New Orleans is a city made for trouble — all kinds — and I got into a lot of it there. I was out dancing at the Rock N’ Bowl (a musical venue – slash – bowling alley, and a classy joint if ever there was one) on a school night, and I mentioned to my dance partner that I’d recently seen a pro-domme at Colette, a swinger’s club in the central business district. He kept dancing and said, “Reaaallllly?” in a Cheshire Cat voice. “Are you into kink?” I told him that I really liked the experience and would be interested in experimenting more (though to be honest, I’d been playing since high school). A few days later, I received a text from him asking if I’d like to come over because he “had a few things to show me.” Intrigued, I told him I was free the next night.
I knocked on his door and was invited in. The lighting was dim and he welcomed me warmly, then showed me around his apartment. We finally got to his bedroom, where he made a dramatic pause before flinging the door open to reveal a whole plethora of toys spread out on his bed. Paddles, ropes, gags, floggers… it was a beautiful array, carefully laid out for my eyes to wonder at. I picked up several items, just touching them to get a feel for the different texture and intensity of each toy. I’m sure I looked like a kid in a candy shop. “Wanna play?” he asked with a mischievous grin. HELL YES, I wanted to play. He told me that he was a lifestyle dom and he’d been doing this for a long time. I had little idea what to expect, but I was So. Excited.
He told me to strip down to my underwear; I willingly complied. There was no negotiation, no safe words mentioned, no asking for consent. I now know that it was shitty on his part as the experienced one not to ask about limits or discuss safety with me, just as it was poor judgment on my part not to ask about safety, and if I knew then what I know now, I would have had a conversation with him first. But it was also fucking hot that he just told me what to do.*
He put a blindfold around my head and told me to get on my knees. Once there, he tied my arms together behind my back (my forearms overlapping each other horizontally behind me), looped the rope through a ring in the ceiling, and brought it down to tie my ankles together in kind of a modified hogtie.
Once I was (almost) immobile, he began to alternate between sensual teasing and light impact play, making me ask for more. He pulled my hair and called me foul names, and I was so turned on. I hadn’t been physically attracted to him before that night, but as he slid his hands over me and hit me in all the right places with conviction, I was desperate to have him inside of me. “Fuck me,” I whispered. “I didn’t hear you,” he said in a commanding tone. “Speak up.” “Please fuck me,” I repeated. “What did you say?” he asked. “God, please fuck me,” I begged. “Not tonight,” he said, and started undoing the ropes.
I got dressed in an elated daze, wondering what the fuck just happened. We hugged goodbye, and I left his apartment flushed and buoyant. He moved to Texas shortly thereafter, so I never did get a chance to play with him again, but he left me with a fierce desire for the intense combination of pain and pleasure that I’ve been enjoying ever since.
*Dear Dominants: This story is not meant to encourage you to play without negotiation; while nothing bad happened in this case, it could have. PLEASE discuss safety with your subs before playing!