I've always wanted to be the sexual plaything of others. I've wanted to be tied up, or down, and used and abused. I've wanted to be fucked in the ass, suck cock, do both at the same time, and do it while being tormented.
Perverted, huh? Well what makes it even more perverted is that I appear to be a normal, white middle-aged, American guy. No, I'm not gay or even bisexual, at least not in the romantic sense. I'd say I'm bisexual in a BDSM sense.
I mean no disrespect to gays or bisexuals, but I find the thought of being forced to suck cock or take one up the ass an incredibly humiliating turn-on. What is equally humiliating, or even more so, is to be forced to acknowledge my wants in this area to another. I hate even opening a conversation in this area because so many people think what I want is sick on so many different levels that I have been rejected (sometimes reviled would be a better word) for even bringing it up in a context where I was asked point-blank what my favorite fantasy is. The nicer rejecters smile fixedly, nod knowingly, and slowly back away as if they had just been told I had leprosy.
There was a guy though who actually got it. He got both what I wanted and me. Moreover, he arranged for me to get everything I could have imagined.
When I say he got me, I mean that he got the combination of intense desire/lust for humiliation and sex (and humiliating sex), and he got that I was terrified of those desires and of the negative consequences of being found out by my circle of "normal" friends, family, and relationships. He got that I had to be coaxed to open up and "forced" to do what I desperately wanted to do by making it the lesser of the evils I faced. Once I am started, of course, I am as wanton as could be wished.
I met Mr. Tad at a play party that a local BDSM group was having. I was with (if that's the right word) a pro-Domme of my acquaintance who was using me to show off some of her equipment and skills. I supplied a body both for her to work on (advertising her skills) and for others to work on under her supervision.
There would always be novices at our larger parties and one of another of the Dommes would take shifts giving basic instruction to novices. These were things like the right way (and the wrong ways) to use a flogger or paddle or cane. How to secure a bottom to various devices safely. How to make sure a bottom was all right without destroying whatever sub-space said bottom may have found. Even how to be a good bottom and not overtax the person topping you.
It's amazing how little people outside the scene know about being safe. New couples think you just string someone up and wail the stuffing out of them. Then they wonder why the scene they attempted didn't end up very satisfying. There are some very experienced players who are into deep and heavy and physically and emotionally extreme scenes and activities, but novices don't realize that you have to work up to those levels of intensity.
What that all means is that our Dommes supervise and make sure everything is safe, and all attendees pay for this privilege because not only do we all want safety, but we also believe that no one should get something for nothing. The Dommes are working, they get paid. My arrangement, as the club sub, is that I don't get paid in money and I don't pay money, but I give services (my body for demonstrations and other uses) and I get some of what I crave: exposure in safety, titillation, and even occasionally relief.
In this context, I do a certain amount of things that I either would not ordinarily do or don't feel one way or another about. For example, almost everybody likes to use floggers and crops and paddles and canes and hands on the submissive's body. I don't care one way or another about floggers and crops or even hand spanking or (mild) slapping, but I don't much like paddles or canes. Yet I submit to all of these as part of a demonstration. It's part of the job, and I can handle them, mostly.
One of the reasons the Dommes like to use me as their demo-bottom is that I provide reliable, honest feedback (something most bottoms take time to learn). If I'm being flogged, and the flogging is too much, I'll say something, and whoever is working on me will back off. Some even use it as a teaching moment for the newbies.
One thing I dislike, but have endured more than once, are needles. I don't get them. I don't get what others get in them, but if a demonstration is needful and there's no expert bottom for needles, I do it.
But this is neither here nor there; I was telling you about meeting Tad.
Ms. Joy had just finished demonstrating basic flogging with a variety of floggers and my body was a fine rosy hue as I stood facing away from a piller to which I was attached. For this evening, I was wearing what I considered a very naughty costume: matching red bra and panties. Ms. Joy was tidying me up a bit--she moves the fabric around to suit herself when she wants to demonstrate her incredible technique on a nipple or a cock--putting my clothing back in order and thanking me. Mr. Tad comes up and introduces himself to Ms. Joy and compliments her on her technique.
