Newcomer: Part 01 of AFK

This is a fictional story with fictional characters that utilizes many real world locations. While some of the stories shared here are based on encounters I have had or stories that I have heard about most are utter fabrications and the story should be taken as such.

*

It was apparent at once that the group was founded by fellow nerd such as him. The flier Jason held in his hands was printed on parchment paper in a fantasy script font. But this wasn't what gave it away. Nor was it the abundant puns, the tongue-in-cheek references to both 50 Shades of Grey and Eyes Wide Shut, or the fact that somebody had described Hard Limits as "Limit Breaks". It was the name of the group that immediately caught his attention.

Association of Fishersville Kinks. An innocuous if somewhat officious sounding name, but whose true purpose was given away by the bold initials that stood at the top of the parchment: AFK.

"So I hope you don't mind," came Sara's voice from behind him.

She was carrying a mug of something in the coffee family as she strolled around in front of him to gauge his reaction. Her apartment wasn't exactly going to win any awards for interior design -- there was a certain controlled chaos to it all. It perfectly conveyed her life story in a single room: the sink full of dishes said she was a college student, the empty ramen packets said she was a broke college student, and the collection of fastidiously scribbled notes documenting every social interaction she'd had in the past months said she was a psych major. In reality she hated every aspect of the field except for the eventual career opportunity. Being a therapist meant helping people. Studying to be a therapist meant learning to hate people.

"No, I mean, it seems like an interesting bunch," Jason said.

"I might be embarrassed bringing that up after only a second date, but given the events of last night-"

"Yeah, I might be inclined to question your motives about that," Jason remarked, half-teasingly. After all it was only their second date. Last weekend they'd gone on a simple and sweet dinner date. That was more or less how the second date was going as well until an off-hand comment from Sara led to the simultaneous revelation of a shared perversion. Fueled by just the right amount of alcohol to spurn creativity without overly inhibiting judgment the two found themselves experimenting. Jason noticed that Sara wasn't sitting down and took a moment here and there to rub her wrists. No marks -- he'd been careful but perhaps it had been a bit more snug than he intended.

"Well this was to show you that I was genuinely interested in... that. And to show you that despite this being a very small town there's still quite a few of us who are interested in the lifestyle," Sara explained.

"So is this a support group?" Jason asked sarcastically. He then stood up, parroting a common sight. "Hi, my name is Jason, I'm a Sadistic Dominant."

Sara rolled her eyes in a permissive sort of way. "No. It's more like a club. I mean it's nice to know that there are some people here who won't call you a sociopath or an abuse victim because of your personal interests."

Jason nodded knowingly.

Even with Fishersville being in a relatively liberal-minded area of Virginia, the Bible Belt had cinched tight around the smaller communities. It was the kind of community that still had some people turning their heads at interracial couples, to say nothing of any sort of fetishism. Any naturally anything within the LGBT spectrum was right out. To be fair things had gotten better in the larger cities -- Staunton, Harrisonburg, Charlottesville. All the college towns with students from all across the nation sharing their beliefs like a microcosmic melting pot -- the image of America reflecting in its highest institutions of learning. It was one of the things Sara found so fascinating about attending UVA.

"To be honest I'm a little surprised you didn't," Jason retorted. "Gotta flex that psych degree somehow."

"Yeah, no I don't do that armchair crap. If you wanna be one of my test subjects during my thesis, fine. Of course we'd have to stop dating for that," Sara smirked.

"Really? I couldn't be your control subject?" Jason tossed back, taking a chance and swatting her ass lightly.

"I'll give you an F on understanding what 'control' means in a scientific context, but a solid A+ on the pun," Sara replied. "But seriously I mean you don't have to show up if you don't want to, but I figured you might get along with these people."

"It's not like I have anything else to do this Wednesday. Why such a weird day for a fetish meeting?" Jason asked. "I mean you'd think you'd meet on the weekends when you can actually do stuff."

Sara rolled her eyes again, this time with a hint more impatience and whacked Jason on the head with her folder. "It's not like this is an orgy, you dork. We just talk, share stories, network," Sara glanced at her cell phone. "And I gotta get going. Which means you gotta get going."

