Finding Mr. Wright

"And so I was scared. Scared of my own sexual hunger, which felt so secretive and uncharted."

--Caroline Knapp

CHAPTER 06

I took Aaron's extended arm like I have so many times tonight, and we left the shibari room behind. From there, he took me to other rooms to show them to me, even though they were all unoccupied. The Grey Room was really just a meeting room for anyone interested in a homosexual or bisexual encounter. The lights were on, but again, no one was there. The room consisted mostly of large sofas arranged in a circle, with some smaller love seats scattered about the room. Aaron told me that people usually just meet here, then move on to the private rooms, though some will stay here and engage in activities for those who like to watch or be watched.

From that area, we went to the Pink Room, which was for roleplaying as 'adult babies.' It, too, was unoccupied, but as Aaron explained, it was for people who liked to pretend or role-play as a baby, or as a mother or babysitter to those babies. The room was decorated like a nursery, though the typical baby furniture was enlarged to accommodate adult-sized babies. I didn't really comprehend the enjoyment in this. Aaron said he never engaged in this type of activity, but those he talked to like the nurturing aspect of that type of play, though it wasn't something that he was interested in at all.

Another room Aaron told me about, but that we didn't see, was the Green Room. This room was for pet and pony play. I had read about pony play, and this was a a unique activity all to itself. Aaron confirmed what I remembered, that this activity was about dehumanizing the person into an animal, be it a pony or horse for service, or a dog or puppy for play. If someone was a pony, it was all about the service, and that was reflected in transporting their owner, either carrying them or pulling them in a carriage of sorts. If it was puppy play, it could be sexual, from the use of the puppy's tongue on parts of the owner's body, to the owner using the puppy as a sexual partner. Though this was a room that did garner some use, Aaron thought it wasn't worth viewing, at least not tonight. I agreed.

Aaron then took me to the third floor to show me the private rooms. These were smaller than the other rooms I saw but were all well-furnished. No one was in any of the rooms we entered, but a few were locked and in use, so of course we didn't evev try to go in. What was interesting here was that each room had a different theme. One was an office with a couch. Another was styled as a hotel room. Yet another was a doctor's office, complete with examining table. One I thought was funny was an adult movie rental store, with a small viewing booth. There were also several smaller private rooms designed just for bondage and discipline, like hotel rooms but with the special BDSM furniture. Aaron explained as we walked and observed them all that they were for different encounters or role-play scenarios, depending on what the couples agreed should happen that evening.

As we moved on, Aaron got a little quiet. Down one hall, he stopped and turned to me. "Elizabeth." He paused. "I should bring you to the Black Room, but I'm a bit hesitant. I don't want you to be scared. Remember, this is the room for more harsh bondage and discipline. What happens in there can look like torture and abuse. But please believe me, it isn't. The things we do in there are worked out between the participants long in advance and with everyone's thorough understanding of what will happen and who will be subjected to what. We work up to the harsher things, never starting off here with anyone. For the submissive subject, I've heard that the experience is incredible to all the senses and can result in a level of pleasure that's almost ... unimaginable."

Aaron let that sink in. I wasn't sure I was ready for this, for seeing something this extreme, and I'm sure that was reflected in my expression. Aaron addressed me again, "Before we go, I want to make sure you can handle this. This isn't for the faint-hearted. Do you want to see this?"

After a few moments' hesitation, I responded, "I think so," then I became more resolute, gathering my strength. "No, I know so. I can handle this." He nodded and led me on. I steeled myself as we moved on.

We came to a room with a solid black double door, coated in padded black leather, riveted, like a fancy couch. He opened one of the doors and we entered. The black room was large and dark, but like the red room, there were spotlights highlighting different areas. There were only two people here, both with their backs to us so I couldn't see them or tell who they were. One was an auburn--haired woman with her hair up in a bun. Her hands were tied over her head with a rope that pulled them upward, stretching out her body. The rope was attached to a ring on a post.

