“Fuck me.”
It was a command. Erin was offering what I wanted but made it clear she was still in control. Which was good since I was a mindless slave to my senses. I learned that night as I thrust into someone for the first time that I have a serious penetration fetish.
I also learned that as good as MDMA feels, it renders me incapable of orgasm. We tried in a Sisyphean effort until the water was cold and we were physically spent. Erin had no such issues. I couldn’t seem to wipe the smug grin off my face from the number of times I had made her come.
We dried off, dressed, and gathered our girls as we headed for the exit of the suite. The party was still raging, but had taken on a more lethargic tone. By some miracle, we reassembled our complete group and added Sir Liam, who had just finished fucking Minx, to our posse as we made our way out.
I had no idea what time it was or how long we had been in the tub, but when we emerged from the casino and joined the taxi line, the sun was high in the sky and people were going about their days. A group of female tourists joined the line behind us and began discussing us with undisguised disgust.
“Do you see what she’s wearing?” I heard one mutter with a Southern twang.
“Do you think they’re hookers just leaving a party?”
“Think that guy is their pimp?” asked another, looking pointedly at Liam.
I grinned at Erin. I was still coming down from the drugs and the exhilaration.
“Sir,” I called to Liam in an exaggerated whine, “Mistress Erin gave me a hickey!”
I pointed to the mark I knew was on my neck and pouted at him. Liam played along.
“Mistress Erin, you know marks aren’t allowed. We’ll have to come up with a punishment for you back at the room!”
His use of the singular room was not lost on our audience. Their faces were priceless.
Erin’s dark eyes glittered with mischief as she opened the car door and said, “Sounds like a good time to me.”
We made it back to the room and sprawled across the two beds in a giant cuddle puddle as we all recovered from such a wild night and came down from the drugs.
When I got home, I was nervous to tell Wes everything, but I knew that for this to work, there needed to be total transparency. He was turned on by most of my tales of what I had seen. He was curiously unconcerned about what had happened with Erin. There was a dramatic distinction for him between me being with other men and other women. In his mind, things I did with other women were just for show or silly fun. It didn’t occur to him that there was an emotional connection there as well that was more of a threat to our relationship than another man would be. Men mostly just seem to worry about other penises without realizing that it’s women’s hearts that run away with them.
28. VANESSA
The next party I attended was a gathering of my college friends, but I brought Dom and Vanessa along for shits and giggles. I had work at the jobsite the next morning, but planned to leave the party early enough that it wouldn’t be a big deal. It was a typical college party with kegs, drinking games, and socializing, but somehow it felt different. It was really me who had changed. I couldn’t put my finger on the differences between a party with my vanilla friends and with my kinky friends—besides the obvious that no one was publicly committing perverse sexual acts at the former. It was more than that. My college friends hadn’t figured out who they were yet. They all still carried around a barrier of insecurity that would protect them from standing out too much from the herd.
After a few drinks, I eventually relaxed back into old routines. I still knew how to be Jenny. I just felt less and less comfortable in her skin.
We were standing around outside when a particularly obnoxious girl, Leslie, came running over to us waving her phone triumphantly.
“Oh, my God, Jenny! Is this you?”
A glance at her screen told me she had found the Dungeon Web site. My stomach dropped. My close friends knew by now what I had been up to, and I wasn’t ashamed of what I was doing. But I didn’t exactly need it publicized out of context to my entire friend group either.
Leslie had managed to attract the attention of everyone outside by the time she started drunkenly yelling my profile aloud.
“As a sub, I have discovered how much I especially enjoy role-play and tickling. Ropes thrill me. I love the challenge of leaving my comfort zone to yield as your little slave. I’m always looking for adventure … think you’re up to the task?”
My initial plan was to act like I didn’t give a fuck, knowing that the more I protested, the more interesting the story became. But it was interesting enough without me saying a word. And she just kept going.
“As your Dominant, I enjoy role-play, spanking, flogging, and a variety of other delightful instruments. Feminization, puppy play, and humiliation amuse me endlessly. I relish anything corporal. I absolutely love to have my dainty size-seven feet worshipped.”
I could hear the key phrases being spread around us like wildfire and tried to just shrug it off.
“Well, Leslie, thank you for that dramatic reading!”
“So, Scarlett, do guys, like, pay you to spank that ass?” she shrieked and tried to spank me.
I could’ve kissed Dom when he jumped in with, “Did you see my profile on there too, Leslie?”
This was just too much for her drunken mind to handle. She stared at him for a moment and then said, “No way! You too?”
He was all charm as he took the phone from her and navigated away from my page to his. The interpretation on Leslie’s face was clear: if the tall, gorgeous, foreign dude is doing it too, then maybe it’s okay. He had bought me the distraction I needed to quietly disappear indoors to compose myself. I couldn’t change what people were saying about me, but I could face them with my chin up.
Unfortunately, Colin had caught Leslie’s performance as well and followed me inside. He cornered me and demanded to know, “Is that where all the bruises came from? Guys are paying to beat you?”
Technically, it was Dom and not a client who had caused those particular bruises, but the last thing I needed was Colin barreling outside to pick a fight with him.