"Aw damn I was planning to raid your panty drawer," Jason shrugged, sliding on his shoes and grabbing his wallet a keys off the counter.

"Maybe next time," Sara said, albeit her tone was a bit less teasing and a bit more impatient mother. "Just let me know on Messenger if you're showing up."

"I'll tell you right now I'll be attending," Jason explained.

"Don't feel like our potential future relationship depends on your joining or anything," Sara offered as she shut the door behind them both.

"No, if nothing else it's a nice place to meet a potential backup plan," Jason chuckled.

"There's six of us and I'm the only straight submissive female," Sara replied with a hint of jealousy in her tone.

"Was just a joke, babe," Jason's nervous chuckling grew -- attempting to mask his growing anxiety over the awkward task to which he was now committed.

Fishersville has three major roads. The spinal cord of the pit stop of a town is VA-250, better known by its local name of Jefferson Highway. It is this road you would travel if were bouncing between the respectably-sized city of Staunton and the charming whistle-stop of Waynesboro. Along this road, if you were to blink, you could miss Fishersville altogether. There is also Tinkling Springs Road which leads to August Medical Center, an impressive hospital whose top 100 ranking amounts US Hospitals is at least partly attributed to their practice of shipping difficult cases to UVA. And lastly there Long Meadow Rd. which leads to nowhere of particular note. It's a handy country road if you are looking for a back way to get northbound. Or if you're a fresh-faced kink attending his first meeting of AFK.

The small gravel access road just on the edge of town led to a small renovated farmhouse at the outskirts of what was probably once a sprawling plantation until eminent domain parceled it out. It was near enough to society to ease Jason's worries about being taken unawares, but also far enough away to ease his worries about being noticed. He parked alongside the other vehicles, which had taken up a makeshit flank along the edge of the gravel -- a shiny white Prius, a beat up looking Ford F-150, an old clunker of a minivan whose origin was impossible to tell, and an olive drab Bruin ATV. Jason's forest green Nissan Altima was snug at the end of the line but he didn't see any hint of Sara's red Sunfire.

He shrugged and made his way to the door -- she was probably just late.

The door leading into the small two story building was propped open with an old wooden doorstopper, and a helpful sign printed on cardstock pointed towards the left. Jason stepped just a few paces into an immaculate living room, tastefully decorated with the loving touch of southern hospitality. A large L-shaped couch was the center piece of the seating, but there was a beanbag chair directly in front of Jason and a recliner on the opposite side of the L. There was a large glass coffee table in the middle of this semi-square arrangement and an armchair facing the group on the opposite end of it, though it had clearly been dragged from its usual resting place against the far wall. Two bookshelves framed the large bay window on the west side of the room and on the south side there was an archway leading into to the dining room.

In the crowd of people the first person he noticed was the woman sitting in the armchair, a middle-aged woman of color who had a commanding presence to her. She sat with a dignified, regal air, legs crossed but the rest of her body open in an inviting gesture. Even though her clothes were relatively casual -- a white sweater and matching yoga pants, she still carried herself with such poise.

"Well hello there!" She said, turning to face Jason with a smile, her deep brown eyes piercing through him. "You must be Sara's friend."

She clasped his hand firmly, and Jason noticed as she bent over slightly to reach him that her long flowing black hair had slight white streaks in it. While she was clearly older her face and aura was that of a much younger woman, and she seemed to warm up the air around her as she spoke.

"Uh, hi. I'm Jason," he said giving her a brief shake before glancing around for a free spot.

"And I'm Andrea," she said. "You can go ahead at take a seat next to Quenton at the end there."

An energetic bolt of orange track suit stood up and pulled Jason into a bro hug. All Jason saw was a tiny bit of hair on an otherwise bald head as he embraced the man then pulled back to see decidedly feminine features.

"Quenton," he said with a nod. He then pointed to his face. "Female to Male."

"Ahh," Jason replied. "He/him?"

"Yep yep. And you're like the first person in this county to ever actually ask me that outside of these guys," Quenton chuckled. "Andrea runs the show here, but everybody knows I'm the top dog here, so allow me to give you the run down. I'm Quenton, Korean, Female to Male and married to this ebony goddess over here."

