She shook her head and dropped her black purse in an open drawer. “No, all I need is a desk and a computer.”
He leaned his hip against her desk. “I sent your friend, Smut Slut, a contract for her latest book, The Bondage Club, but I haven’t heard back from her. You’re sure she wants us to represent it?”
“Not to worry. She’s been out of town at a conference. She’ll be home tonight.”
Hunter slid his hip up on her desk as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What conference? I wasn’t aware of any going on right now.”
Cary lowered her eyes to her desk. “I, um, I’m not sure. It could have been something else. She is always on the go. I can’t keep up.
“Are you two close?”
“Pretty close.” She nodded. “We share a lot of things.”
“Share what things? Like clothes?” He pictured Cary wearing Smut Slut’s black leather minidress and tried not to grin.
“God no.” She softly laughed. “Her taste in clothing is far different from mine. But we do share the same love for Chinese food, white wine, jazz music, books, the list goes on.” Cary rested her arms on the desk. “So tell me…what did you think of Smut Slut’s new book?”
“I liked it, very much. But I can’t help but wonder….” He stood up, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
“What is it, Hunter?”
He gazed down at her, unsure of how to phrase his question. “How does she get such details in her books…I mean, she seems to know an awful lot about bondage and other kinds of… pleasurable pursuits. You’re her friend…is she into that stuff? Is that why she writes about it?”
A devilish smile crept across Cary’s lips. “I get that question a lot.”
“Why do you get that question?”
Her smile fell. “I mean, people want to know if the writers who write about bondage and S&M actually do that stuff. Like Smut Slut. To make any story believable they do have to do a good bit of research.”
“What kind of research?”
Cary sat back in her chair, studying Hunter’s face. “Do you really want to learn about this genre? And I’m not talking about from the publishing angle; I’m talking about from the real life angle.”
Hunter inched his hip back onto the desk. “A real life angle? I don’t understand.”
“If you’re going to learn everything that erotica writers write about, you really need a crash course in the underground culture that revolves around such alternative sexual preferences.”
“And do you know about this underground culture?”
Cary leaned forward, grinning. “An editor needs to be as well-informed as their client.”
Hunter’s hearty chuckle permeated the office. “I would never have imagined you to be….” He paused when an idea came to him. “Can you teach me about this underground world?”
“I’m not sure you will like it. Some parts are…I always stay away from the hardcore bondage geeks. But I guess I can show you some of the less uncomfortable elements.”
Hunter eagerly rubbed his hands together. “Great. When do we begin?”
“Are you free this evening around seven?”
“Seven?” He nodded. “Sure.”
Her engaging smile brightened. “Great. The club meets at seven thirty.”
“What club?”
“The bondage club.”
Chapter 5
Hunter was standing outside of an eight-story glass building on an outlet of the Georgia State University campus located in downtown Atlanta. The structure seemed better suited as an office building instead of a university setting, but Georgia State University was often called “the concrete campus” because it was considered an integral part of the central business district of Atlanta.
Checking his stainless watch, he was anxious to make sure he had the right time when he saw Cary coming toward him. Wearing a pair of slim fitting jeans and a casual top, she looked good…damn good. Her slender hips swayed beneath the fabric of her jeans, making Hunter instantly regret agreeing to see her after hours. The stirring in his belly he had felt in the offices of Donovan Books whenever she was near instantly resurfaced. He just hoped he had the self-control to handle this.
“Why did you want me to meet you here?” Hunter asked as she halted in front of him. “I thought you said we were going to a bondage club.”
“We are,” she assured him. She made a move toward the glass front door, but Hunter jumped in front of her and held it open. “Thank you,” she added with a smile.
“But this is part of the GSU campus,” he pointed out as they walked into a pale gray lobby. On the wall between the main elevators was painted the blue and white panther mascot of the school.
At the main elevators, she pressed the call button. “College campuses are the fastest growing places for bondage clubs. It’s not like it used to be where you go to some out of the way bar on the bad side of town to find like-minded individuals. Thanks to Fifty Shades of Gray bondage has gone mainstream, and several major college campuses now have these kinds of clubs.”
“I’m shocked to hear that, and a little mad that it wasn’t available when I was in college,” Hunter admitted.
An elevator opened to their left and Cary stepped inside. “We’re going to the club that meets here every month. It’s a small group of about twenty core members, but there are a lot that come just to see what it’s about. The group encourages people to talk about their experiences, exchange ideas, and basically accept whatever lifestyle a person believes in as long as it’s consensual.”
“How long have you been coming to this group?” Hunter remarked as the elevator rose upward.
“About four years, on and off. I come to listen mostly, learn about trends, and get a better understanding of the people that participate in bondage.”
“And what kind of person does this?”
“Every person does this, Hunter. There are no stereotypes when it comes to bondage. I’ve met doctors, lawyers, rich, poor, high school dropouts, and a nuclear physicist at these things. I would have to classify it more as a mood than a lifestyle.”
On the fourth floor, the elevator doors opened and Hunter followed her along a gray-carpeted hallway. “What do you mean by ‘a mood’?”
