He had never before felt such trepidation about entering a taxicab. The cab ride, he knew, would be short and uneventful. However, it marked the end of a long journey and a rendezvous with reality -- where years of fantasies would turn into real experience. He worried that the experience would not match the fantasy. He worried that, after all the fantasy, he would not like the experience or, worse, that he would prove to be inadequate. The butterflies in his stomach became more restless as he settled into the cab's seat. Though the weather was cold, he felt almost ready to break into a sweat.
He felt he'd been hardwired from birth for BDSM, but the realization had taken years. As a boy, he'd always been attracted to punishment and torture scenes in movies and books. As a teenager, he'd fantasized about being erotically tortured by beautiful women. He had concluded, however, that he probably was the only person on Earth who felt such an attraction or had such fantasies, and never spoke about them to anyone.
With the advent of the Internet, that changed. He stumbled upon the Usenet group "alt.sex.bondage" in its early days, when the discussions were lively, informative, and friendly, and the spammers had not yet arrived. Reading that group, he was startled to realize that not only did others share the kind of fantasies he'd had, but they actually did such things to each other. He wasn't alone on the planet!
As the World Wide Web evolved, he joined BDSM sites and read voraciously about all aspects of the scene. He learned about the common tools and practices of the dungeon. And all along, he knew instinctively that his place was on the cross, or the bench, or otherwise positioned to receive the torments.
With his newfound knowledge, he practiced giving himself pain, and found that he could not only tolerate, but enjoy, what he considered reasonably intense play. He could feel endorphins begin to dull the pain and provide a slight high. It took a long time, however, before he decided to take the next step and actually allow someone else to inflict the pain.
That time had arrived. The cab was taking him to a dungeon where he would meet a Domme who'd agreed to play with him. The thought nearly overwhelmed him. He had decided to do his first scene in a large dungeon in a city he was scheduled to visit. He'd contacted the Domme online before his trip. She was a member and regular attendee of the dungeon, and after a few emails and online chats, had suggested they meet at the dungeon. As the cab wound through the streets, he still found it difficult to believe this was actually happening.
He also was filled with questions and apprehensions. What would the place be like? Would the people be friendly? Would the Domme actually show up? Would she still want to play with him? Would he have the guts to actually do the scene? Would he like receiving pain inflicted by someone else? And would he be able to endure or would he wimp out early and embarrass himself?
As the cab drew closer to the dungeon, he tried to put aside all these questions and steel himself to walk in and go through with the rendezvous. He told himself that, after all the years of reading and fantasizing, he had to learn, once and for all, what the real experience was like. He was determined, but the butterflies still stirred in his stomach.
The cab arrived at the address. He paid the driver and got out. The building was a warehouse-style structure in a business/industrial part of the city. Recalling the instructions on the club's Web site, he walked toward the rear, and found the door marked with a small, discreet label. Entering, he met a staffer and checked in. The staffer, a friendly male, welcomed him and struck up a conversation, putting the visitor a bit more at ease.
Always the punctual type, he was one of the first to arrive for the evening. Quickly scanning the room, he saw no one in the small crowd who resembled the Domme with whom he'd been corresponding. He took the opportunity to walk around and look. The club was a single large room, with a play area, a social area with couches and chairs, and a bar, where soft drinks and snacks were available. Somewhat self-consciously, he ventured into the empty play area.
There, for the first time, he saw in person the dungeon furniture he'd read about and seen in a multitude of photos. He recognized it all, but felt slightly intimidated in its presence. Slowly walking from piece to piece, he touched the wood, the chains, the leather, of the crosses, benches, tables, frames, and other items. He noted, again with some self-consciousness, that all the items were easily viewable from the bar and the social area. He realized that if he played on any of this equipment, he would be in full view of everyone present. The thought gave him some pause, but he gradually adjusted to the idea.
A few people began to arrive, but still none resembled the Domme. He joined a couple of brief conversations, then resumed his examination of the play area and the equipment. No one was playing yet, but a few were socializing. He focused on reinforcing his determination to actually put himself on display in this room for the scene he'd agreed to do.
After a wait that seemed much longer than it was, a pair of women entered, greeted the door clerk, and made their way to the bar, where most of the small crowd had gathered. Taking seats, they chatted with the staff, and obviously were familiar faces in the dungeon. One of them definitely looked like the Domme, and after a few minutes, he heard her introduce herself to someone at the bar, confirming the fact. She already was engaged in conversation, and he was reluctant to interrupt, instead trying to catch her eye from the side.
