Dangerous Kiss

by Michelle Love

  Getting out of bed, I rub the sleep from my eyes and make my way to the shower. My flat is small, and I’m tired of looking at the same walls each day. Summer is nearly here, and I want to go on holiday somewhere, get out of my country for a couple of months and see some other place.

  The water’s hot, making steam fill the tiny water closet. Steeping into the standup shower, my body jerks as the heated water hits it. “Ow!” I turn down the heat and make the water’s temperature more compatible with my skin.

  Memories of the dreams which plagued me bounce around in my head. In them I was different. I was unafraid, yet not allowing myself to be drawn in by the husky, deep voices of the men.

  The plum shampoo smells great and helps to wake me up. After a shot of something with caffeine in it, I should be good to go. It’s the weekend, and I have nothing to do but study for my finals. One more week of school, then I’ll be free.

  I’m not one of those creatures who freaks out over finals. I know my stuff, as I pay attention in class and have an honest interest in the subject matter. That always helps.

  Turning off the water, I step out and towel off. Throwing on a fluffy pink robe, I wrap the towel around my hair in a turban-like fashion and make my way back into my bedroom. A set of sweats will do for my day of studying and chilling out.

  After getting dressed, I stroll out to the kitchen to make some coffee and pop a bagel into the toaster. Taking the cream cheese out of the fridge, I notice my laptop sitting on the kitchen counter where I left it last night.

  Before I went to bed, I told myself that I’d forget about trying to find anyone to answer my BDSM questions. The realization that no one would waste his time with me settled into my head.

  The dreams have sparked my insatiable curiosity once again and I find myself drawn to the silver laptop. I open it and turn it on. It buzzes and whirrs as it comes to life.

  My attention is taken away from the device as the toaster pops up my bagel and I set about pouring a cup of coffee and getting my little breakfast ready to eat. Sitting at the table, I take my first bite and look at my laptop again.

  “Oh, what the hell.” I get up and grab it, placing it on the tabletop and typing in the search engine I like to use when doing research.

  Tapping in a simple ‘BDSM society,’ I sit back and let the engine find something for me to read while I eat half of my bagel and sip the stout black coffee. A directory of sites comes up on the screen, and I tap the first one. A list appears at the top of the page. The title explains they’re things used to play with. The first item is a spreader bar. The picture looks innocuous enough. But the description says the bar can be made of metal or wood, and it’s used to keep the submissive spread open. It can be utilized on either the wrists or the ankles, and it can even be hung from the ceiling.

  “Oh, my!”

  Why on Earth would anyone willingly be held in that position?

  Oh, well. On to the next thing: medical restraints. A set of four small leather belts is used to hold a person to the bed. I have to ask myself: if it’s all so great, why does one have to be bound to the bed?

  Next, I see something called a monoglove. The poor girl has her arms behind her back and is wrapped with a leather glove-like thing. She’s helpless to move her arms. Again, I must ask myself, why?

  Not only does it look constricting and uncomfortable, it seems silly to me. Does the Dom need to keep his sub’s hands away from him or something?

  Moving on, I find a muzzle gag, a penis gag, and a ring gag; they all look more than a bit uncomfortable. I’m left wondering if I would actually choke if the penis gag was put into my mouth and strapped there. I definitely think I would!

  A medieval-looking device is next. It’s used to hold a person’s nose, pulling it backward so their head is pulled back and their mouth opens. It’s called a nose hook, and I really have no idea why it would be considered a sexual device. It looks like a thing one would use to get a child to accept medicine when they fight about taking it.

  “Oh! I get it now!” A blush heats my cheeks as I think about being forced to open my mouth and having a man’s cock placed into it.

  If I were a man, though, I still wouldn’t trust the object to stop my submissive from clamping down on my dick. And if she has to be forced to accept it, then why’s she there in the first place?

  I just keep finding more questions to ask!