“Yes.”
He looked like I had slapped him. I think he honestly believed there must be another explanation, but my admission had torn through that last shred of hope.
“Jenny, why do you get yourself into this shit? You’re better than this.”
“You know nothing about it. Who are you to stand there and judge me?”
“I love you.”
Okay. Didn’t see that one coming. What the fuck?
“You don’t love me, Colin. You just—”
“Fuck you, Jenny. How the hell would you know? Just let me help you. We can get you out of this—”
“Fuck you, Colin. I’m not some helpless fucking prostitute who needs to be rescued from her big bad pimp and a life on the streets! I love what I do. I don’t care if you judge me for it.”
“Fine! Go be a fucking whore.”
I didn’t stick around to hear what else he would say. I was so fired up, I hurried back outside and impulsively kissed Vanessa. And then Dom. And then Vanessa again. From the smiles on their faces, they knew what I was playing at.
“You guys wanna get out of here?” I asked with a sly look.
They didn’t miss a beat. Vanessa responded with, “Your place or ours?”
“Yours.”
The three of us set our beers down and walked out hand in hand. I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder as we reached the gate, and I wished I hadn’t. Colin looked utterly devastated. And suddenly I felt like a bitch. And a little bit like the whore they all thought I was.
Fuck it.
I couldn’t be the girl he wanted. I still regret hurting him like that, but I’m sure it let him move on much quicker than trying to be gentle with him.
When we got back to Dom and Vanessa’s place, they stripped the bed and put a shower curtain down and then remade it with
a different set of sheets.
“You ever tried baby oil?” she asked with a gleam in her eye.
“Nope.”
Now that I was there, I was nervous. This was my first really intimate threesome with another couple without Wes there. Wes was friendly with Dom, but they didn’t have any interest in playing with each other, so he had agreed it would be fine if I flew solo on this one. During the drive down, we had laid the ground rules that Dom and I wouldn’t have any actual intercourse, but toys and touching were fair game. Evidently, we were going to play with baby oil, something that technically fell within the bounds of a WAM (wet and messy) fetish, but was a different approach from what we had done at Thanksgiving. What that translated to was the three of us dousing ourselves in baby oil and then writhing around on the bed in a sinuous mess of limbs and bodies. Mouths were out of the equation, so it became all about touch. The mixture of Dom’s strength and Vanessa’s softness was intriguing.
I had continued drinking at their place to soothe my nerves, so by the time we were actually playing, I was hammered and let my guard down. In the clouded back of my mind, I acknowledged that one of these days I was going to need to let go without substances, but for now I needed whatever help I could get.
After my intense sub-space experience with Dom at the Dungeon, I had expected a similar encounter this time. It was quite the opposite. His dominant nature would always shine through, but at home it was more playful and relaxed. He didn’t need to prove anything here.
When we were finished and the three of us were lying in a breathless heap, it was obvious I was too drunk to drive home. We remade the bed and showered and I snuggled between the two of them.
We quietly exchanged stories of clients and lovers. Apparently a popular request for Dom was to play out a cuckold fantasy. Men wanted to imagine him fucking their wives. Their wives probably wouldn’t mind, I thought. I told them that my newest regular was an entertainment attorney who wore stockings and women’s panties under his suit every single day. As far as clients went, it wasn’t particularly shocking, but to them it seemed bizarre to have to hide like that. Dom and Vanessa were 24/7 Dominant and submissive, and they didn’t care who knew. I think I passed out midway through telling them about my client who wants to be my sperm slave, trapped in a dungeon and milked for his seed.
I woke in a blind panic. I was an hour late for work and had barely had much more sleep than that. I had rinsed off the night before, but was pretty sure I still had baby oil in my hair and my eye makeup was smeared in dark circles under my eyes. I parked in the structure next to the site and took a deep breath. It was going to be a rough morning.
I made it through my morning meetings and crawled back into my truck at lunch to take a nap.
How the fuck do people party and still have real jobs?
I woke up at five as people around me were starting their engines to drive home for the day. I could only shake my head. I didn’t bother going back in to the trailer to admit what had happened. I just started my engine and began the drive up to the Dungeon to start my next shift.
29. FRANK AND CINDY
The previous year, I had started at the Dungeon just a little too late to attend KinkyCon, one of the BDSM conventions that takes place in L.A. every year, but this year I was expected to participate. All of the girls were encouraged to attend at least one of the days to man the Dungeon’s booth in shifts. During down time, we could attend the various talks and workshops that were offered. I wasn’t quite ready to be teaching a workshop, but a number of our Dommes were also there as instructors.
You know that convention you’ve probably attended for whatever industry you happen to be a part of? It was exactly like that. The main convention floor was filled with booths representing toy makers, video distributors, independent Dominas, furniture makers, clothing companies, and the like. Most of them were giving away freebies, so girls were filling bags with tiny cheap toys and free porn as they made their way around the floor. Our booth was offering demonstrations and performances at the discretion of whoever was in charge at the time. Our subs weren’t allowed to wander on their own lest one of the pervert attendees (and I use pervert affectionately) prey on them, so they were informally assigned to the Dommes and Switches in attendance, and followed us around like little ducklings.