When that didn't work, he summoned his courage, walked to the bar, and joined the group in conversation. One of them was the staff member who'd checked him in, who began to introduce him to the rest. When he was introduced to the Domme, he identified himself as the one with whom she'd been messaging about playing. She greeted him with a friendly smile and began chatting.
After a few minutes, she asked him to come aside for a more private conversation, and he followed her to a quiet area. There, she questioned him about his expectations for the potential scene, and his limits. The dialogue was friendly and unhurried, and after covering the essentials of the play, she concluded with, "Do you still want to play with me?"
He realized this was it -- his last chance to bail out. With momentary hesitation and a slight gulp, he answered, "Yes." The butterflies in his stomach were in full flight.
With this, he accompanied her to her car to retrieve her toybag. Bringing it back into the dungeon, she placed it on a table in the play area. Undoubtedly sensing his nervousness, she continued the friendly, lighthearted conversation, giving a description of each toy and what she liked about it as she removed it from the bag. She had a very diverse and impressive collection of pain-inflicting implements. After a few minutes, he found himself considerably calmed, and much more comfortable with the idea of playing.
His final psychological barrier came from the fact that no one else was yet playing. He'd expected that his scene would be one of many, giving him some anonymity, not the only show in the house. As the last toys came out of the bag, the Domme pointed to a nearby St. Andrew's cross, indicating that it would be the station for their scene. They discussed some final details, then he went to the restroom. Emerging from the restroom, he noticed to his great relief that another scene had begun at the other end of the room -- an extremely good-looking young woman was naked, restrained, and beginning to be flogged by her Dom.
He approached the table where the Domme waited, with her toys laid out and ready. She nodded. It was time for him to strip.
This was another prospect that had made him pause when contemplating the evening. He was not ashamed of his body -- in fact, the opposite was true. An avid amateur athlete, he was proud of his fitness and quite comfortable exercising in minimal clothing. However, the dungeon was a new and unfamiliar environment, and almost everyone else was clothed. Also, of course, he would not retain even the minimal clothing in which he normally exercised. He had decided before departing for the dungeon that he was going to do the scene, so had prepared himself for the moment when he would strip. It helped greatly that the other scene had begun, with the young lady already naked before the crowd. In as matter-of-fact a manner as he could muster, he methodically removed his clothing and stowed all the items neatly beneath the table.
That done, he stood naked before the Domme. He tried to ignore the feeling that every pair of eyes in the room was fixed on him. She held a pair of leather wrist cuffs, and he held out his arms. She placed the cuffs on him and buckled them, testing them and asking to make sure they were not too tight. When the cuffs were securely fastened, he felt to his surprise that the feeling of nakedness diminished greatly. It seemed that the cuffs made his nudity feel somehow more normal.
She gestured toward the cross and they walked together to it. She attached his cuffs to chains hanging from the top arms of the cross. Now, for the first time, he truly was in the position he'd imagined for so long -- naked, restrained, and helpless before a Domme equipped with implements of torture. He breathed deeply.
This, he realized, was the moment of truth. The first blow, he was convinced, would tell him if he really liked BDSM. The fantasies of years hung in the balance.
He would, however, have to wait just a bit longer. The Domme donned a pair of fur-covered gloves and began to gently stroke his body. Speaking softly and reassuringly, she calmed him with her voice and the exquisite touch of the fur. As she covered his body with the feathery strokes, he felt himself relaxing and becoming glad to be naked.
She finished with the gloves, replaced them on the table, and returned with a pair of nipple clamps on a chain. With a smile, she secured the clamps to his nipples. He'd used clamps on them himself, so this was a familiar feeling. She watched his reaction, and when he accepted the clamping without protest, gave him a friendly rub on the shoulders.
She then returned to the table. Now, he knew, she would choose an implement and deliver the fateful first stroke. She walked directly behind him and instructed him to slightly reposition his feet and adjust his stance to present his butt for her. He complied, then waited.
The crucial moment had arrived.. He forced himself to keep his gaze straight forward. He felt as if every nerve in his body was twitching with anticipation. He heard her move, and sensed her presence behind him. From the slight swishing sound as she returned from the table, he presumed she had chosen one of her floggers to start the scene.
With a distinct crack, the leather tails struck his ass. The sound arrived before the sensation. When the impact registered on his skin, he summoned all his consciousness to analyze how it felt.
