With the universe being controlled by a sick, sadistic bitch, it wasn't long after that that my life became extremely complicated, so it was several months before I could figure out a way to return to the club. Some friends and I would go into the city now and then to perform in the stage show for the Rocky Horror Picture Show, which was still enjoying fairly consistent midnight showings in the area. I was always Magenta.
Shocking, I know.
One week, I managed to convince them to eschew the normal post-show party and swing through the club instead; I could barely contain my excitement as we walked up to the entrance. As soon as they were in line for the 'regular' floor of the club, I told them I needed to go to the bathroom and would catch up to them in a bit. Once out of their sight, I headed for the second floor; it took a bit of work on my part, but the bouncer eventually agreed to let me in.
It was exactly as I remembered. Better, really, because I was unfettered by the presence of my former boyfriend and was much more appropriately dressed. As I made my way toward the bar, trying to blend in and look like I knew what I was doing, I was shocked to see a friend of mine, R, who'd graduated a few years before, sitting in one of the barstools. He recognized me immediately, and motioned for me to join him. We exchanged hugs and hellos, and then there was a very awkward moment where we each tried to figure out how to ask the other what the hell they were doing there.
It turned out he'd been frequenting the club for several years, and was highly amused when I told him it was my second time and I'd bribed the bouncer to let me in.
I didn't know you were into this sort of scene- I would've been happy to bring you along with me.
My response brought an even bigger laugh from him;
I didn't know it either!
I was more relaxed than I could ever remember being. As we spent a few minutes catching up, it didn't escape my notice that other people were occasionally looking over at the two of us curiously, or that he hadn't let go of my hands since I'd sat down, and the thought crossed my mind that perhaps I could ask him to introduce me to this strange new world.
The best laid plans of mice and men..
I don't believe in the concept of love at first sight, or soul mates, but I do think that people can have an instant, irresistible attraction to each other. What that stems from, I don't know- pheromones, auras, some subconscious trigger- but it happens, and I was about to experience it first hand.
The voice came from immediately behind my shoulder, and as a shudder ran up my spine I had to suppress the instinct to turn and throw a punch (silly martial-arts-supported paranoia). Low, fluid, the smallest trace of a New England accent.
Aren't you going to introduce us?
R looked.. perturbed, but acquiesced, making the necessary social movements. I turned to see who I was being introduced to, and I knew I'd never be the same again.
Tall, on the muscular side of thin, S was in his mid-thirties with short black hair and angular, aquiline features. He was not conventionally handsome- he might turn a head or two when walking down the street- but his magnetism was undeniable. His deep blue silk shirt was tucked into leather pants that were leaving little to my imagination, but it was his hands that drew my attention; long, slender fingers with manicured nails, a musician or artist's hands, and I surprised myself by suddenly wondering what it would be like to be at the mercy of them.
He had apparently taken my measure in a single glance, and was patiently waiting for me to finish my assessment; when my eyes finally crawled back up to his face, I blushed in embarrassment, temporarily mortified at the thoughts that had been going through my mind.
S looked over the top of my head at R, raising one eyebrow, apparently ignoring my reaction.
Her manners aren't very good, are they?
One of R's shoulders came up in a half-hearted shrug, and as he replied he gazed intently at the bar, stirring the ice in his drink with the tip of one finger.
She's new. Cut her a little slack.
S raised both eyebrows now, and his voice took on a challenging tone.
Do you think that's the best way to gain obedience, by cutting her slack? Letting her sit next to you?
R's head came up, and I saw the barest hint of teeth as his lip curled. She's not mine, S. Back off.
I couldn't help my outburst; their tension was making me uncomfortable, and they were talking *around* me as if I were invisible.
And she's sitting RIGHT HERE! Hello?!
S turned steel-edged eyes to me and very clearly enunciated his response, as if talking to a small child.
I will not accept you talking to me in that tone. Who do you belong to?
R tried to intervene, likely realizing the danger I was unwittingly stepping into, but both S and I ignored him. I stood up from the barstool- damn, S was tall, I'd been better off sitting- and faced him.
I don't belong to anyone, Captain Caveman, and *I* will not accept you talking to *me* in that tone.
There are moments in movies and television shows where characters let sexual tension build and build and build to a moment similar to the one I was in just then. Then one day they'd have a big blow-up about something inane, and suddenly they'd be frantically yanking each other's clothes off. This was not one of those moments; the tension between S and I was very real and had a hard edge to it, and was not going to be solved with anything as mundane as a kiss.