Unlike most of the other females being escorted in the manor tonight, she was not fully nude. Her back was open, as was her rear, but there were leather straps around her waist and shoulders. It looked like an outfit that consisted of only leather straps of various widths, but from this angle I couldn't be sure. What was immediately noticeable, though was that her back and rear end were already bright red from her punishment.

The man behind her had his shirt pulled off, but still tucked into his trousers, as if he had unbuttoned his shirt, pulled his arms out of his sleeves, and just let it dangle. There was sweat beading between his shoulders. In his hand was a flogger, and he was winding up to swing it.

When he struck, it was not the simple little swings like I had seen in the red room. This was a strong, forceful blow, coming down across her back. The woman grunted as her back recoiled from the impact. He raised his arm and the flogger came down again, this time across her butt. She grunted and gasped this time as her body shook from the impact, sending ripples across her butt and down her legs.

As I watched, I actually winced with each strike, sensing and feeling each strike as they came down on the unknown woman. I closed my eyes and turned inward, against Aaron, gripping his arm. By the time I opened my eyes again, the man had stopped.

He stepped to his side, tossing the flogger away. He reached toward the wall and grabbed something I couldn't see. He returned behind the woman and rubbed her back and rear with his hand, lightly touching her. He moved his other hand up and draped the thing in his hand over her shoulder, letting her feel it. As I heard her intake of breath, I realized what he held ... a bull whip.

He stepped backward, further away than he stood before. He wound his arm up and swung the whip, but it didn't hit her. Instead, it struck the ground, with the telltale crack sound that only a whip like this can make. She gasped. Her breathing was obvious and short. He swung it around a few more times, even letting it fall softly against her so she could feel it. I saw her fingers tighten around the rope that held her. She was already bracing herself.

He stood there, letting the whip dangle at his side. He waited, unmoving. She continued to breathe, waiting in anticipation. She could wait no longer and shouted out, "Do it!"

He did. The whip cracked as it came down across her back. She cried out, not quite a scream, more like an instant shriek of pain. He waited and let her body recover. I could already see a red line appearing on her back where the whip had dug into her flesh.

He moved his arm again and let the whip fall this time across her butt with another resounding 'crack.' She winced and again, there was a strong intake of her breath, but no shriek this time. The sting was obvious, and again you could see the ripples of the strike radiate through her skin on her bottom. He waited again for her to calm before he raised the whip again.

This time he struck twice in rapid succession. Unable to contain herself, the woman let out a loud shriek, almost rising to a full scream, as the whip came down across her back with the first blow. The second strike was again across her back, but slightly lower, and she let out a louder shriek followed by a deep, sustained grunt. I winced for her and closed my eyes. As I opened them, he was walking up to her as she was breathing heavily now. He felt the marks now appearing on her back. She jumped at his touch.

He backed off again and prepared for another. He struck her bottom again, causing her to call out and yelp. He struck again. This time she cried out, unable to contain it any longer, screaming, almost crying with her yell. Her legs buckled a bit and I could see she was dangling from the rope, her arms stretched tight above her head.

This continued further. He continued to strike once, twice, sometimes even three times before stopping and measuring his handiwork. I lost count of the number of times she took the whip. Across her back, across her butt, even across her thighs. The red marks continued to grow. She was squealing, screaming with each hit, hollering "No!" and even devolving into a steady sob. He finally stopped as she dangled from the rope. I thought she might be unconscious.

I couldn't tell exactly why it was that he stopped. Maybe it was some prearranged number of lashes with the whip, or perhaps some time limit, or other prearranged point. Maybe there was some inaudible signal from her, or maybe he felt that she had enough. I had no idea how many times she was struck with the whip. I empathized with her, but not like in the red room. I couldn't see how she could take that, or why she would even want to. The sting of one lash would be enough to make me stop it right then and there, or never even let one happen to begin with. Why she would want that I could not understand.

I was drawn from my introspection when she moved and stood again on her own. Her legs were weak and there were multiple marks across her body, criss-crossing at different points. As she stood, the man reached something on the wall and untied it, loosening the rope as her hands came down and fell in front of her. The man walked up to her as I focused on all the red marks, some now turning a deep purple as the blood rushed into them. He untied her hands and she grabbed her wrists and rubbed them. At that point, she turned around so we could see her face. I gasped out loud. It was Brooke!

