, yet I hadn’t felt this good for such a long time.
I was taking another sip of my Hurricane when he asked me, ‘So, tell me, Eve. What is it about bondage sex that you enjoy the most?’
I nearly spluttered my drink back up, swallowing hard to try to stem a coughing fit. Okay, I thought, that’s direct and to the point. I struggled for an answer, trying to remember what Ben had told me, except I was muddled. Then I shocked myself with my reply.
‘Well, in my experience, I’m definitely not the Dominatrix. I’m more into being submerged . . . I mean, submissive.’ My voice had taken off like a locomotive train, and my brain was trying desperately to catch up with it.
Alex was laughing. I was laughing. And then, to my horror, the train was wobbling on its tracks, and heading straight towards a dark tunnel. I couldn’t see what was on the other side.
‘The nipple clamps are one of my favourite toys.’ What was I saying? Jesus, where had that come from? My voice was now out of my control, and I listened horror-struck as it continued, ‘Have you got some toys back at your place? I would take you back to mine, but it isn’t really mine. It’s my friend, Benz. Do you like him? He’s my best friend.’
Alex was smiling. I noticed he had very white teeth, a nice nose and a gold fleck in his right eye. He leant over and took my hand in his and clasped it tight. I was trying to smile back, but my jaw felt locked. There was a rosy glow in my peripheral vision.
Then he pulled me up and put his arm around me; we walked across the bar, out of the club and into the fresh air. Well, it wasn’t really fresh but it certainly cleared my head a little.
Alex said, ‘Let’s go back to my place, because I want to do things to you that I can’t do here.’
I was ready to do anything with Alex and couldn’t wait to get back to his place, if only the fuzzy blur in my vision would go away. At his apartment block I stripped in his lift and we were laughing. Alex was probably more aroused than me—he was excited by the prospect that someone might get into the lift on the way up. Me? I wasn’t sure where my head was, but I was feeling great.
The only thing I remember about his place was that it was very Zen. Minimal. One large bed in the middle of an empty room. I started to lie back on the bed, and then he turned the lights off. I remained still, waiting for him.
All of a sudden I heard his voice directly behind me, or was it above me? And then he was right beside me. We were on his bed, and then on the floor beside a fire. He picked me up and we were on a tree branch under a burning sun, and then the next minute in the freezing cold snow and there was a snow leopard ready to pounce.
He climbed on top and slowly moved inside of me. It was fast and made me think about the heat inside a volcano. When the lava decided to flow I came back to earth and to the bed we had lain down on initially. And then we must have slept for a little while.
When I woke, Alex was asleep beside me and our clothes were strewn all over the room. I tried to get up, but my muscles weren’t working—they felt like lead.
And that’s when I knew I was in trouble.
My hands were bound behind my back and my feet had been tied down to something at the end of the bed and on the floor. My head was pounding and my lips were parched.
I realised then that my drink had been spiked. Had Alex spiked it? I wasn’t sure, but was starting to feel the beginning of a panic attack. If I had been drugged, what if my body had a latent adverse reaction? I concentrated on taking long slow breaths until I felt a little calmer.
But then I scolded myself. ‘You idiot, Eve. You meet this guy once and now you’re tied down in his place with god-knows-what chemicals running through your body. What on earth were you thinking?’
Alex woke and looked at me with a crooked smile. There was something unusual about his eyes, and his skin colour was sallow. I knew I had to tread carefully with him.
‘Good morning. Did you enjoy your trip last night, Eve?’
Something told me not to answer, so I nodded slowly instead. His smile got wider.
‘Bet you felt out of this world. Man, that stuff is powerful. It makes sex so much more surreal.’
I was furious, but scared at the same time. I asked to use the bathroom.
Suddenly he was back to being the charming Alex who had appeared to be a regular guy when we first met in the BDSM bar. The change in him was dangerously quick and I knew I had to get out of there, and fast. He untied my feet and then unbound my wrists, and pointed me in the direction of his bathroom with a slap on my bottom.
I was washing my hands in hot water because my body had broken into a cold sweat. He came to the bathroom door and said, ‘Would you like something to eat? I’m starving. I’ll duck downstairs and get us something from the bakery across the road. Any special requests?’
‘No, nothing for me, I’m fine.’ I knew that wasn’t true, but I couldn’t wait for him to leave so I could get out of there, too. Perhaps he was giving me an opportunity to flee his place while he was gone because he felt my discomfort, but I didn’t care about how he felt. At all!
The sound of the front door closing had me on my feet, throwing on my clothes and grabbing my bag. I didn’t bother to put my shoes on because I needed to be able to run, fast. I took the fire escape instead of the lift.
When I reached the ground le
vel, the fire door exited into a laneway on one side of the building. I ran as fast as I could towards the back of the building and kept on running until I reached a main road. I was in unfamiliar territory, but I knew there would be a taxi rank not too far away—there are taxi ranks everywhere in Shanghai. Before I knew it, I was in a taxi and heading across the other side of town to Ben’s place.
I sent Alex a text. ‘I had to leave. I can’t believe you drugged me. Please don’t contact me again.’
‘Oh my god, Eve. You poor thing. He didn’t seem to be that kind of person. But then again, how could I tell? He was only here for a second.’ Ben was wearing his ‘worry’ look and I knew I was in for a little lecture. ‘Okay, from now on you need to keep me up to date by text when you go on another date like this. Deal?’
‘There won’t be another date like this, Ben.’ I felt embarrassed. It was the next day, about lunchtime, and the first chance we’d had to talk.
‘Eve, I hope you believe me. It doesn’t have to be like this. BDSM can be a lot of fun, as long as your partner and you completely trust each other. Did he give you a safe word?’
‘I have no idea what really happened—only snippets, and I’m not sure they’re real,’ I said, thinking how lucky I had been, how much worse it could have been. ‘What’s a “safe” word?’
Ben sat down heavily on the sofa beside me. ‘A safe word is a word you use for your own protection. BDSM is fun as long as it is consensual and you say the safe word when you want to stop the scene immediately.’
I wondered what safe words I could have said to Henry that would have stopped him from hurting me. Ming vase? Perhaps not.
‘Come on,’ said Ben, suddenly perking up as if he sensed my thoughts had fallen darkly on Henry. ‘Let’s search for some interesting sites. I want you to experience this world properly. I don’t want you to be afraid of it. But next time, Eve, promise me that you’ll spend some time getting to know a guy before you allow yourself into that kind of situation again.’