It was the first time I left the house in over two weeks. Here I sat, on my own at the bar, looking cautiously at my surroundings. Never before had I been to a BDSM themed bar. It was rather daunting. I didn't know if I was more afraid of meeting someone or meeting no one.
Sipping the same drink I'd gotten more than twenty minutes ago to calm my nerves, I looked around. Everyone around me was wearing next to nothing, and acting in a way that wasn't usually publicly acceptable; men were dragging women behind them on leashes and in a few cases vice-versa. Dominants sat with their submissives kneeling on pillows at their feet and sometimes touching them in ways that people only usually would in the comfort of their own bedrooms.
I couldn't help but notice there wasn't a single person in the room whose feet I would have liked to kneel beside. If Erica was here it would be different. Even after weeks my thoughts only ran to her, to the still-vivid memories of her teaching me about passion and myself. Every morning I lay in bed and cried until I ran out of tears. I tried to soothe myself by snuggling into my pillow as though it was her bosom but it never worked. I missed being held and punished and scolded. I even missed the smell of her expensive musky perfume and the sound of her heels on the floor.
With those four words, 'I don't love you,' she had ripped my heart out and torn it into tiny pieces. I wasn't sure if it could be salvaged. I would even be willing to bear the physical impacts of her temper again. Trying not to tear up again, I cleared all thoughts of Erica from my mind. Thinking like this wasn't going to solve my problems. What I really needed was something to take my mind off her, to have fun again. That's why I came; it was the only answer.
I was brought out of my doldrums by a dark haired man, clearly a dominant by his choice of outfit. It was strange, being able to tell so much about someone from the way he or she dressed. In a place like this I suppose the dress code helped a lot of people find what they were looking for; people practically wrote their sexual roles on their foreheads. Picking out the single lesbians however was a different matter.
'See my mate over there,' the man pointed.
'Um... yes,' I said, following his gesture to a table on the other side of the club. His friend was a tall skinny man wearing a short, pink dress with ruffles around the neckline.
'What do you think?' He asked with a dirty grin.
I must have looked completely disgusted at the thought.
'Stuck up bitch!' He said, giving me a dirty look and beginning to walk away.
'Nothing against your friend!' I panicked, not wanting to offend anyone. 'I prefer women...' My voice began to entirely fail me, and I still surprised myself when I quietly admitted, 'dominant ones...' I ventured a small guilty smile.
'You're a submissive!' he exclaimed, looking confused.
'Yes,' I replied.
'You don't dress like one!' he said looking me up and down.
I didn't actually own any proper BDSM style clothes. I had just worn my black, imitation leather skinny trousers I had bought for £10 in Topshop tucked into my heeled ankle boots and a partly sheer lace bustier. When I looked over all the other females in the room I realised I was indeed dressed more like a dominant than a submissive. Submissives tended to show a lot more flesh; to be honest I thought the majority just looked like tarts. Erica had never expected me to adhere to any kind of dress code.
'I've never been anywhere like this before,' I admitted. 'I had no idea what to expect.'
'I was wondering why I'd never seen you around before! It's not too bad for a first attempt... Are you waiting for someone?'
'No, I just came to get a proper feel of all of this.'
'Come over to our table. There might even be a few lesbians of your variety waiting there,' he smiled broadly.
I went with him, grateful to escape my solitude. I felt awkward sitting there on my own and besides, the reason I came here was to meet new people.
'I'm Jonathan by the way,' he said.
'I'm Anna.'
There were seven people sitting around the table; three couples. Jonathan and his wife Marcia, Helen and her submissive partner Simon, the man who Jonathan had tried to set me up with, Joe, whom everyone teasingly called 'Josephine' and finally a lesbian couple, Carla and Beth.
Jonathan quickly introduced me as 'Anna; the submissive lesbian.' I watched Joe sink disappointedly back down into his seat.
Everyone at the table was surprisingly attractive. I must admit I had been expecting a room full of nerdy, overweight people. I was ashamed of myself for being so stereotypical. Jonathan and Marcia were the perfect image of dominant and submissive. Jonathan was tall and muscular while Marcia was very petite with huge brown eyes. Helen wasn't very tall but I couldn't help but notice her disproportionate cleavage which I was sure was natural. Her submissive, Simon, sat obediently at her feet on his leash. Joe was quite a feminine looking 'woman' but there was something unmistakably cute about him.
Carla and Beth were both the epitome of the typical pretty girl. Neither was any more than average height or build but they had nice, firm, proportionate bodies and obviously believed in showing them off. They both wore matching outfits; heels, stockings, short skirts and low cut tops. I learned they were both switches and seemed very open minded.
Neither of them had the same immediate presence Erica had; she only had to look at me and I was on my knees. Everything felt so natural when I was with her. I sighed as I thought of Erica once more. I didn't particularly want to be submissive to either Carla or Beth, or for that matter, any other woman in the room. I wanted my Erica to walk in, pick me up, take me home and pull me over her lap.
I quickly tried to get rid of the thought. Erica had been all I thought about for weeks. Most days I hadn't made it out of bed and spent my time crying into my pillow because she had rejected me. I had lived in hope that she would come back and allow me to cry into her bosom and cuddle me, but as I looked around this small table I slowly realized I had to move on. After a few more awkward moments I had made up my mind; this evening I was determined to prove to myself that I didn't need Erica.
I suppose that's how I ended up back at Carla and Beth's. I was usually very cautious about who I slept with although I had acted so differently with Erica. I didn't want Carla or Beth in the same way. They couldn't compare, no one could.
We got a taxi back to the apartment and wasted no time in getting straight to the sex.
'You're going to be ours to play with all evening,' Beth teased. Her short, platinum blonde bob accentuating her dimples when she smiled.
'You'd better do as we say,' Carla added, walking up behind me. I noticed how blue her eyes were. I was convinced they were contacts. All of a sudden she was right behind me and had one of my breasts firmly cupped in each of her hands.
Beth pinned my hands behind my back and kissed me vigorously. I jumped up onto my toes in surprise. This was all happening so quickly.
They both let me go at the same time and I fell back onto the flats of my feet.
'It's always the pretty ones isn't it?' Carla began, 'They always think they'll get what they want just by standing around and batting their eyelashes.'