S did not take his eyes off me, merely raised his voice slightly so R could hear him, as I continued to try (and fail) to look intimidating.
She has no ties on her?
I told you, she's new. And she's 17. Don't be foolish.. she's not ready.
S pondered this for a moment, unblinking; I felt like something very important was happening that I couldn't understand, and I hated the feeling. He came to his decision after an eternity.
Unless you have plans to lay claim to her, I'm announcing intent.
R sighed, then chuckled quietly. I don't think even you can handle this one, S.
I thought I saw the beginnings of a smile around the edges of S's eyes, though there was no change in the set of his mouth. My traitor of a brain couldn't help noticing that it was a very nice mouth.
We'll see. Explain it to her, and I'll be back for the answer.
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the room.
I watched him go, blew out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding, and slid back onto the barstool before I fell over. I was shaking and strangely exhausted, and very, very confused by what had just happened. R moved his glass closer to me, and I drank from it gratefully, not even flinching at the underlying hint of alcohol. He shook his head slowly, tapping a finger distractedly on the bar, then looked at me, his eyes clouded by something that looked almost like sadness.
You've done it this time, kid.
I was grateful later that R was the one to find me that night, because the conversation that followed would have been very uncomfortable otherwise. Certainly I wouldn't have been as informed of what my decision would entail if someone who didn't have my best interest at heart had tried to explain it to me.
We were under time constraints, partly due to the fact that the club would be closing within the hour, and also because S was the type of person who would be back sooner rather than later. So instead of finding out what I did/didn't know, R chose to simply lay everything out for me.. subs, doms, switches, TPE, scenes, subspace; you name it, we covered it.
When R brought up the topic of physical punishment, I asked him what he thought subs found appealing about the practice. It hurt, right? He laughed, and said of course it did. But there was a difference between the intentional infliction of pain for pain's sake, and what subs experienced. Good subs, ones that really get into the punishment, zone out during it- the endorphin rush, probably. A good dom can get a sub into that zone and keep them there as long as they want, but they also need to make sure that they don't go *too* far, as it's vital that the sub continue to give feedback on pain level or discomfort.
It made perfect sense to me. I had my own reasons for being curious about this aspect of D/s, though I didn't mention them to R; I had been secretly self-abusive for years by that point. Cutting, primarily, but my extracurricular activities certainly gave me plenty of opportunity for 'accidental' injuries of other types as well. This is neither the time nor place to delve into this topic, and I have a tendency to get *very* soapbox-y over it, so I will simply state this: if the only thing you know about self-abusive behavior is what you've come across on LiveJournal/Facebook/Myspace, then you don't have a good understanding of why I did what I did. Nearly a generation separates me from the kids who are proudly showing their handiwork off to anyone with an internet connection, and I feel precious little kinship to them- I no more understand their motivation than someone who has never contemplated cutting themselves could understand mine.
::cough:: Redirecting.
Once we were done with the generalities, it was time for the specifics. S was a well-known dominant in the local scene, often responsible for setting up the demo shows and workshops that took place in the club. While he was not someone that people routinely sought out for casual friendship, it was widely recognized that his subs were among the best trained, and he was often asked for advice on a variety of D/s topics. R said that the fact I had caught his eye was unsurprising but unsettling; not because of my age or relative inexperience; rather because (in his opinion) S was exacting in his standards, and as a result my training would be significantly more difficult than normal. He thought perhaps I should start off with someone a little more my speed so that I would not be overwhelmed and scared off.
Where R was apprehensive, I was intrigued, and I questioned him thoroughly on what I might have to look forward to should I agree to S's proposal. R obviously couldn't tell me the extent of the relationship S had in mind (that could only be created after lengthy conversations between S and I), but there was one thing he could assure me of: S was a firm believer in strict adherence to the rules governing sub behavior, and he made liberal use of physical punishment to enforce those rules. What I'd read in books was only the tip of the iceberg, and someone with the trust and control issues I had- no matter how intellectually appealing I may find the idea of being tied up and told what to do- would run the risk of serious psychological injury if pushed too far, too fast.