She took no notice of Aaron and I, though. She struggled to stand as her legs regained their strength. The man, who I now really noticed for the first time, I recognized as V. He moved her to an odd shaped bench, with a small, rectangular, padded top and wider legs, almost like a sawhorse table. He bent her over this bench so that she was facing us, stomach against the bench, her back in the air, her legs straight and down at the sides. She had a dazed look on her face and her eyes were tearing, though she wasn't actively crying. She still looked strikingly beautiful, especially so in that very vulnerable position.

As Brooke lay on the bench, V fastened her arms down on each side of her, extending them almost to the floor. He then attached her legs to the edges of the bench at the bottom, both her arms and legs spread apart. V then walked around to the front of her and stood by her face, with his back to us. He unbuckled his pants and pulled them open. Though we couldn't see what he was doing because of the angle, it was fairly obvious. He had pulled himself out of his pants and was in her mouth.

The angle of her head and the movements of his body indicated what what happening, or rather, what she was doing to him. He wasn't moving, he was staying still, but her head was moving back and forth. I could hear the wet noises as her lips moved on him and she took him in and out of her mouth. Earlier in the night, I had watched two people in person, in front of me, having sex. Now for the first time, I was watching a woman perform oral sex, and this right after she had been severely whipped. To be able to do that and to give pleasure to someone after enduring such pain was a paradox I didn't understand.

After a few minutes, V pulled away and moved around Brooke. I could see V's erection as he walked, but that is not what really garnered my attention. Instead, it was Brooke's face, and what I saw surprised me. I expected to see the face of a woman who was hurt, beaten down, defeated. Instead, she looked strong, sure of herself, even excited and aroused.

Brooke was breathing heavily. It was then that I realized that V had gone around her and moved to her rear. I could see V's erection in front of him now and he was very well endowed. He rubbed himself up and down over her backside and then down between her legs. With a quick thrust he pushed himself inside her. She gasped and let out a soft moan, and the look on her face was unlike anything I had ever seen. She was in pure bliss.

I expected Aaron to tell us it was time to get up and move on, but he didn't say a word. I realized then that we were going to sit there and watch until they completed what they were doing. I looked on at that point with more interest, directly at Brooke, as her body moved and rocked with each of V's thrusts. He would slow at times, then speed up. He would pull out and rub himself on her, over her bottom, only to plunge himself back into her with a more forceful thrust. He was bringing her higher and higher and closer and closer. Yet just when it appeared that she was about to go over the top, he would stop or slow, and the look of frustration on her face was evident.

One time he stopped and moved around back to the front, going back into her mouth, and she resumed what she had done before with even more passion and fervor. He would move his hips in unison with her mouth, holding her head or her jaw, or even grasping her under her throat. I couldn't really see exactly what was going on due to the angle of our view, but it wasn't hard to imagine.

While he did this, V stripped off his pants while she kept him in her mouth. His body was very tight and fit and he obviously worked out regularly. He had an incredible physique, as stocky as he was. He was completely naked at this point, and I definitely admired his form.

He continued using her mouth for a few more minutes, then moved around to her rear. He entered her again and continued his building up of her climax, bringing her almost to the point of orgasm, then slowing and backing down. I could feel my own arousal rising as he thrust into Brooke, and each time he subsided I did as well, and each time he resumed, it built up in me again. This arousal in me wasn't quite as intense as it was earlier, but it was something with which I was intensely and intimately aware. Yet, luckily, after what seemed an interminable time, when I thought I might not even be able to observe any more, V asked her if she was ready. Brooke nodded her head vigorously and let out a long sensual, "oh ... yes ... please!" When she did, he started again harder and faster, faster than ever before. Her intermittent moans turned into one long continuous moan, almost a squeal, and her orgasm came over her almost the same time that V thrust once into her hard and deep, then just holding himself there, ejaculating into her.