He's maybe 6'4" or 5" with a very full head of white hair and a trim salt and pepper beard. He's dressed in leathers: leather vest over lean, bare, hairy chest, leather chaps over black pants, and leather boots. The full regalia of a Top Man of the old school. He has a deep, commanding voice with subtle undertones of gentleness. I found him fascinating to look at. He ignored me, of course, recognizing me as just a prop for Ms. Joy's work.
He and Ms. Joy exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes. Then he asked if he could speak with me.
"That's up to him," Ms. Joy answered. "Jim here was kind enough to help me out, but he's not one of mine."
"Oh? To whom does he belong? I would hate to breach any rules of etiquette."
"Don't need to speak to anybody else," Ms. Joy answered. "He's no one's, that I know of, at the moment." She looked at me for confirmation, and I nodded my head. I wondered where this was going?
"Well, thank you, Ms. Joy," he said to her, and she walked off. Then, turning to me and stuck out his hand for a handshake. "My name is Tad."
I smiled and answered, "My name is Jim, and I'm sorry I can't shake your hand. But, as you can see, I'm a little tied up at the moment, Sir." I glanced up at my cuffed hands hanging about a foot over my head.
"Yes, so you are. Are you comfortable? Do you want to be let down?"
"If it's all the same to you, Sir," I said, "I'd like to stay like this for awhile. You never know when someone will come along who wants to play." I grinned what I hoped was a friendly, even inviting, grin.
"But you don't mind talking? It doesn't interfere with your pleasures?"
I thought about it before answering. On the one hand, no one else would approach while he was talking to me, but on the other hand, he was an interesting new face. And he had such an easy manner as well as a commanding presence that I thought it might be worthwhile to invest a bit of time getting to know him. Who knew? We might be involved in a scene sometime.
"Sir, you're not interfering with anything, as I'm just on display at the moment, and talking to you might keep my mind from wandering into trouble."
"I wanted to ask you about your, uh, display," he said. What's with the bra and panties? Are you a cross-dresser?"
"Well, yes and no." I stopped. How to explain this. "I'm really quite uncomfortable with being seen like this, or I was when I first did it. I'm getting used to it. Those who know me will see in it a sign that I'm feeling particularly randy tonight and might be available for some slutty activity. Probably no one will do more than tease me and make fun of me and get me hard and then leave me to suffer unfulfilled. But I do have hopes that something more might happen."
"Such as?" he asked. He was listening attentively, but I couldn't read anything more into his face than polite interest in someone else's hobby.
"Such as," I echoed. "Oh my. How to explain it all." I could feel myself starting to blush, and I could feel blood rushing into another part of my anatomy, too. I was starting to get that feeling of delicious agony that comes from being embarrassed and turned on at the same time. But how to explain it? I've never really had a lot of success at getting it across.
Tad noticed the flush coming over me and looked down to see the bulge showing up in red panties not designed for such extra equipment. "You get off on being embarrassed?" he asked, and his town was polite and respectful.
"Well, yes Sir," I answered.
"And just how embarrassed would you like to be?"
That was the big question. But how to answer it? I took a deep breath. "Sir, I would like to be used, and abused as a slut."
"What does that mean?"
He wasn't going to let up until he got it all out of me. I looked away at nothing in particular; I just couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. "Sir, my ideal scenario would be to the the guest of honor at a gang bang, to be forced to take on all comers...literally." Was it me, I wondered, of was it getting hot in here?
"Are you gay?" As Tad asked this question, he moved closer and touched my hard on beneath my panties.
I felt myself get even harder and my face flush even redder. I was becoming the color of my outfit, I was sure. "Oh, God," I sighed as I moved uncomfortably under his gaze, his question, his touch. "No...not ordinarily."
He began to stroke me lightly with his fingertips through the thin fabric of my bright red panties. "Not ordinarily?"
It was becoming difficult to concentrate. His touch felt so good. It was turning me on so much. And yet it was so embarrassing to have a man doing this to me in a public play room with people walking through or even standing around and watching. "Only...only when I'm...oh god...when I'm like this," I finally managed to get out.
He arched an eyebrow and in that move his face reminded me of Mr. Spock's from Star Trek: calm, cool, quizzical. "Only when you're like this. Like this, how?" His fingers kept tracing lazy patterns along my growing cock, and suddenly I could feel the tip poking out the top of the panties. I could feel the air on it and I knew that whoever was watching was seeing me like this.