“Sex is a mood. Like hate or love, we have to be in the mood for sex. Bondage is a mood, too. A person has to be in the mood to be either the person who maintains control, called the top partner, or the person who rescinds control, called the bottom partner.” She examined the large oak doors lining the hallway, and carefully read the numbers painted in black on them.
“I thought bondage was about tying someone up and spanking them with a riding crop or something.”
Cary halted before a door with 433 painted in black across the top. She placed her hand on the silver doorknob and turned to him.
“Bondage isn’t about tying someone up, it’s about control. Giving it and taking it. Wait….” She turned the handle. “You’ll get a better idea of what I’m talking about.”
Hunter was expecting to see a circus of people dressed in black leather and tying each other into a series of complicated knots meant to make the human body resemble something that should be roasted on a spit. But the stark white classroom that greeted him was far from extraordinary.
A bearded gentleman with glasses, jeans, and a casual shirt was standing at a wooden podium at the head of the room with a long whiteboard behind him.
“Welcome everyone. For some new faces with us tonight, let me introduce myself. I’m Wayne Coleman, professor of sociology here at GSU. I oversee several support groups on campus for a variety of student issues, but I started this monthly bondage club because of my personal interest in the subject. I have been participating in bondage play for over twenty years, and my goal for these meetings is to make bondage discussions open and comfortable for participants.” He turned to the board behind him, and picking up a marker, he wrote out the word Safety. “Tonight we are going to discuss safet
y when using different bondage techniques,” Wayne Coleman added.
Hunter browsed the assorted desks scattered about the white linoleum floor. Most of those in attendance must have been college students, with only a few older faces mixed in. He was eyeing a young Asian couple with numerous body piercings at the front of the class when Cary tugged at his arm and pointed to two desks at the back of the room.
“Bondage should take place between sober, trusted partners who are fully aware of the risks involved and the precautions necessary to ensure safety,” Dr. Coleman continued. “When performing acts of bondage, it’s important to trust your partner and for your partner to trust you. If you can’t, then I would suggest you find a partner you can trust.”
A gangly young man with green overalls and sandals on his feet raised his hand. “What if you have more than one partner? Like a group thing?”
“That’s a good point.” Wayne Coleman nodded to the man. “Make sure acts are performed in a supervised location, or with a group of trusted friends. If you don’t know strangers introduced to your group, then rely on your trusted partners to protect you from harm. There is a growing subculture of people who seek out others interested in bondage and pursue such activities with people who they don’t know. I have personally heard some upsetting stories from other club members, so be careful who you play with.”
“I had a friend who suffered nerve damage from a black sheet party,” a tall woman with frizzy red hair called out next to Hunter. “She was tied too tight and left for hours by a group she had never played with before. Turned her off completely.”
Hunter leaned over to Cary in the desk next to his. “Black sheet party?”
“BDSM orgy,” she told him. “What toga parties were to the eighties, black sheet parties are to the current college generation.”
“I think I’d prefer the toga party,” Hunter quipped.
“That brings me to my next safety suggestion, the safeword,” Wayne Coleman broke in. “There should be some clear way for any partner to indicate distress and a wish to discontinue or temporarily stop activities of the play. Safewords can be anything, but should be decided on prior to any play. If the subject has been gagged or can otherwise not verbally communicate, a different form of the safeword is needed. For instance, they may hum a tune, or move their hands or toes repeatedly. It is also very important never to leave a bound person alone.” He pointed to the woman with the red frizzy hair. “Like your friend. She should have had a partner she could trust to check on her.” Dr. Coleman came out from behind the podium. “Avoid positions or restraints which may cause a person to black out due to lack of oxygen or impaired breathing. If you plan on leaving a partner confined for any period of time, then make sure to change their position at least once an hour to avoid circulatory problems. Make a point to frequently talk to your partner to ask if they are all right.” He paused and tossed up his hand in the air. “Sometimes we do get rather into our role playing, but it’s best to always make sure that your partner can be released quickly in case of an emergency. I always keep a pair of scissors close by, or something that can cut through rope. And please, remain sober. Alcohol and drugs should always be avoided. Don’t participate in any form of bondage play if you are incapacitated in any way.”
“But a lot of groups we have been hanging with serve alcohol,” the young Asian man with the body piercings spoke out. “What do we do, not go? I kinda thought getting a little wasted made it better.”
Dr. Coleman gave an indulgent sigh. “Unfortunately, bondage groups usually do use alcohol to increase the arousal factor. But alcohol does not arouse, it impairs, and you need to always consider your partner’s safety first. You might find that by staying sober, your experience is much more pleasurable.”
“But where can I learn to tie some of those really complicated ties?” a pale blond man in the second row from the front demanded. He had on a ripped blue jean jacket and wore thick black leather boots. “You know, like the Japanese bondage stuff. I’ve seen those pictures and me and my girlfriend want to try it.”