It was a lot to take in. It's easy to sit back now, nearly twenty years later, and take apart/evaluate the situation, to question both S and R's moral character (some of the outraged comments I've heard over the years have included wondering who willingly allows a 17 year old to make this type of decision, especially under those circumstances, or what legal adult knowingly becomes involved with someone who is technically a minor). But the reality is, if I knew then what I know now, I would still make exactly the same decision as I did that night.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I didn't have to turn around to know that S was approaching us. I think it was the fact that I knew he was coming- an ability I've only had with a handful of other people- that finally helped cement my decision.
He placed a hand on the back of my barstool, and addressed R. Does she understand?
R looked briefly at me, then at S. Yes, she does. I haven't asked her what her decision is, though. I assumed you'd want that.. pleasure.
The last word came out through clenched teeth, as if he found it distasteful. S inclined his head toward R and turned my barstool so I was facing him. He regarded me for a moment, then smiled slightly.
Since we haven't formalized our relationship, I'll overlook the fact that you are not behaving in a manner befitting a sub. However, in the future I'll not be so forgiving, and will expect you to show proper deference to me.
I knew what he meant.. he'd already referred to it earlier, when he chastised R for allowing me to sit on the barstool, 'equal' with him. I was committing an additional faux pas by looking S in the eye. However, he was right- we *hadn't* formalized our relationship, so I didn't respond, despite the fact that my heart was hammering in my chest. Indeed, I tilted my chin microscopically higher.
His smile stretched toward a smirk, and it did interesting, pleasant things to his eyes.
R may be right after all. But you'll be an interesting challenge, one I'm not willing to pass up. I am offering, therefore, to take you on as my submissive. Do you agree to this arrangement?
I hesitated only for a moment. I agree.
S nodded once, sealing the deal. I believe you came here with friends. Say your goodbyes to R, then find them and tell them you have a ride home. I expect you to meet me outside within five minutes, no more. Do you understand?
My first test. I was tempted to look to R for some hint of whether this was a good idea or not, but I somehow knew that not only would S disapprove, but that it would damage the still-tentative relationship we'd established.
I understand.
S inclined his head once more to R, and left without another word, obviously confident that his instructions would be followed. I gave R a hug goodbye, a chaste kiss on the cheek, and my phone number, then sought out my friends on the top floor of the club. I told them I'd met up with an old friend and would be getting a ride home; all but our designated driver were too inebriated to question the excuse (they hadn't even been overly concerned about my absence, assuming I was elsewhere on the dance floor), and the DD only jokingly asked if he was cute and single.
Shocking, I know.
One week, I managed to convince them to eschew the normal post-show party and swing through the club instead; I could barely contain my excitement as we walked up to the entrance. As soon as they were in line for the 'regular' floor of the club, I told them I needed to go to the bathroom and would catch up to them in a bit. Once out of their sight, I headed for the second floor; it took a bit of work on my part, but the bouncer eventually agreed to let me in.
It was exactly as I remembered. Better, really, because I was unfettered by the presence of my former boyfriend and was much more appropriately dressed. As I made my way toward the bar, trying to blend in and look like I knew what I was doing, I was shocked to see a friend of mine, R, who'd graduated a few years before, sitting in one of the barstools. He recognized me immediately, and motioned for me to join him. We exchanged hugs and hellos, and then there was a very awkward moment where we each tried to figure out how to ask the other what the hell they were doing there.
It turned out he'd been frequenting the club for several years, and was highly amused when I told him it was my second time and I'd bribed the bouncer to let me in.
I didn't know you were into this sort of scene- I would've been happy to bring you along with me.
My response brought an even bigger laugh from him;
I didn't know it either!
I was more relaxed than I could ever remember being. As we spent a few minutes catching up, it didn't escape my notice that other people were occasionally looking over at the two of us curiously, or that he hadn't let go of my hands since I'd sat down, and the thought crossed my mind that perhaps I could ask him to introduce me to this strange new world.
The best laid plans of mice and men..
I don't believe in the concept of love at first sight, or soul mates, but I do think that people can have an instant, irresistible attraction to each other. What that stems from, I don't know- pheromones, auras, some subconscious trigger- but it happens, and I was about to experience it first hand.
The voice came from immediately behind my shoulder, and as a shudder ran up my spine I had to suppress the instinct to turn and throw a punch (silly martial-arts-supported paranoia). Low, fluid, the smallest trace of a New England accent.
Aren't you going to introduce us?
R looked.. perturbed, but acquiesced, making the necessary social movements. I turned to see who I was being introduced to, and I knew I'd never be the same again.