The younger black girl sitting next to him gave Quenton a sort of giggly look as she covered her face in her hands. "Oh my god, Quenton."

She stood up out of the couch and took Jason's hand. "Brianna. Nice to meet you."

A well-groomed and sharply dressed white boy sat at the far end of the couch, square-rimmed glasses and a blonde-haired side-shave creating a stylish asymmetry to his face. His sweater vest and khakis were a bit on the nose.

"Oh damn, another straight boy," he smirked. "Straight, white, and I'm guessing Dominant if you're into Sara. Well aren't we pushing boundaries."

"Henry," Andrea said with a pleasant but slightly warning tone.

"I'm of course only kidding Miss Andrea," Henry chuckled. He didn't get out of his seat but he did offer a nod. "Henry, the lonely little gay boy. Well that's not so true, I did pick up a little side action in Harrisonburg the other night, but it's not story time so I'll wait my turn."

He's a delight, Jason thought before noticing hoodied and sweatpants laden kid on the beanbag chair.

"Saving the best for last," he said with a bit of swagger as she slowly stood up. He was a little on the heavy side, but not so that you'd notice it. "Felipe. Don't mind me if I don't talk much, it's not personal. Just the way I am some days."

"You're really chatty when you feel like a girl," Henry teased, patting Felipe's head.

Felipe brushed off Henry's hand. "Don't mind Henry. He likes to get a rise out of people."

"Hey you've shown Buddhist-like restraint Felipe. You should be proud," Henry's patting moved to Felipe's back before he retreated back into his seat.

There was the sound of the door opening and Sara made her way into the room, looking haggard and exhausted.

"Hey guys," she said, clearly out of breath. "Sorry, class ran late."

She spotted Jason, coughed slightly before brushing her hair out of her face and sat on the end next to him.

"That's alright Sara. I'm just glad you made it," Andrea nodded. "So we've all met the newcomer now."

"None of us quite as well as Sara," Henry said Sara's name in a smug sing-song voice.

"Oh shut it, H," Sara replied.

"Now I imagine Jason probably has a lot of questions," Andrea said, bringing the group back on topic. "Basically this group is an opportunity to socialize with some similar minded people. We talk about our lifestyles on occasion of course as this is really the only place to do it in person. We just have some basic rules -- we don't shame anybody for their lifestyle choices, their sexuality, their orientation. We also don't ask or volunteer information about somebody else's kinks," Andrea cast her glance over to Henry. "Although most of us here are fairly open. It's just annoying, as I'm sure you can relate to, to be constantly hounded about your personal interests."

Jason simply nodded, still feeling a little out of sorts with the people around him. But Sara gave him an encouraging smile and that was enough for him for now.

The group started just catching each other up on their latest activities. From this Jason gleaned quite a bit. Brianna and Quenton were switches, and right now Brianna was the submissive. In a game they had played on their nearby farmland Quenton had tied her up and tossed her in the back of their truck and drove her around for a bit to simulate a kidnapping. Quenton asked Felipe to borrow his Bruin to see if Brianna would fit on that, to which Brianna smacked him.

Henry had, indeed, started dating some guy which he'd met in Harrisonburg- a JMU student no less. But he hadn't opened up about his particular fetishes yet. He was also a switch, but he leaned submissive stating that maybe he'd be a bit less mouthy if he could find some nice guy to spank him into submission. Felipe added that everybody there would love to see him gagged. The laughter was a little bit too sincere.

Felipe himself didn't really have anything to add. He was genderfluid, but he didn't really care so much for pronoun games. As he explained to Jason his parents had the accidental prescience to give him a name that, in Spanish, was unisex and that was good enough for him. As for his prospects lately, they'd been fairly barren. "It's hard to know what I want when I don't know how I'm going to feel tomorrow."

This led to a touching moment of solidarity where Henry patted his shoulder, this time without a hint of mocking or smugness.

The group then all turned to Jason expecting him to fill them in on what he'd been doing with their mutual friend.

"Uh, Sara can explain," Jason replied.

"No, no, you're the Dominant. It's your job," Sara replied with a grin.

"You don't actually have to go into detail at all," Andrea reaffirmed. "It's just nice to have a place where you can talk about these things. It's here for you if you want, you don't have to share."