“That’s a good question and I wanted to address the issue of trying to replicate scenes depicted in bondage photographs or videos,” Dr. Coleman responded. “Visual stimulation can add to the fantasy value of an interaction. But sometimes these positions are dangerous or cannot be maintained for more than a few minutes. It takes a great deal of skill and practice to get to some of this high level inverted bondage, or suspension from the wrists and ankles. Especially in highly artistic Japanese bondage like you mentioned, years of experience with bondage are required to avoid the risks.” Wayne Coleman’s brown eyes took a turn of the room. “Let me briefly mention self-bondage. It is extremely risky, particularly because it violates an important principle of bondage safety; never leave a bound person alone. Without someone to release them in the event of an emergency or medical crisis, self-bondage can lead to severe and permanent physical damage. Especially in combination with asphyxiation, self-bondage can be lethal.”
A general rustling could be heard from a few members of the audience as Dr. Coleman went back behind his podium.
“Now why don’t we take a break and let everyone chat and get to know each other before we get into the hands-on portion of our meeting.”
Hunter turned his panic-stricken eyes to Cary. “Hands-on?”
“The part of the meeting where they practice different kinds of bondage ties.”
Hunter abruptly stood up. “Perhaps we should skip that part.”
“Have you ever been tied up in bed, Hunter?”
“Of course not,” he barked.
Cary slowly stood from her desk. “Ever wanted to be tied up? Handcuffed to a bed? Had a woman make you her sex slave?”
The blush on his cheeks burned his skin. “I’ve never needed any of that to….” He ran his hand over his mouth, controlling the uncomfortable feeling her eyes were creating in his belly. “I do just fine without all of that.”
“So you like vanilla sex?”
He came alongside her, keeping his voice low. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She retrieved her purse from the floor. “Vanilla means you’ve never tried anything like bondage in bed, but perhaps you should.”
His green eyes traveled the round curves of her face. “You ever try it?”
She shifted her gaze to the front of the classroom. “Perhaps I have.”
“Cary,” Dr. Wayne Coleman greeted as he approached from across the room. “I thought that was you.” He held out his hand to her. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here.”
“Professor, it’s good to see you again,” Cary said, taking his hand. “I’ve been busy with work, but I wanted to bring my friend here tonight. Professor Coleman, this is Hunter Donovan. He owns a publishing company that is going to start a new erotica line, and he wanted to learn more about what he will be putting into print.”
Dr. Coleman extended his hand to Hunter. “Great to meet you, Hunter. And we can always do with more books that explore the pleasurable side of bondage.”
“Dr. Coleman has always been a great reference for anything related to bondage,” Cary informed Hunter.
“Yes, I’ve been studying the entire culture since my college days. I was always fascinated with the dominant-submissive mindset. I got so into it that I ended up being a convert. Twenty years later here I am, teaching it in my classes, studying it for my research, and offering groups like this to the public to hopefully improve the safety.”
Hunter glanced about the classroom. “Have you seen an uptick in the number of people attending your meetings?”
“You mean since Fifty Shades of Gray hit the market?” Dr. Coleman laughed. “Yeah, I get a lot more curiosity seekers in here since that book came out. Mostly young girls, thinking they will meet a billionaire with a bungee cord fetish, but they soon learn that’s not the reality of what goes on in bondage groups. Some stay, but most go back to their vanilla sex.”
Hunter gave Cary a smug side-glance. “Yes, vanilla sex does have its drawbacks.”
“Are you a partaker of the bondage lifestyle, Hunter?” Dr. Coleman exuberantly inquired.
Hunter returned his gaze to Dr. Coleman. “Oh, I’ve been letting women tie me up in knots for years.” He took Cary’s hand. “I hope you don’t mind, Dr. Coleman, if we sneak out of the class early, but we have dinner reservations.”
Dr. Coleman smiled through his thick beard. “Not to worry. Come back anytime. Cary knows our schedule. Next month I will be having a talk on the erotic benefits of animal play.”
Hunter tried not to laugh while staring into Dr. Coleman’s puppy-like brown eyes. “Animal play?”
“Where the subservient partner acts and dresses up like an animal. You know, a pig, cat, dog, or cow.”
Hunter tugged at Cary’s hand. “I’ll definitely have to come back for that one.”
After he had all but yanked her from the classroom, Hunter made a beeline for the elevator.
“What’s the rush?” Cary demanded, jogging behind him as his long legs charged down the hallway.
“Animal play?” He gaped over his shoulder to Cary. “Was he serious?”
When they reached the elevator, he let go of her hand and hit the call button.
“It’s just role playing, Hunter. Every couple does it. When you take a woman to bed, don’t you fantasize about her being someone else? Sex is about the fantasy.”
“Sex is about sex,” he insisted. “Fantasy has nothing to do with what goes on between a man and a woman.”
“Man and woman, man and man, woman and woman, it doesn’t make any difference. Sex is about the mind, not the body.”
The elevator doors opened. “Last time I checked, the body had a hell of a lot to do with it.” He rushed into the elevator.
“You’re uncomfortable talking about this, aren’t you, Hunter?”
“No, I’m not.” He waved her inside the elevator. “I’m very comfortable talking about sex.”
The Bondage Club Page 6