Tall, on the muscular side of thin, S was in his mid-thirties with short black hair and angular, aquiline features. He was not conventionally handsome- he might turn a head or two when walking down the street- but his magnetism was undeniable. His deep blue silk shirt was tucked into leather pants that were leaving little to my imagination, but it was his hands that drew my attention; long, slender fingers with manicured nails, a musician or artist's hands, and I surprised myself by suddenly wondering what it would be like to be at the mercy of them.
He had apparently taken my measure in a single glance, and was patiently waiting for me to finish my assessment; when my eyes finally crawled back up to his face, I blushed in embarrassment, temporarily mortified at the thoughts that had been going through my mind.
S looked over the top of my head at R, raising one eyebrow, apparently ignoring my reaction.
Her manners aren't very good, are they?
One of R's shoulders came up in a half-hearted shrug, and as he replied he gazed intently at the bar, stirring the ice in his drink with the tip of one finger.
She's new. Cut her a little slack.
S raised both eyebrows now, and his voice took on a challenging tone.
Do you think that's the best way to gain obedience, by cutting her slack? Letting her sit next to you?
R's head came up, and I saw the barest hint of teeth as his lip curled. She's not mine, S. Back off.
I couldn't help my outburst; their tension was making me uncomfortable, and they were talking *around* me as if I were invisible.
And she's sitting RIGHT HERE! Hello?!
S turned steel-edged eyes to me and very clearly enunciated his response, as if talking to a small child.
I will not accept you talking to me in that tone. Who do you belong to?
R tried to intervene, likely realizing the danger I was unwittingly stepping into, but both S and I ignored him. I stood up from the barstool- damn, S was tall, I'd been better off sitting- and faced him.
I don't belong to anyone, Captain Caveman, and *I* will not accept you talking to *me* in that tone.
There are moments in movies and television shows where characters let sexual tension build and build and build to a moment similar to the one I was in just then. Then one day they'd have a big blow-up about something inane, and suddenly they'd be frantically yanking each other's clothes off. This was not one of those moments; the tension between S and I was very real and had a hard edge to it, and was not going to be solved with anything as mundane as a kiss.
S did not take his eyes off me, merely raised his voice slightly so R could hear him, as I continued to try (and fail) to look intimidating.
She has no ties on her?
I told you, she's new. And she's 17. Don't be foolish.. she's not ready.
S pondered this for a moment, unblinking; I felt like something very important was happening that I couldn't understand, and I hated the feeling. He came to his decision after an eternity.
Unless you have plans to lay claim to her, I'm announcing intent.
R sighed, then chuckled quietly. I don't think even you can handle this one, S.
I thought I saw the beginnings of a smile around the edges of S's eyes, though there was no change in the set of his mouth. My traitor of a brain couldn't help noticing that it was a very nice mouth.
We'll see. Explain it to her, and I'll be back for the answer.
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the room.
I watched him go, blew out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding, and slid back onto the barstool before I fell over. I was shaking and strangely exhausted, and very, very confused by what had just happened. R moved his glass closer to me, and I drank from it gratefully, not even flinching at the underlying hint of alcohol. He shook his head slowly, tapping a finger distractedly on the bar, then looked at me, his eyes clouded by something that looked almost like sadness.
You've done it this time, kid.
I was grateful later that R was the one to find me that night, because the conversation that followed would have been very uncomfortable otherwise. Certainly I wouldn't have been as informed of what my decision would entail if someone who didn't have my best interest at heart had tried to explain it to me.
We were under time constraints, partly due to the fact that the club would be closing within the hour, and also because S was the type of person who would be back sooner rather than later. So instead of finding out what I did/didn't know, R chose to simply lay everything out for me.. subs, doms, switches, TPE, scenes, subspace; you name it, we covered it.
When R brought up the topic of physical punishment, I asked him what he thought subs found appealing about the practice. It hurt, right? He laughed, and said of course it did. But there was a difference between the intentional infliction of pain for pain's sake, and what subs experienced. Good subs, ones that really get into the punishment, zone out during it- the endorphin rush, probably. A good dom can get a sub into that zone and keep them there as long as they want, but they also need to make sure that they don't go *too* far, as it's vital that the sub continue to give feedback on pain level or discomfort.