"Alright then," Jason said. "Well..."

He went into the story of the date night. It had all begun so innocently. They were eating and since the pub was pretty dead, Sara had begun asking him -- partly inspired by the alochol -- what sort of stuff he was into.

"Well," Jason said with confidence bolstered by a screwdriver. "I really girls tying tied."

He processed his statement for a few moments, made a conscious decision to stop drinking any further and attempted to reboot his brain. He eventually spat out. "I enjoy bondage."

"So you like tie me to the bed and stuff?" Sara said, giggling slightly.

Giggling at an aroused Dom is an excellent way to jumpstart his drive to control. "Yeah and maybe gag you so you don't have anything to laugh about."

Sara knew what she was doing. "Sure. Right." She put her hands together and held them across the table at him. "Let's see it."

"Not here," Jason said putting her hands down on the table, holding them together with one hand.

There was a momentary awkward display where Jason led her up to the front of the restaurant to pay their bill, not helped by her insistence on keeping her hands tucked firmly behind her back as she waited for him to pay. When he finally got her out to the car he was able to begin regaining some control of the situation.

"You're sure?" Jason asked.

"I'm not that drunk," Sara shrugged.

That was good enough for him and he used a bit of bungie cord which he kept in his trunk to bind her hands together, wrapping the hook around the underside of the seat to keep her hands down. Jason started the car and began to drive her to her apartment. The journey was one of her goading him, commenting about how awkward it would be if a cop stopped them.

The walk up to her apartment was the most harrowing of all, even with it being well after dark. Sara refused to let her untie him, playfully pulling her hands away when he tried to unbind her. He finally just chose to wrap his jacket around her front and lead her up to the door. She stumbled a bit, but it probably had more to do with her heels than the alcohol.

The second the door closed behind them, Jason let his dom persona take over. He ripped his jacket off of her.

"Knees. Now." He said.

Sara played her part well, instantly dropping to her knees and putting her head to the floor. Her thin white dress was almost too perfect, and Jason could make out the outlines of her white lingerie underneath. She certainly was playing the innocent damsel role well in her attire, even if her attitude didn't exactly match.

He could correct that.

"Where are your toys?" He asked.

"I don't know what you mean, sir. I'm a good girl," Sara said with a smile.

Jason grabbed her by her bound hands and dragged her over to the couch. She let him run her along the carpet, even though one of her heels slid off and he tore her leggings from the rug-burn. A quick peel later, and a harsh yank on her panties and her bare ass was exposed to him. He gave her three quick and sharp strikes on her ass before making another demand.

"Where are they?" He asked again.

"Please don't, sir. I'm a good girl," but there was still that teasing tone of voice. She wasn't impressed yet.

A few more harsh strikes came, but Sara took them like a veteran. Clearly mere pedestrian spanking wasn't going to satisfy her. Jason had to find some way to get her to divulge her secrets, and he would have to be a bit creative about it.

He lifted her up off of the couch, stripping off her other heel, the shredded leggings and her panties, leaving her bare from the waist down. He took the bungie cord he had and unbound her hands, leading her along to her bedroom. There was a small wooden desk chair -- no cushion and a rigid back. Ideal for keeping you focused on the paper you are writing, and providing an unsympathetic surface to be bound to.

He turned the chair around and had her sit facing the back. The gap between the slats that served as a backing were suspiciously perfectly spaced to allow her tits to squeeze through, leaving them exposed. Jason ordered her to remove her bra, which she did with only the tiniest hint of reluctance, leaving her wearing nothing but her dress. This became useless as Jason enact his plan, sliding her dress down to the middle and popping her breasts out of the top, sliding them through the slats and allowing them to hang. They had to be pushed through and without a helping hand, or a considerable amount of pain, they wouldn't be coming back out. Before she could object further, Jason bound her hands behind her back, once again making use of the hook to latch it to the underside of the seat.

"What are you going to do?" Sara asked, the first hint of worry in her tone. This pleased Jason -- this was how she should be reacting.

"Well I'm going to have a little fun searching," Jason said.

He walked over to her bureau and began rifling through the drawers. The top drawer, as he suspected, was nothing but her socks and panties.