I groaned a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. I was on that delicious knife-edge of bliss and torment.
"Only when I'm bound in some way and forced." It was getting very difficult to talk.
He stepped back, and my legs moved out a step with him. Seemingly of its own volition, my body wanted to maintain that delicious teasing, tormenting contact. But, tethered as I was to the poll, I could only manage a step and an arch of my back.
"Well look at you," he said with a smile as he crossed his arms. "I believe you'd do just about anything I asked at this moment, wouldn't you?" I didn't say anything. I had closed my eyes at some point in this discussion. So I was surprised when I felt a firm tap on my left cheek. It wasn't nearly hard enough to be a slap, but it had that effect on me. "Answer me, slut," he said firmly, but not unkindly.
"Yes, sir, what?"
"Yes, Sir, I would do anything you want right now." I wanted to put qualifiers on it, but I couldn't. I had not the will to resist anything he wanted at that moment. I didn't know if he was what I was really looking for, but at that moment, he sure felt like he was.
"What's your safe word?"
His question caught me off-guard. It was such a change that I had to think to remember it. "Uh, red, Sir."
"Red?" He shook his head. "No, no, that will never do for a slut boy who is wearing a red ensemble. By the way, it looks good on you. Makes you look like a slut."
"Uh, thank you, Sir?" It was somewhere between a statement and a question. I was really off-balance now.
"I think your safe word should be 'blue', slut-boy. 'Red' is your slut-boy word. Whenever you hear me say 'red' you stop whatever you're doing and attend me and do whatever I say. Is that clear?" He was just standing there talking to me matter-of-factly. His arms were folded in front of him as they had been since he had stopped teasing my cock.
"Sir, does this mean we're gonna do a scene? Here? Now?"
"Well that depends on you. Sometime while we're still here, you will hear me say your slut-boy word. If you attend me as you should, we'll do a little something. If you follow my directions and do exactly as I tell you without argument, I think we'll both have an enjoyable time. Of course, if you really don't want to do what I will ask of you, you can use your safe word. I'll honor it, and we'll talk about it.
"But if you use your safe word too often or in ways that make me question your commitment to being a slut-boy, then we're through. Now, I'm going to let you down from your perch. I want you to pull yourself together, relax, and think about if this is what you want or not. If not, hey no hard feelings, and I've enjoyed our little chat. But if you want to be my slut-boy, I think I can arrange for you to get all the humiliation and turn-on you can handle."
With that, he reached up and undid the catch I could not reach, freeing my cuffed wrists, and turned and walked away, leaving me standing there bemused. What had just happened? I felt like I'd spent a couple of hours in a very intense scene, but it couldn't have been more than a five minute conversation. And in five minutes I'd told him things that it had taken me years to tell anyone else.
I looked around, but no one was paying any attention to me. There was a couple laying out toys for a scene, and there were a few people over by the snack area having chips and dip and a (non-alcoholic) beverage. I put my suspension cuffs back in my bag and went to the restroom to get myself together for a minute.
When I came out, I saw Mr. Tad having a cola and chatting with Ms. Joy and The Professor. I had scened with both of them before. Ms. Joy liked feminizing me, as well as flogging and cbt. The Professor was an amateur Dom (that is he didn't take money) who specialized in women, would scene with a man, but seemed mostly interested in any sort of flogger, whip, crop, cane, or paddle. My mouth felt dry. I debated for just a moment about whether or not to go over. What might Mr. Tad make me do in front of these two old friends. But I dismissed this thinking as stupid. Both of them were experienced and had no trouble separating socializing with scening.
I filled a cup with a clear, non-caffeinated cola and downed it in one gulp. I hadn't intended to, but it tasted so good that it just sort of disappeared. Then I refilled the cup and looked for a place to sit. I didn't really want to sit at a Top table uninvited. Besides, I felt like I needed a little space from Mr. Tad at that moment.