  Plastic wrap is next on the list, and I see that it’s used to wrap up the sub like a mummy. How inexpensive that is, and how odd that anyone thought of that. I can hear the odd couple now: “Honey, can you get the plastic wrap from the kitchen? I think I’ll wrap it around you tonight so I can have my way with you.”

  And the daft woman would run off to fetch the item without a thought in her empty head. No, I just don’t get it at all!

  Something called a posture collar is next on this insane list. It’s just like the white collars one wears when they have a neck injury. Perhaps it’s used to aid in the protection of the neck when being beaten like an animal. The woman who has it on looks equally as uncomfortable as any person I’ve seen wearing one because they had to.

  So, I am left with more questions than I previously had, and my curiosity is banging on my brain to get the answers it requires. But I close the laptop and try to focus on what I really need to be doing, studying for my finals.

  The chair I’m sitting in is made of wood and not comfortable in the least, with its rigid back. Studying goes out the window as I close my eyes and imagine being strapped to the chair with leather medical restraints. A wide posture collar wrapped around my neck makes me sit up straight. A spreader bar holds my legs open and a monoglove pins my arms behind my back. Even the fantasy is constricting and awkward. I open my eyes and laugh as I think about letting anyone do such things to me.

  And those things aren’t anywhere nearly as horrible as the whips and chains. My mind is right back where it’s been for the past several months: bondage, brutality, and why anyone would allow that to happen to them. What type of beasts want to do that to someone?

  In the romance novels, women easily fall in love with their tormentors. Why?

  If a man did even half of the things to me that I’ve read about, I think I’d kill him in his sleep and not have an ounce of guilt over it. To fall in love with such a beastly person is a thing I cannot imagine.

  With the first sting of the whip, I’d vow to kill the motherfucker. I’m sure I would. A Dom would have to use a muzzle or gag on me, as I’d threaten his very existence as he tortured me. And when he set me free, which he’d have to do eventually, well, he’d be the one running scared. Of that, I am certain.

  Perhaps I’d be better suited as the dominator. But then again, I could never bring myself to hit a person. Hurting someone’s feelings is a thing I hate. Actually hurting someone physically isn’t a thing I could do or condone.

  So how am I supposed to talk to a person who actively does these things without judging them?

  If I ask a question such as, “How does it make you feel to hit a woman?” and get a truthful answer, then what will I do?

  If a man were to tell me that he gets joy out of hitting a woman, then I’d detest him. A man who bound a woman, then hit her and took her sexually, well, he’d be a person I couldn’t stand.

  So what the hell am I doing? Why am I thinking about trying to talk to someone who I think is evil? What the hell is wrong with me? And what would my family think of me for even contemplating this?

  Sitting back, I try to rationalize my thoughts. Like a reporter, I don’t have to agree with anything when I’m trying to get information. I can ask questions, get my answers, and move on from the monster.

  It’s not as if I’m going to ask some Dom to take me on and show me what happens in their dark world. I’d never do that!

  My hand moves to the laptop and pulls it open. It’s like my will has taken over as I type ‘BDSM Clubs’ into the search engine. My fingers hesitate as I see
the first link to a club with an actual website. It’s called “The Dungeon of Decorum”, and I click it.

  Looking over the page that opens, I find a message board and type in Is there anyone in this club who’d like to help me learn more about the real world of BDSM?

  Now to see if anyone wants to respond …

  Pierce

  Birds chirp, waking me from a deep sleep. Blinking my eyes to shield them from the bright sunlight that’s pouring through my pale green, sheer- curtained window, I stretch and yawn with the onset of the weekend. With no plans made, I think I’ll make myself a healthy breakfast of oatmeal and wheat toast, then head to the gym. Maybe I’ll just let the day take me wherever it wants to.

  Moving to the bathroom, I turn on the shower, letting the steamy water heat the cold tiles. Multiple jets shoot the water out, hitting almost the entire surface of the tiled walls. Padding over to the sink, I brush my teeth, floss, then rinse with mouthwash.

