I had no idea what lay ahead of us that night, and to be quite honest, I was nervous as hell. I’d never been to a BDSM club before, and I felt like an unsure toddler on the first day of preschool. I was both excited and terrified. The incredibly strong vodka tonic I drank while getting ready for the evening helped calm my anxieties. As did the tears of laughter as Heather and I adjusted, rather ungracefully I might add, to the restrictions of our upside down corsets.
Once inside the dimly lit dungeon, we were introduced to various people as we stood in a circle of conversation. He appeared to the left of us and pleasantries were exchanged, his English accent sending a shiver down my spine. Feeling like my brain had just been scrambled, I tried to keep up with the chatter around me as I glanced in his direction. I was being studied. I knew he wasn’t quite sure what to think of me and that only made me want to present more of a challenge. But I suddenly felt unusually modest as I looked up into the eyes of the Dom who was peering behind my carefully crafted tough girl facade. And it wasn’t because I was barefoot on the concrete floor, my stilettos in hand because my feet were killing me. It was because this Dom was a sadist with many years of experience in the lifestyle. I could feel his strength, and it left me rattled.
Expressing his disappointment in not having more time to speak with me, his voice alone was enough to scale my walls. But before leaving, he wanted me to know what he knew about me thus far. He said he could clearly read the intelligence written on my face. He could also see the submissive inside of me. He never touched anything but my hand during our conversation that night and he didn’t seem to notice my boobs. For the first time in my life I felt totally submissive. And I liked it.
Then we met Master Cecil, the owner of The Woodshed, and he was gracious enough to spend some time answering our questions. Okay, Heather’s questions. I just stood there and watched her go. She was so cute and bubbly as she asked one after another. Yeah, I said it. She was bubbly. And when Master Cecil asked if she would like to do a rope scene, I thought she would explode in all directions like a can of multicolored confetti.
She stood barefoot in front of me, gathering her hair at the back of her head in a loose knot as we attempted to remove the black corset that accentuated her perfect shape. It was tightly laced and almost as difficult to take off as it was to put on. The center hook was stuck and no matter how hard I pushed on my soulmateclone’s ribcage, it didn’t budge. Bones are only meant to bend so much, and like a knight in black leather, Master Cecil came to our rescue. Okay, so it was denim and he was shirtless, but he still came to our rescue, sorta. He pushed and he tugged and in the end, he couldn’t free her either. I couldn’t help but giggle at the irony.
Master Cecil assured me that Heather would be safe and that there would be no violence. I had no reason to doubt him. He told me that I should stay near, and he would tell me exactly what I would need to do for her aftercare. I took every word he said and held it close.
I sat down very carefully on a couch a few feet away, watching closely as Heather walked naked into the beckoning arms of Master Cecil. I tried to get comfortable, but it was an impossible task. It wasn’t nerves or anxiety that kept me sitting upright, my posture appearing practiced and perfect. It was the steel boned corset that prevented me from sinking into the cozy couch the way I wanted. Oh, I tried. But I couldn’t bend and I couldn’t breathe, so I sat perched on the edge with my tits up to my chin.
I couldn’t hear Master Cecil’s voice when I watched the rope slide across Heather’s creamy skin as if it had a mind of its own. They were words meant only for her, but her dreamy smile told me more than words ever could. It told me that even if her eyes had been open, she wouldn’t have seen anything around her. She wouldn’t have seen the Domme’s smile as she whipped her boy with a crop a few feet away. And she wouldn’t have seen the two subs bent over a table across the dungeon, holding onto each other as they were flogged. All she could do was feel. And as I watched the serenity light up her face and listened to her sounds of pleasure as Master Cecil pushed his thumb into her thigh, I felt envy. I wanted that feeling of peace for myself. I just didn’t realize how much until that moment.
I witnessed Heather’s first scene in a public dungeon with a Dom who was, in my opinion, a true Dom, a respectful Dom. And it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Their chemistry was electrifying, and judging from the reaction of others in the room, I wasn’t the only one who felt it. That scene was significant in many ways, but the thing that struck home with me was that damage was being undone. I could tell Heather a million times over (and I have) that the spark would surface again between her and a new Dom. But I knew that until she actually felt that spark for herself, my words were just that; words. I was lucky enough to be there when that spark ignited.
When the scene with Master Cecil ended and Heather and I had spent some time sitting on the couch, I helped her re-dress, sort of. We thanked everyone for a fantastic night, gave lots of hugs and made our way through the still crowded parking lot of The Woodshed with shoes and corset in hand. I couldn’t stand another second in mine and there was no way in hell I was driving home with Frankenstein arms. Once in a night was more than enough. Besides, I had an itch that was driving me nuts. Hoping I could slip out of it easily, Heather began to unlace it only to realize I had the same issue she did. The center hook was stuck. We struggled and pushed until it finally popped free. And as I discarded my purple and black brocade corset, my boobs dropped back down to where they belonged. I bent over forward because I could, and naked from the waist up in a parking lot, I took the first deep breath in hours.
It was the end of a long night and I was happy. I was happy that Heather and I had the opportunity to visit our first BDSM club together. It was an experience I wouldn’t have wanted to share with anyone else. I was downright giddy that we were forging new friendships with the amazing people we’d met. People who will become my kinky support system in the BDSM community as I explore my submissive desires. But I was sad too. I was sad that Heather would be leaving me in less than four hours. She is my soulmateclone and we should never be apart. It’s a proven fact. I was also hungry for a cheeseburger and a giant coke. Because regardless of any questionable behavior we may exhibit at times (VAGINA!), we always keep it classy.
It’s so interesting reading your point of view. Even though you weren’t involved in the scene Heather was in, you had just as many emotional/psychological changes and experiences as she did. Two very different experiences, but very moving for both of you.
Your soulmateclone love for Heather really shows in your writing, too!
And, hellooooo English accent! Yum!
It was an amazing experience, Brittany. I’m so happy I was able to witness it. And I do love my soulmateclone! Ah yes, the accent…
What an incredible experience to share. I’m envious too: both of the scene and the relationship you have. That said, getting to share in it through your writing is like being given an unexpected gift – I love it! xox
Thank you, Anna! The emotions that night were powerful to say the least.
A lovely recollection of a lovely evening. So now inquiring minds want to know – will you be returning solo looking for that English Dom?
I was just wondering the same thing!!!
I don’t need to return to the club for that. I know where to find him.
Question is…. are you going to or not?
I’m still in contemplation mode. There are so many unanswered questions.
I literally almost peed myself with the last three sentences.
That’s good, right? RIGHT?
Absolutely!!
[...] lots of booze. And upside down corsets, power ballads, and videos of my boyfriend’s cock. Oh, and dungeons and cheeseburgers, because we’re fucking [...]