The Shoebox

Chapter 5 - The Eizenspritzer Society

Then it happened! I felt a bolt of lighting explode from my clitoris and shoot down my legs into my toes and up my spine and into my brain. My body shook as if I were being electrocuted. I heard the wail of my disembodied voice echo through the room and then . . . darkness. [Chapter 4.]

The setting sun was dipping below the horizon as we motored westbound on our way to the Starlight Lounge in Sid's classic 1948 Mercedes 500 SEL. Sid was concentrating on his driving, trying to avoid the constant stream of trucks that barreled passed us on the left heading for the interior of the country.

I thought back to our discussions yesterday and how anxious Sid was to attend this meeting. No doubt the announcements at the restaurant had piqued his interest in the Eizenspritzer Society. He had finally convinced me that we should attend; that it would help my research on the Powell case and perhaps give me a point of reference when and if I finally met with Beth Powell.

I was now having second thoughts about acquiescing to Sid's suggestion. I could feel a knot tightening in my stomach from the anxiety of actually attending a meeting of a BDSM society. Would anyone recognize us? What would they think; that Sid and I are into bondage? Good Lord, why did I allow Sid to push me into this?

The sex, that's why! I thought back to our very uncharacteristic sexual encounter in my office right after Joe Powell left. My God, was that us? I turned to look at him. Nearly fifty-six years old, thinning hair, slightly overweight, a well respected doctor and pillar of our community. Could it have been this man that seduced me in my own office, who made passionate love to me on my own desk in broad daylight? I shook my head as I looked at him with a thin puzzled smile.

Sid glanced my way as he gripped the wheel of his classic car, trying to keep it in the right lane and out of harm's way.

"What . .? A penny for your thoughts!" Sid smiled at me with a quizzical smile trying to keep his eyes on the road.

"Nothing, nothing. I was just thinking."

"Thinking of what? Tell the doctor Zu-Zu!"

"Just thinking of how you are a dirty old man and a pervert, that's all!"

"Me? I beg your pardon?"

Sid smirked at me with a sidelong glance as a tandem trailer whizzed by us in the left lane.

"It takes two to tango, Dr. Sharp. The last time you were strong-armed into doing something, you were twelve years old, so don't give me that load of bull . . ."

"Keep your eyes on the road Sidney! I don't want you to miss the exit and end up driving half-way across Pennsylvania. I can see that your mind isn't on your driving tonight."

"Yes, Miss Daisy." Sid replied as he smirked and looked straight ahead.

I looked down at my black dress. I must have spent two hours going through my closet trying to decide what one wears to a BDSM "meet and greet". I was definitely not going to wear anything trashy or provocative, but at the same time I would stick out like a sore thumb if I chose anything too conservative. We both settled on basic black. At Sid's suggestion I wore a black ribbon around my neck with a silver broach. Not quite a collar, but suggestive. I actually thought it was a clever touch. Although the dress I picked went down to the floor, it was flared below the waist and flowed elegantly while the top clung tightly. My black boots were a given. The outfit would have to do!

"Isn't this the exit?"

Sid smoothly maneuvered the classic car onto the off-ramp of the interstate and headed toward the Starlight Lounge. I was hoping to have more time during the trip to think but I had forgotten how close it was.

Sid pulled up to the portico and a young Hispanic man opened my door. Reluctantly, Sid gave up his classic car to the young man, who let gravel fly as he left us standing at the threshold to the stately old building.

The Starlight was probably built sometime in the 1950's and renovated in the 1970's. It was elegant but had definitely seen better days. It was once a premier location for local weddings, but now its main function was to cater to local organizations looking for an inexpensive place to meet. The signs outside were a testament to its pedestrian status: the Kiwanis, the Shriners, the Rotary Club, even the Knights of Columbus met here at least one day a month - as did the Eizenspritzer Society! Only in America!

Sid took my arm and we walked up the steps and into the dimly lit entrance foyer.

"Yes, Madame, Sir. Can I help you?"

I cringed as Sid asked the Maitre'd for the Eizenspritzer Society's meeting room. I studied his expression carefully - he didn't bat an eye. One would have thought that we asked him where the Girl Scouts were meeting!