  Into the shower I go, pouring an expensive shampoo I found online last week into my palm. It smells like leather and sandalwood, making me feel exceptionally masculine. In no time at all, I’m bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and dry off, then dress in casual clothing. Jeans, a T-shirt, and running shoes will suffice.

  Heading downstairs to the kitchen, I find the fridge well-stocked. Edith, my house manager, has made sure I’m ready to cook for myself through the weekend, like I always do. I give the staff every weekend off. I prefer to be alone in my home when I’m off. They come in after I leave for work each weekday and are gone before I come home.

  During the week, I take my meals in town. Most of the time, I get home around eight and usually hit the hay pretty early. I’m a faithful subscriber to the idea that early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. So far, it’s worked wonders for me!

  After making my breakfast, I take it to the table and open up my laptop to see what’s going on around Portland this weekend. As always, I check the club’s website first to see if any of the subs have posted anything I might be interested in.

  The name Jade Thomas is the first thing I see as I scan the message board. I’ve never seen that name on here before. And she’s asked a question.

  Is there anyone in this club who’d like to help me learn more about the real world of BDSM?’

  “Jade Thomas,” I say out loud. “And what does this young lady want to know, I wonder?”

  Without hesitation, I ask my own question, What do you want to know more about our world for?

  I begin to eat my oatmeal as I wait to see if she’ll answer me. It takes no time before I see her response. Just curious. And is your real name Dr. Power?

  Laughing, I type back, No, we don’t use our real names on this site. But I bet you did, Jade Thomas.

  Eating my toast, I watch the screen, eager to see her reply.

  That is my real name. What’s your real name? You see, I’m looking for a person who will be honest with me about the goings on in the BDSM scene. If you can’t be honest enough to tell me your name, then I shouldn’t waste any more of your time.

  Thinking about the fact that she might be wasting my time, I ask, Where are you from, Jade?

  She’s quick to answer, The United Kingdom. If you’re worried about me outing you to society or something like that, you needn’t worry.

  “A Brit,” I say to myself. She’s far enough away, I doubt her knowing my real name would hurt a thing. I type in, Pierce Langford.

  Thank you, Pierce Langford. First, I’d like to tell you that I’m majoring in creative writing at a university in North Wales. My goal is to become a romance author. I’d like to specialize in the erotic genre. But I need some information about certain topics. Topics like the BDSM scene. I don’t fully understand it. Oh, who am I kidding, I don’t understand it all. Are you by chance a Dom?

  I am. Why, you looking for one? I type in.

  Purely to ask questions to, nothing more than that. Are you up to answering some questions for me, sir?

  Her use of the term sir lets me know she’s a respectful woman. But I should find out how old she is before I give her such information. Before I divulge information that might warp a young mind, I need to know your age and your sexual experience, Jade.

  Thoughtful of you, sir. My age is 23, and my sexual experience is limited to masturbation. I am a virgin.

  “Holy fuck!”

  My mouth’s watering with the thought that she’s a virgin. I wonder what she looks like!

  Cool. Not a problem. As long as you’re of age and have an inkling about what kinds of answers you’ll be getting from me, I’m good with answering your questions. So, shoot me one.

  An entire minute goes by before anything appears. Is there a private area we can do this, sir?

  I think about it for a moment, then decide to give her my personal touch. Do you have a Skype account?

  I do. I prefer not to video conference though, if you don’t mine.’

  “Hmm, must be an ugly duckling. That’s most likely why she’s still a virgin.”

  I type in, Not to worry, I won’t try to video chat with you. My number is 999-987-0099. I’ll be waiting for your message, Jade.

  In no time at all, she’s messaged me, and a little ding comes from my phone. I pull it up on my computer to make typing easier and find even her profile picture on the site is nothing but a red rose. I find it funny, as my picture is a black rose with thorns on it.