A couple of tables away sat two subs I knew: Cindi and Alice. Both were young women, not yet 30 I would guess. I had never scened with either one, but I had watched them with whatever Top they were with at play parties, and they had watched me a time or two. Cindi liked needles and piercing scenes. Alice was more into being suspended and flogged (at least in public). I had no idea what either one did outside of a public/semi-public party. We just didn't travel in the same circles. But I could hang with both of them.
As I sat down at their table, Alice asked, "Who is your Dom, Jim? He looks smokin' H-O-T."
"You know," I answered, "I really don't know. Just met him tonight. But he got into my head quicker than anyone I can remember."
Cindi giggled. "Yeah, we could tell. I got wet just watching you. But he went by both of us like we were chairs or something." Both women were topless. Cindi was wearing only a thong, while Alice wore a woman's leather top harness and leather panties. So it's not like a man wouldn't notice either one. They have decent figures, too; not drop-dead gorgeous but not someone to pass by as ugly my any means.
"I guess we should have worn red," Alice said. We all laughed at that.
"Well, I feel like I've done a major session already tonight," I said. "My head is spinning."
"That," said Alice, looking curiously at me, "is rather amazing in so short a time. Maybe it was a carry over from Ms. Joy's flogging?"
I shook my head. "No, I never got going in that demo. She didn't try to put me into sub-space."
"Well, dears," said Cindi, getting to her feet, "I see my man signalling to me. I'm off to ride the spinning wheel."
"I'm coming with you," said Alice. "I want to watch."
"Have fun, ladies," I called after them.
Now I was alone with my thoughts. But what did I think? Could this new man be trusted? Did I want a Top I completely trusted? Well, yes I did, at least as far as physical safety and protection from the law were concerned. What else was there to worry about? No one gets into these parties who isn't vouched for. There are no sales at the door, and we don't want gawkers. We keep everything well within the law. So someone in our group knows Mr. Tad.
No, the real question is do I want to let him lead me on his adventure. Or was it just his adventure? I wasn't thinking clearly. I needed to talk to someone, but the only people I could talk to were Ms. Joy and The Professor, and they were with him right now. Yes, I could move to their table and sit unbidden, but that didn't seem right. I felt like I should be asked. I don't know why. I mean I've shared many a snack with the other two. It was him. If I looked him in the eyes, would I fall into them again? I've never been attracted to men like that before. Why was he different?
"Excuse me, Jim?" asked a voice cutting through my mental fog. Then I recognized it. It was him!
"Uh, yes, sir?" I said getting to my feet.
"No, no," he said putting a hand on my shoulder. "Don't get up. I was wondering if we could just sit and chat for a bit?"
I sat back down. "Certainly, sir." I motioned to a chair. "Can I get you anything? We usually have a nice spread. Everybody pitches in--" I was rambling, and he cut me off.
"No, nothing for me, thanks." He sat down. "But you seem reasonably well-trained for an unattached bottom. How is it that you have not given yourself to anyone?"
"Well, I have had a couple of Mistresses, but after awhile I guess they tired of me. One of them said I was too needy. The other one left town rather suddenly. I don't know why, though I have heard rumors."
Mr. Tad listened as thoughtfully as he had earlier. "I'm sorry to hear about your disappointment. But you've not been Topped by a man before?"
"I've had some sessions with men," I answered. For some reason I felt defensive. "But they were never more than one time things. The Professor tries out some of his new toys on me. He's as regular as anyone as a play partner. But I'm not what he wants, and if he has to do more than beat me...well, that's not his thing. You know?"
Mr. Tad nodded. "So, what do you want to know about me? I'm sure you have questions. Let me start, though, by saying that I was trained old school, which means I was a bottom boy to some older tops, and I worked my way up in the time-honored traditions of Gay S&M. So I do have some idea of the needs, and the fears, of a bottom. Nobody does it that way anymore, and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."
While he spoke, he seemed almost wistful, and I found myself liking him for wholly different reasons than the first time we talked. He wasn't in a hurry. He was thoughtful. And he seemed so calm
"Well, sir, what brought you here tonight? Are you new in town? Are you even in town for anything more than a visit?"
"I've been in town six, no seven, months now. And I've been swamped with both work and getting a home together. Finally, a friend sat me down and told me I'd better slow down and relax a bit. So I found out about this little group, made some contacts and wangled an invitation. And I'm glad I did. I feel right at home tonight."