"Of course, sir, to your left and up the stairs to the Starlight Room." he intoned impassively pointing to a wide stairway whose murky carpet was in need of replacement.

As we neared the top of the stairs we could hear the buzz of voices, glasses tinkling and nervous laughter. I was holding tightly onto Sid's arm hoping we wouldn't meet anyone we knew. We entered the room and I was amazed at the number of people there – well over 100. Many seemed to know each other and there were clusters of people in animated conversation. Others, like us, must have been first timers. Their nervousness showed.

As Sid led me over to the small bar his face lit up.

"Willy, I didn't know you were on tonight!"

"Yes sir, Dr. Weisberg, I see you were able to make it after all."

Willy glanced at me and then back at Sid with a conspiratorial smirk.

"A vodka martini for the lady and a scotch for me, Willy." Sid said with a smile, obviously pleased that someone had recognized him.

I got the distinct impression that he and Willy were in cahoots and that something was afoot. I began to feel uneasy, but worse, Willy's familiar banter with Sid made me feel self-conscious. I looked around wondering whether the newcomers would think that Sid and I were regulars at these meetings! I was impatient, hoping that Willy would keep his mouth shut and quickly make the drinks. Willy held up an olive on a toothpick and I held up two fingers. He gave me a grin and put two plump olives on a skewer and plopped them into my martini glass.

Just as we started sipping our drinks, an extremely handsome man in his late 30's entered the room through double doors and asked for everyone's attention.

"Welcome. Welcome everyone. I am so glad you could all attend our seminar tonight. I see a lot of familiar faces and some new ones."

With that, he looked directly at me with his piercing black eyes. I looked down at my feet self-consciously under his gaze.

"Well, our program is about to begin. If you will please follow me, the seminar will start in just a few minutes."

We followed the handsome "Master of Ceremonies" through the doors. I spent an inordinate amount of time studying the card on the easel propped up outside the door as we all shuffled into the conference room. It read "Power Exchanges – A Discussion Of The Dominant-Submissive Experience."

Sid sat down at the end of a row toward the middle of the room. A young couple, I would guess in their late 20's, sat next to us. He was wearing all black and she had on a light cotton dress with a floral print. Around her neck was a chrome choke-chain, the kind you would buy in a pet store for a large dog. The loop-ring hung down the cleavage formed by her ample breasts. She must have seen me staring at the choke-chain. She gave me a radiant smile and stuck out her hand and said proudly:

"Hello, my name is Suzy! And this is my owner Peter."

Peter peered over his sunglasses and stuck out his hand.

"Hi, nice to meet you, - and your name is?"

"Susan" I answered rather curtly "and this is my husband Sid."

Sid shook hands with Peter and said in a stage whisper:

"Unfortunately, I don't own her!"

Suzy beamed at Sid's silly joke then turned and grasped Peter's arm. Sid and I sat down to await the start of the talk while Suzy and Peter remained standing, talking to some people in the row ahead of them.

As she turned away from me, I noticed that the back of Suzy's sundress was almost non-existent. On her lower back, I was startled to see a large black tattoo. It consisted of a six-inch rectangular "plaque" with the letters "S-L-U-T" prominently printed in skin-tone! Try to explain that to your grandchildren!

I turned around in my seat and faced Sid. I could see that he had also noticed Suzy's tattoo and his eyebrows lifted.

"This should be an interesting night Zu-Zu!"

I put my arm through his and smiled.

"Yes, darling, it certainly should be!"

* * * *

The program started with the Master of Ceremonies introducing the speakers. There were four in all, although I don't remember their names. All were very articulate, attractive and passionate speakers.

The first speaker was a woman by the name of Molly. She explained that she had met her dominant master, Adam, who was also on the dais, about six years ago, and that they lived a committed dominant-submissive lifestyle, with Molly being the submissive. I was amazed at how intelligent, passionate and unafraid this woman was. How could it be that she completely submitted her will to this man on a daily basis, being little more than a piece of property, his slave? She explained how "freeing" it was for her to leave her "improvement" to a strong man who cherished her and knew what was best for her.