  Hi, Pierce. Do you mind if I call you that? I don’t want to establish a submissive relationship with you and just realized that by calling you sir, I am doing just that.

  I chuckle as I write back, You may call me that. So, what’s your first question?

  Much too quickly she sends back, Do you like to hit women?

  Not happy with the question, I fire back, If this is some hater who wishes to berate me for what I am and enjoy doing, then you can go to hell!

  Another quick response comes from her, No! Sorry. Please don’t take any of my questions in an offensive manner. None of them are meant to offend you. All are meant merely to learn about this lifestyle. Nothing more than that. I simply want to know if you took up this practice because you had a fetish about hitting people or women in general.

  Letting my anger subside, I give it a minute to settle. She’s just curious. I have to remember she’s young and naïve.

  This is not a thing I started because of a need to hit anyone. I was having difficulty at work. I needed an outlet. I was introduced to this world. I joined this club and found that submissives wanted certain things done to them. I took classes and learned how to give them what they asked for. And I became good at it. You see, some people like pain, Jade. Some people crave it. I administer the thing they feel they need. I do it with them in mind. Not for myself.

  Three minutes tick by before she sends me another question. Do you have an exclusive relationship with your sub?

  I don’t. I never have.

  Do you have a commitment phobia? Or anything in your past that caused you to enjoy this lifestyle?

  Weighing the question so I can answer truthfully, I finally type, Perhaps I do have a commitment issue. I wouldn’t call it a phobia. And nothing is in my past that’s messed up my mind, contrary to what a lot of people think about us.

  How old are you? she asks.

  35.

  Again, some time goes by before she writes anything else. Then the words appear on the screen. I’d like to be clear on what type of Dom I’m talking to. Are you a heterosexual, Pierce?

  I am. Are you?

  Yes. I only ask as I want to write M/F romances and spending time talking to a man who likes men would do me no good. Do Doms only dole out punishments? And if not, have you received any?

  One can play both ends of the spectrum if they want to. There are no rules stating that once a sub always a sub or once a Dom always a Dom. When I was in training, I was hit by my trainer. That way I would know what it felt like to be hit with the items
I was taught to use. But no sub has ever hit me. Nor do I plan on that ever happening. I rule.

  The pause she takes is so long, I begin to wonder if she’s decided to stop our interview. Then I see her next question.

  Are you the type who wants to rule everything? And if so, why do you not have an exclusive sub?

  Her question has me pondering it. Do I want to rule everything? I have no idea. I’ve never done that. The two live-in girlfriends I had certainly needed a firmer hand than I had back then. If I found a woman that I wanted to keep around, I think I’d like to make the rules.

  With my answer, I type, Your question is a first for me. I looked deep inside myself and found I would like to rule if I ever found a sub I wanted to keep with me for any length of time. I prefer things certain ways and would train a sub to do things the way I like them done.

  Do you feel women are inferior?

  Her question nearly knocks the wind out of my sails.

  Quickly, I reply, Not at all. You see, most of us in the BDSM world don’t think on those terms. Women and men have their roles to play in life. With the rise of women’s liberation, women have lost more than they’ve gained. Once upon a time, women were the esteemed nurturers of the family, the keepers of the children, the homes, and their husbands. They made sure all things on the home front were taken care of well and were proud of their job. Men went to work and provided money and security, not only in the financial form but also in the protection department. They made and upheld the rules and used different forms of discipline to enforce them.

  I give pause to allow my words to sink into her head. With the way things have changed in the last fifty or so years, most women balk at this way of thinking, calling it ancient and useless. I wait to see how Jade will respond.

  I’ve never thought about it like that.

  A smile moves over my lips. “Good girl.”

  Jade

  Only a few questions in, and already he has me thinking differently. What he says is true. Women had it much easier before we decided we wanted to be equals in all ways. Not so long ago, women stayed home with the kids. They didn’t have to worry about work or paying bills. That was the man’s job.