She hasn't been out to a club, hasn't played in public in any way, for a very long time. She fidgets in the car seat as they pull into the car park, pulling down the clingy faux leather dress to try to get it vaguely somewhere near her knees. It catches on the pull-up stockings a little and won't budge. She can feel it sliding over the flesh of her breasts where a light sheen of sweat has lubricated her. She's dressed to order, as she remembers having done so many times in the past, but isn't sure how she feels about following dress-code instructions again. There is something tired and worn about the whole kink scene. Even if adjusting her cleavage - just so - had made her smile and feel good about herself.
She feels like she's watching a once very much repeat-watch movie, but it just doesn't quite have the same appeal anymore. She smiles as she recalls the saying of a very experienced ex of hers, "Another fucking random." Watch, rewind, repeat. But the familiarity and knowledge of the necessary steps and hoops, the different scenes unfolding as they need to, fills her with no sense of anticipation or excitement. She feels tired, frankly, and wishes all of a sudden to be curled up at home in bed with her book.
The man next to her, in sharp contrast, can barely contain himself. This is all new to him, the kink, the dominance and submission, the prospect of attending an event and see others practice their kink, see others have sex even, is so out of his comfort zone and usual range of experiences that the excitement emanating from him is palpable. Fizzy and overflowing. Jade feels a curious mix of pleasure that she's doing this for him, to introduce him to this, and fatigue at the mismatch of his enthusiasm and her disinterest. This makes her feel guilty. She recalls lines from a recent film: "Please don't feel you need to do this out of obligation." "It's the only reason I ever do anything," responds the female character. Jade had burst into spontaneous laughter at the veracity of that female comment. She did a lot of things out of obligation nowadays. Tim turns to her and says, "Shall we?"
"Sure," she smiles at him. It wasn't really that hard to remember her first outings on the public scene. And she did like this bloke. The submissive in her did want to please him, make him happy. He was giving her something of what she wanted and needed. The companionship and his delight in her open sexuality made for good sex, which was improving too. Jade made a real effort to adjust her mental state, try to pretend this was all shiny and exciting and new. And scary and exhibitionist, the things in the early days which had made her wet in anticipation days before the actual event itself.
As they entered the building, the low thrum and pulsing boom of the music in the main space filtered through the entrance hall and up through her heels. To her surprise she felt a surge of adrenaline and interest. This felt welcoming and familiar. Tim was presenting their IDs and payment. He'd insisted that he would execute every aspect of the evening. His hand on the small of her back ushered her into the main space. He'd been given a key to a locker and wanted to deposit their things, then wander and take it all in.
It was strange to see him back in that kid-in-candy-store space he'd started in when they met six months ago. He'd largely grown into his own brand of dominant to her submissive, but this seemed to be taking her back to those early days of earnest attempts, where he wanted to forge ahead and explore, doing anything and everything to get it right and give her what he knew she wanted. She had had to tell him to slow down, that there was no need to rush, and that it simply didn't work to call her a slut from the get-go and tell her how much he wanted to dominate her. Her gut instinct about his intelligence and admissions of Ds fantasies, of doing nasty stuff to nice girls, had tipped her from a "no, don't think so, thanks" to a tentative, "Okay, we'll give it a go, but no promises".
Now, she found she mostly didn't need to guide him, or have those debrief sessions he had insisted on after every meet. He had always wanted to know what he was getting right, but was always more interested in what he was doing wrong. On one occasion, he'd lost his temper with her, "For fuck's sake, Jade, you aren't allowed to be coy about this and expect me to know what to do and say. I want to learn, but the corollary of that is that you have to want to teach me. For both our benefits. You know damn well I pick things up fast, that I'm doing this so we both get to fuck and be fucked as we want to. If I'm using the wrong words, at the wrong time, in the wrong way - fuck knows I know what to do physically to rock your world now - but you have to help me get the tone right, babe. I haven't had the permission to do this before. You're going to stop it being the best it can be if you don't give a little more here."
"Fine, sorry," she'd mumbled, and been stunned when he slapped her face. Not overly hard, but enough to make her head jerk to the side, to make her inhale sharply, make her glare at him. The funny thing was, he'd glared right back. Firm and implacable. Not trying to play a role now, just being him, in a dynamic with her, reciprocal and reflecting each other. Something had shifted that day. She'd felt it, and he'd played it out perfectly.
As she had stood naked in front of him, seething at the shock, he'd taken her hair in his left hand, never losing eye contact, and said, "Not fine, and I don't need an apology. Knees, now." He'd applied increasing pressure on her hair, pulling her down, and she'd sunk to her knees to be confronted by his full erection. He hadn't said a word further. Just waited. But when she'd leaned forward a little to attempt to take him in her mouth, he'd pulled back against her head. "Ask. Nicely." And for the first time ever in their interaction, she'd felt her cunt pulse and ooze liquid, from his words only, not what he was physically doing to her with his cock or hands. What followed was him at his most measured and calm. He just did what he wanted and guided her as he wanted her. He hadn't let her cum as he normally did, hadn't played with her clit, or given her oral, had even limited her cock-sucking. He'd just fucked her, fingered her, toyed with her, and only when he was buried to the hilt in her cunt, kneeling behind her on the floor, listening to her mewl "please" repeatedly, her hair tangled and mussed, her face pink and sweaty, his hands gripping her hips, scratching her back, pulling her hair, only then did he lean forward and ask her what she wanted.
"I want to cum, please, now, I want to cum," she'd managed, out of breath, tired and so on the edge, but he hadn't pushed her hard enough that she couldn't help herself. Every time she got close, he'd back off. It wouldn't have worked if they hadn't been fucking every other day. She'd not have been able to help herself if he hadn't been inside her for some time. She knew that, and she had just the presence of mind to wonder if he knew that too. He knew her body well now. "Please, what?" he asked her. She'd felt her cunt contract tightly around his cock at that.