The concept was disconcerting for me. Many of her words seemed pathological, yet her demeanor was radiant, happy and well-adjusted. Although she didn't explicitly discuss their sexual activities, it was clear that "punishment" was a large part of their sexual interaction, with Molly being the "bottom" as she called it and Adam the "top".

Molly explained that finding a good dominant partner was extremely difficult since (as she explained it) he needed to always be tuned into her needs and her limits but could not rely on her direction for help in ascertaining those needs.

As I listened to Molly and the other speakers, I kept thinking of Joe's experience with Beth. Joe was totally unable to relate to the inner compulsion that motivates these people. Beth was aware that Joe was not "dominant" and made no attempt to make him into one. Yet, they fell in love. How cruel life can be sometimes!

It was clear to me that these speakers were not people who were playing at BDSM like some of the "mainstream" couples I had seen in my practice, who occasionally dabbled in the "kinky". These people lived it. The two submissive women on the dais gave themselves completely to their dominant partner, body, mind and spirit. Their souls were stripped bare to their masters. Each had to trust that her partner would understand her needs and meet them.

I began to think about how difficult it must be for a person to be a dominant. I looked over at my Sid who sat in rapt attention listening to the speakers. Could Sid take on the responsibility of ordering my world for me without my input? What a burden that would be for him! It's hard enough for me! Imagine doing it for another person, all the time, with no help!

Would I be able to trust Sid enough to surrender my freedom totally to him? Could I allow him to do whatever he pleased with me without reservation, without my direction and without question? That would be quite a leap of faith, even for a short period of time and even though I have known Sid for over thirty years and love him dearly.

I imagined how different tonight would have been if Sid were dominant and I were submissive. He would have merely told me "Zu-Zu we are going out tonight, wear this and be ready at 8 PM." No discussion! No explanation needed or allowed.

By the same token, there would be little or no worry on my part. Since I wouldn't know where I was going, I couldn't worry about the problems that might arise.

Ruminating about this gave me a surprising feeling of freedom which made me lightheaded. I realized how freeing it could be if one could point to one's master and say to the world that HE makes the choices, I just obey.

In a way, a submissive can do nothing wrong except disobey! The submissive's "job" is only unquestioning obedience and servitude. If she does that, she is always right, always a good girl. If there is a problem, well, the master has screwed up, not her.

I imagined my biggest concern tonight; meeting someone I knew. If I were submissive, I would be free, in my own mind, to excuse my being here as my obedience to my master. I am a good submissive. It was master who made the decision to come here and whether it was the right thing to do. It was master who decided that I should come along and not stay at home. I cannot be criticized for being here since I am just obedient; I am here because he has ordered it so. My wardrobe has been chosen by my master, it is not my choice; if it is ugly or inappropriate it reflects on him, not on me. I smiled as I understood this revelation. I wondered if this is the way it feels being a Catholic?

* * * *

I was startled by the quite staccato of polite applause which woke me from my thoughts. The darkly handsome man who hosted the program had just thanked the speakers.

People started filing out of the room but Sid and I lingered and waited for the crowd to thin out before making our exit. I was interested in the people who were clustered around the speakers at the front of the room and enjoying watching their interaction. That's when I saw Priscilla Block.

She went over to the handsome Master of Ceremonies who had run the seminar and was hanging onto him intimately, whispering in his ear. Since there were quite a few people standing around the dais and more clustered among the folding chairs talking in small groups, I was pretty confident that Pricilla would not notice me among all those still present.

As I looked around the room I looked to my side. Peter and Suzy had also remained in their seats, but Suzy was kneeling on the floor intently focused on something in the seat next to her. At first I thought she lost a contact lens and was about to offer to help find it.

Looking more closely, however, I realized that she was performing fellatio on her "owner" as he sat unperturbed among the now empty chairs in our row. When he saw me gawking at them, Peter gently collected the hair falling around Suzy's face and held it up, giving me an unobstructed view of the obscene display of his little "slave" slobbering hungrily over his angry red member. I saw Suzy's cheeks blush and her eyes opened wide as she tried to look at me without removing her mouth from his penis. Then I looked up and saw Peter's eyes boring into me and a sly grin forming on his lips. It was clear that he was playing with me as much as he was playing with her!