It made perfect sense to me. I had my own reasons for being curious about this aspect of D/s, though I didn't mention them to R; I had been secretly self-abusive for years by that point. Cutting, primarily, but my extracurricular activities certainly gave me plenty of opportunity for 'accidental' injuries of other types as well. This is neither the time nor place to delve into this topic, and I have a tendency to get *very* soapbox-y over it, so I will simply state this: if the only thing you know about self-abusive behavior is what you've come across on LiveJournal/Facebook/Myspace, then you don't have a good understanding of why I did what I did. Nearly a generation separates me from the kids who are proudly showing their handiwork off to anyone with an internet connection, and I feel precious little kinship to them- I no more understand their motivation than someone who has never contemplated cutting themselves could understand mine.
::cough:: Redirecting.
Once we were done with the generalities, it was time for the specifics. S was a well-known dominant in the local scene, often responsible for setting up the demo shows and workshops that took place in the club. While he was not someone that people routinely sought out for casual friendship, it was widely recognized that his subs were among the best trained, and he was often asked for advice on a variety of D/s topics. R said that the fact I had caught his eye was unsurprising but unsettling; not because of my age or relative inexperience; rather because (in his opinion) S was exacting in his standards, and as a result my training would be significantly more difficult than normal. He thought perhaps I should start off with someone a little more my speed so that I would not be overwhelmed and scared off.
Where R was apprehensive, I was intrigued, and I questioned him thoroughly on what I might have to look forward to should I agree to S's proposal. R obviously couldn't tell me the extent of the relationship S had in mind (that could only be created after lengthy conversations between S and I), but there was one thing he could assure me of: S was a firm believer in strict adherence to the rules governing sub behavior, and he made liberal use of physical punishment to enforce those rules. What I'd read in books was only the tip of the iceberg, and someone with the trust and control issues I had- no matter how intellectually appealing I may find the idea of being tied up and told what to do- would run the risk of serious psychological injury if pushed too far, too fast.
It was a lot to take in. It's easy to sit back now, nearly twenty years later, and take apart/evaluate the situation, to question both S and R's moral character (some of the outraged comments I've heard over the years have included wondering who willingly allows a 17 year old to make this type of decision, especially under those circumstances, or what legal adult knowingly becomes involved with someone who is technically a minor). But the reality is, if I knew then what I know now, I would still make exactly the same decision as I did that night.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I didn't have to turn around to know that S was approaching us. I think it was the fact that I knew he was coming- an ability I've only had with a handful of other people- that finally helped cement my decision.
He placed a hand on the back of my barstool, and addressed R. Does she understand?
R looked briefly at me, then at S. Yes, she does. I haven't asked her what her decision is, though. I assumed you'd want that.. pleasure.
The last word came out through clenched teeth, as if he found it distasteful. S inclined his head toward R and turned my barstool so I was facing him. He regarded me for a moment, then smiled slightly.
Since we haven't formalized our relationship, I'll overlook the fact that you are not behaving in a manner befitting a sub. However, in the future I'll not be so forgiving, and will expect you to show proper deference to me.
I knew what he meant.. he'd already referred to it earlier, when he chastised R for allowing me to sit on the barstool, 'equal' with him. I was committing an additional faux pas by looking S in the eye. However, he was right- we *hadn't* formalized our relationship, so I didn't respond, despite the fact that my heart was hammering in my chest. Indeed, I tilted my chin microscopically higher.
His smile stretched toward a smirk, and it did interesting, pleasant things to his eyes.
R may be right after all. But you'll be an interesting challenge, one I'm not willing to pass up. I am offering, therefore, to take you on as my submissive. Do you agree to this arrangement?
I hesitated only for a moment. I agree.
S nodded once, sealing the deal. I believe you came here with friends. Say your goodbyes to R, then find them and tell them you have a ride home. I expect you to meet me outside within five minutes, no more. Do you understand?
My first test. I was tempted to look to R for some hint of whether this was a good idea or not, but I somehow knew that not only would S disapprove, but that it would damage the still-tentative relationship we'd established.
I understand.
S inclined his head once more to R, and left without another word, obviously confident that his instructions would be followed. I gave R a hug goodbye, a chaste kiss on the cheek, and my phone number, then sought out my friends on the top floor of the club. I told them I'd met up with an old friend and would be getting a ride home; all but our designated driver were too inebriated to question the excuse (they hadn't even been overly concerned about my absence, assuming I was elsewhere on the dance floor), and the DD only jokingly asked if he was cute and single.
Promising to give them a call the next day, I left the club and stepped into my new life as a sub.
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