I had reviewed the class schedule, and there were a few that I wanted to attend. The first was a strap-on workshop, which I had somehow persuaded Amelia to attend with me. Later in the afternoon, some maniac was offering a waterboarding demo that looked too ridiculous to miss. Wes had a legal clinic in the morning, but he was going to be there in time to join me for the afternoon workshop.
I signed Amelia in to the convention as a submissive of the Dungeon so that she didn’t have to pay the convention fees, which meant that I got to choose the name on her badge. Under her smiling picture, her name read “Cunty McSquirt.”
I made sure I got to the strap-on class early, with Amelia and three Dungeon submissives in tow, so that we could get good seats in the front row. I may have neglected to mention to Amelia that there would be a live demo.
The front tables were set up with harnesses, an assortment of dildos, and a white board, but the instructors weren’t there yet. The room slowly filled with a wide assortment of people until there were only a scattered handful of empty seats and the air was buzzing with quiet conversation. Amelia was fidgeting next to me, not daring to lift her eyes from the convention program I had given her, though I doubted she was really reading it. I was turned around in my seat, freely checking out the rest of the crowd. I acknowledged the people I knew with a conspiratorial smile and a wave, and challenged those I didn’t with eye contact to see if there was anyone interesting. A few people piqued my interest, so I made a mental note to keep an eye out for them at the play party later that evening.
A middle-aged couple entered the room and walked straight to the front, instantly commanding the attention of all present. His hair was entirely white, and his weather-beaten skin made me think of him as an old cowboy. She was well past her prime as well, but still had sex appeal, and she knew it.
“Good morning!” said the man in a voice that reached the very back of the room. Clearly they weren’t going to need microphones.
“I’m Cindy, and this is my husband, Frank,” added the woman.
“A little bit about us…” continued Frank. “We’ve been married for thirty-eight years and in an open marriage for most of that. We’ve been handcrafting leather strap-on harnesses and teaching these workshops for about ten years. We’re not going to make this a sales pitch, but if y’all are interested in our goods, we have a booth out on the floor, and would love to talk more with you after the class.”
They spent about the first half hour reviewing the basics of strap-on use, most of which I knew, but some seemed like good advice. They talked about the best ways to clean both the harness and the dildo between uses, ways to give your partner a good warm-up before drilling them, different sizes and styles of strap-ons, ingredients in lube that could damage your equipment, how to signal to a prospective partner that you were “packing” a strap-on, and overall strategies for avoiding jealousy in an open relationship. I was riveted.
Frank reached his arms over his head in a stretch and said, “Now, we know you’re all here to see the live demo, so why don’t we get moving with that?”
Quiet murmuring followed this pronouncement. I didn’t look at Amelia, but I felt her sit a little straighter. She was a champ, and rolled with this new development to what I’m sure was already a lot to process.
Cindy added, “We’ve got a male and a female demo bottom who’ve been kind enough to volunteer today.”
She gestured to the back of the room, and two people clad in black robes made their way sheepishly to the front. The man was slight of build, in his thirties, and looked so timid I was surprised he would volunteer to stand in front of a crowd, far less get fucked. I concluded that it must be part of
the fetish for him. Perhaps he was into some variation of public humiliation or forced exposure. The female demo bottom was in her early twenties, but her full figure gave her a cherubic look that made her seem even younger.
I expected introductions, but with no further ado, Male sub dropped his robe, revealing his naked, wiry frame and surprisingly hairy backside. Cindy covered the table with butcher paper and patted it for him to hop up. I had to stifle a giggle, not at his nudity, but at the sudden realization that the table they were about to do the deed on belonged to the convention hotel. It was going to be used next for a book signing, academic conference, or tech convention … and the people who sat at it would have no idea.
Male sub climbed on the table, assuming the position on all fours, while Cindy pulled a strap-on over her jeans. I should have been turned on. I was totally into this kind of thing, but there was such a lack of sexual chemistry between Cindy and Male sub that it was like a black hole at the front of the room. Frank gave a running commentary of what Cindy was up to as she mounted Male sub and thrust away. The room was silent with fascination, so we could hear the squelching noises as she added more lubrication. Male sub was obviously flaccid, and offered no sound or change of expression that indicated he was even aware that he was being penetrated. It was awkward, and Cindy and Frank seemed to know it.
“Well, I think that’s enough of that!” Cindy laughed and clapped Male sub on the shoulder as she dismounted the table. She wrapped him in his robe as he stepped back down on the ground.
Frank said, “Let’s have a round of applause for our brave demo bottom!”
It was touching to hear the enthusiasm of the crowd for what had been a pretty lame demonstration. They cheered and applauded as though Male sub deserved an Oscar for his performance. Instead of judging him, everyone was acknowledging the balls it took to go in front of a crowded room naked and let a woman fuck you.
“Now, sweetheart, you ready for your turn?” Frank asked Female sub, patting her on the rear.
The Scarlett Letters Page 20