With that, I stood up and grabbed Sid's arm, indicating that it was time for us to leave. Unaware of what was going on right beside us, Sid escorted me into the aisle and we exited the lecture room.

As we returned to the anteroom, we discovered that tables had been set up with literature on BDSM themes, including a display table with restraints, leather items, blindfolds, gags and similar things. This was an opportunity for the attendees to meet and mingle and get a flavor for the BDSM "lifestyle".

Sid made a beeline for the BDSM paraphernalia and I browsed the other tables taking whatever literature I thought might be interesting. As I sauntered around the room, I noticed Beth Powell sitting at one of the tables.

She was dressed in a plain cotton dress and looked non-descript. Her hair was pulled back severely into a pony tail and she had on little makeup. Since Beth didn't know me, I felt emboldened and began browsing the literature on her table trying to overhear the conversation she was having with the woman seated next to her.

I stood among the people in front of the table and was nonchalantly leafing through the brochures trying to look inconspicuous, when Pricilla Block appeared behind Beth and put her hands on her shoulders. The handsome young man who introduced the seminar was with her.

Pricilla unfastened Beth's pony-tail and began caressing Beth's hair as Beth helped the bystanders around her table. Pricilla's caresses became more and more intimate as the Master of Ceremonies watched dispassionately. It was almost embarrassing to watch as Beth closed her eyes and submitted to Pricilla's soft caresses. Everyone standing around Beth's table, including me, was shamelessly witnessing the intimate interaction of these two attractive women.

When she was satisfied that she had our attention, Pricilla swooped her hands down into the loose bodice of Beth's dress and began playing with her breasts under the thin material. Pricilla's attitude was casual, as if her actions were merely a friendly pat or handshake. Beth, on the other hand, was beet red and obviously embarrassed even as she writhed in pleasure beneath Pricilla's expert caresses.

The Master of Ceremonies was watching stoically with measured glances as if he were permitting or controlling Pricilla's actions but not participating. The other people standing around the table with me watched unabashedly and crowded closer together blocking the table from the rest of the room. If you were standing a few feet away, you would have no clue that something untoward was happening.

As I gazed from face to face, it was obvious to me that the people standing in front of Beth's table with me were more than mere voyeurs; rather we were all part of a "scene" and were supplying the needed frisson for Beth's humiliation and subjugation.

I was transfixed by this scene as everyone watched Pricilla knead Beth's full breasts beneath her dress. Pricilla looked at each person around the table as if inviting each of them to visually participate in her indecent handling of Beth's tits. When Pricilla's eyes met mine, her mouth twisted into an impish grin as she recognized me. I saw her grasp Beth's breasts roughly under the thin cotton material as she engaged me in a warm, inviting voice.

"Why Doctor Sharp, it's so nice to see you here tonight!"

The spell around the table was broken and I was now the center of attention. Beth's eyes shot open in surprise and horror, as Pricilla's hands mauled her breasts even harder.

As if in a slow motion dream, I saw Beth's expression change from one of increasing arousal to embarrassment and discomfort. Pricilla continued her conversation with me as if nothing at all out of the ordinary was happening.

"Why Beth darling, aren't you scheduled to see Dr. Sharp next week? How nice of her to come tonight and get a flavor for our little organization and to see how much fun we have here!"

My worst fears had come to pass. Not only was I identified by someone who knew me, but I was being made the object of attention in connection with a most disgusting and erotic spectacle. I was extremely anxious; the blood was pounding in my ears and I felt as if I were going to faint.

Both Beth and Pricilla stared at me as did the others around the table, waiting for me to respond to Pricilla's remark. Some of the people around the table were smirking at Pricilla's audacity and Beth's discomfort. It was clear that I had been drawn into this obscene little tableau by my own pompous recklessness and now I was being used by Pricilla to heighten Beth's humiliation. I was becoming angry, at Pricilla for baiting me and at myself for being stupid enough to linger at Beth's table.

Overcome by feelings of anger, humiliation, and yes, sexual arousal, I felt compelled to respond to Pricilla's taunting remarks, rather than turn and walk away, as I should have done. Instead, I engaged Pricilla and in a voice laced with sarcasm and, I am embarrassed to admit, cruelty, as I said in clear and measured tones: