Been a rough week, lots of emotions built up. Nothing serious but frustrations, angriness, sadness. A general feeling of loneliness and negativity overload. She is aware of her state but goes to the dungeon party anyway, thinking a change of scenery for a few hours might do her good.
She walks in, clothing subdued, barefoot, nods or says hellos to the few people she knows and sits at the edge of the crowd, sipping her soda water. She has a great view of both the social area and a few play stations. She breathes in the smells, the sounds, lets the whole atmosphere soaks into her. This party is closer to what she was used to in her youth: scents of sex, fear, leather and sweat... sounds of impacts on skin, laughter, pain and unrestrained and forced orgasms. She relaxes into it all, smiling, feeling a little bit at home in this remote world, actually happy to be there.
Mr. K. is here. Since his brake up with his last partner, he's been at events more, played once in a while, sampling available and willing subs. (Not that many are unwilling!) Always the domly Dom, always the gentleman, he gets and gives what he wants, generously. She's seen the reaction some, both men and women, have towards him. Had that involuntary panty wetting response herself, even as they've become closer friends. She sees that he's here, like the others she knows, and that's about it, not much else registers. She is within herself, absorbing the surrounding vibrations, a bit numbed by the emotions mixed inside her.
The music changes, harder rock with a stronger, more aggressive bass. Sometimes it fits perfectly, and probably does for many here tonight, but it makes her tense, wanting to fight, angry. She suddenly realizes it was a mistake to have come tonight, should just go home, to bed or to her punching bag.
A pair of known warm hands gently touches her shoulders from behind, making her turn.
- Mr. K.-
He keeps both hands on her, calm, immobile, letting her decide to shake him off or not. She relaxes under his touch, even tonight, and lays her head briefly on his arm, consenting to his presence. He bends and kisses her cheek but immediately stands again, not letting it trail, not asking for more; his lips were not yet on her skin and she had moved her head away annoyingly. He comes around and sits in front of her, taking her hands in his while he actually asks if he can. Her almost snappy "why the fuck do you ask" of a response does not make him let go. He just holds her hands, looks at her intensively and breathes calmly. And she sinks in her chair, sorry in her eyes for her words, sorry she almost took it out on him.
They talk a bit. She does not generally do small talk and that's all he seems to be able to get out of her tonight. Her walls are up and solidified, self-preservation he recognizes too well, having the same coping mechanisms himself sometimes. She is making an effort to stay kind but he can see the tumult and angry need to fight in her, as clearly as if it was written on her face in black marker.
He lets her finish her rambling on how a healthy splash of gin in her soda would be good and how she is not getting use to these local rules about booze. Really not like her. Then, squeezing her hands a little and leaning towards her, he softly asks if she trust him. The carelessness of her "yes, obviously" answer makes him pause, but his "good, we are going to play then" reply while getting up still comes out. She starts arguing but he stops her, telling her this is for her only and that if it does not work, she can just stop it, anytime; that it may do her good; and that on the other hand, if she gets out of her head too much (he knows her well after all), he'll take her home and stay with her. In all cases offering safety. She softens at his word, he can see she's touched, and also her internal debate. She quickly acquiesces with a half-smile and a shoulder shrug. Good enough for him, he did not expect a celebratory dance.
He confirms her safeword has not changed and guides her to an available area. She waits while he gets a spanking chair, one high enough for him, and a footstool, and returns to her. As he approaches, she instinctively drops to her knees and raises her arms. Makes him smile, even if she's not really into it she's still herself enough to know her needs. He is pleased and reassured of his decision by it.