Brooke's orgasm rocked over her and all of her muscles convulsed and tightened. She strained against her bonds, not so much trying to break free of them, but pulling at the restraints, tightening them, so it helped contain and rein in the overwhelming feeling coursing through her. Her head had been held up, facing us, but as her muscles tightened her head fell forward, her hair tumbling down in front of her, hanging down almost to the floor itself, while small noises came from her mouth. You could tell her teeth were clenched as she let out a long, drawn out, exhausted breath.

As V held her like that, and as her own convulsing orgasm subsided, Brooke's body relaxed, her head hanging even lower, relaxing as well. It looked like she had collapsed. It was obvious she was spent, exhausted not only from the toll the beating took on her body, but also from the hard, sexual arousal, coupled with the ultimate release of all her energy. However, she found enough reserve in herself to lift her head and look right at me.

Up until that point, I thought I was just a spectator, but when Brooke looked at me, in the way she looked at me, I realized I was actually a participant. She had seen me the whole time, and both she and V had been performing for us, for Aaron and me. We weren't simply watching what they were doing, we were an integral part of it. Even though we were not touched physically, and weren't sexually involved ourselves, it was important to them that we were there--that someone, anyone was there--watching, enhancing for them what they were doing.

As this revelation came over me, I felt A moving next to me, as he stood and motioned to me that it was time to go. I stood as well, but I couldn't keep from staring at Brooke. She looked at me with a glance that told me that she was disappointed that we were leaving. Her look of disappointment changed swiftly, though, as she looked at me directly and stared into in my eyes. She gave me a look of recognition and even supplication, her mouth framing silent words seen only by me, saying to me, "thank you."

*****

As we walked out, I gripped Aaron's arm tightly. He again turned to me like outside the Black Room, asking me, "Elizabeth, are you okay?" It didn't have the same degree of concern, as I was more in control of myself this time. Instead, it was more of just a cautionary question to make sure I saw and understood what had just happened.

"I'm fine," I replied, much more collected that I was when I emerged from the Red Room, and I gripped Aaron's arm tightly to let me further know that I was okay. I was still contemplating the degree of what I had just witnessed, and rather than try to say anything to interrupt my contemplation of those events, Aaron remained silent.

We walked back to the first-floor ballroom in silence, stopping at the rest rooms just down the hall. I entered and resisted the urge to splash water in my face. I was still aroused, but it was a different type of arousal. Where the Red Room had a profound effect on me, drawing me in, the Black Room had a deeper draw, something totally beyond my comprehension.

I could understand the light sensations and even small amounts of pain that were inflicted in the Red Room. I had even toyed around with things like that by myself when alone before I was married, but never did it occur to me that someone could want or enjoy something to the degree that I just witnessed with Brooke. No, I always thought anyone who did that was doing it against their will or was being outright abused, or in the least, was being paid money to do it for the satisfaction of the other. How on earth could someone actually want that, or enjoy it? I mulled this over again and again in my mind as I rejoined Aaron outside.

"Better?" he asked, as I emerged.

"I'm good," I responded, "I've certainly seen quite a few things that I don't understand, or don't yet understand."

"That's perfectly normal, especially coming from someone who has never been exposed to this so directly before," he tried to convince me, but I was still unsure. "Let's go to the ballroom and relax. The difficult part of the night is over."

We tool the elevator down and walked back to the ballroom on the first floor. There were fewer people than before, but still a dozen or more seated in various places around the room. Most were only sitting as couples by themselves, but here and there some would get up and get a drink or go to the food table, stopping to talk to others along the way. Aaron and I took a seat near the back.

He started some small talk about the food and drinks, and in general about the night. Most of this I don't remember well, as I was still focused on Brooke and the look on her face and the reaction in her body. We sat and talked about some of the things in the rooms, what I thought of this and that, but nothing about the Black Room. He steered clear of that subject. A couple here and there would come up to us and say "hello" and "welcome," with the Dom introducing himself as whatever his letter designation was. He stood and talked with Aaron for a while as I sat and relaxed, and I again heard the word "exquisite" used to refer to me. It was mostly a blur, as was still lost in my own thoughts about what I had witnessed tonight.