On Friday night, the lights at the Eyrie were turned low. The Eyrie was an old warehouse, converted into a BDSM club. Some of the equipment was over twenty years old and showed the signs of wear from hundreds of floggings and spankings. Black and white bondage photos adorned the walls. A James Taylor song playing over the speaker was apparently a favorite of the proprietor but did little to set the mood.
Two women sat together at a table idly watching scenes of beatings and rope suspensions.
"I haven't seen you play for a while, Lucy," said Alice, a slim brunette.
Lucy Fischer shrugged. She was a blonde woman, and curvy. She had no shortage of offers, even though she'd long since quit dressing to entice at the club, settling for a medium length skirt and a sweater most of the time. After years of coming to the Eyrie she knew practically everyone. She'd played with half the men there, and a few of the women even though she didn't swing that way. Sometimes kink didn't have to be about sex. In fact, for Lucy, it usually wasn't, although she preferred to have both. But her standards for who she'd have sex with were different than who she'd take a beating from.
"I guess I've gotten picky," she said. "Just bending over and getting whacked isn't doing it for me. I mean, some of the guys are alright, and all. But the only ones who really seem to have what it takes are taken, and while they might give me a good scene, I want more than that."
"More, like a boyfriend?"
"No, not that so much. I mean, it'd be fine if I had a boyfriend, too, but I think I'd have one if that's really what I wanted." In vanilla life, Lucy was a psychotherapist. She spent her days asking probing questions, rather than answering them.
Alice's eyes widened. "Or like a Master?"
Lucy nodded. "More like that. Not necessarily that whole Master/slave thing, but maybe. I mean, that would be great, but some of those M/s types get so caught up in protocol that they seem to have forgotten what it means to have good sexy fun, and I wouldn't want that either. Not into getting spanked for folding the laundry wrong. But someone who I can submit to, who I can trust, who values what I have to offer beyond a willing butt to swat. You know?"
Alice smiled. "I'm sure there are lots of guys who are like that. But how are you going to find one without playing, Lucy? A spanking or a bit of rope is the kinkster equivalent of dinner and a movie. It's how we get to know each other"
Lucy shrugged. "Maybe. If a guy has potential, I'll give it a try. Again."
"There's all sorts of people here. Speaking of which, what do you think that guy's deal is? I've seen him around here a couple of times, and he never seems to do anything."
Lucy followed Alice's nod. She'd seen the man several times over the last few years. He was dressed in a suit, as usual. Designer stuff, not cheap. She wished more guys dressed up to go to the club -most of the women dressed to kill, and the men wore T-shirts and jeans on a good day and loose-fitting shorts on a bad one. On the other hand, the gas mask the man wore was decidedly not her thing. "Yeah, I've never seen him take the mask off. Maybe it's not even the same guy every time."
"How many different guys would come wearing a suit and a gas mask to the Eyre? It's gotta be the same guy."
Lucy nodded. "You're probably right. But you can't tell for sure, can you?"
"Ever talk to him?" asked Alice.
"Nope."
Alice giggled. "Maybe he's Mister Right, and you just don't know it."
Lucy snorted. "I doubt it. Besides, I'm not entirely looking for Mister Right. Maybe I'm looking for Mister Wrong. Or some combination of both."
"I think he's got a better chance of being Mister Wrong."
The man in the mask had turned towards them, as if he knew he was being talked about. Maybe. It was impossible to tell where his eyes were looking through the goggles of the mask. Still, Lucy stared back.
Maybe it was her imagination, but the man seemed to incline his head as if to indicate the empty seat next to him.
"He's got to be a sub, right? Who else would wear a mask like that? Or dress up? His Mistress must have ordered him to wear a suit," said Alice.
"Maybe. Or maybe he needs to protect his identity because he's some government dude or something."
Alice shrugged.
Lucy got up suddenly. "To hell with it. I'm going to go find out."
Alice raised her eyebrows. "Want me to come with you?"
Lucy shook her head. "Nah, I think I can handle it on my own. I don't want to spook him." She felt safe at the Eyrie. Despite her discontent, the people here were her tribe, and they'd have her back if anyone tried something she didn't consent to.
She walked over to him. Some guys liked to look, but they turned their heads the moment they were caught. Not this guy. He looked straight at her. He nudged the chair he'd indicated before when she got there.
"Hi," said Lucy, taking the seat offered.
"Hello." The voice was deep, and the mask muffled it. "Nice to meet you."
"I'm Lucy. What's your name?"
"Some call me the Director. You can call me Kent if you prefer," he said. "I've watched you play. You're looking for something more."
"Yeah, I guess so." Had he read her mind? Mind reading would be an awesome trait in a Dominant, but she was pretty sure it was also a mythical trait. She decided to change the subject. "I've seen you here a fair amount, and I've never seen you play. What are you into?"
"I am into control," he said. "For the right person. For someone who craves it."
"Being controlled?"
"No. I prefer the dominant role. And I sense you prefer more than the simple bottoming you usually do."
She shook her head. It was true, but he couldn't possibly 'sense' it. Maybe he was one of those jerks who thought all women were just waiting to submit to a guy. "More? Like what do you mean?"
"To submit to someone worthy."
Lucy snorted. "Do you pick up many girls wearing a gas mask?"
"No."
"Why do you wear it? Fetish?"
"No."
"Then why?"
"You wouldn't believe me."
"Maybe you'd get more action if you took it off. I don't know what you look like under that, but I do know that I've never seen you play, and you're around a lot."
"I'd rather not play at all then play without power exchange. I'll take the mask off when the time is right. Tell me, Lucy, do you truly wish to submit? To let your will be bent and shaped by another person, who in turn takes it upon themselves to seek your best self? Or do you just want the illusion of it?
"Who seeks my best self? That's a good line."
"It's more than a line. We both need control. You seek the control of another. I am controlled by my principles. There is no other kind of submission I'm interested in, than that which benefits the submissive as well as myself."
She paused for a moment. The mask turned her off, but it also stopped her from fearing his reactions. It was a little like being on the internet. She'd revealed stuff about herself anonymously online that she never could admit to a friend like Alice. She felt she could speak more forthrightly because she was cut off from what he was feeling.
"Okay," she said. "Yes. I want to submit to someone who will take care of me. Flog me - and do all the other things - but also in the end take care of me. Someone who possesses without being possessive, because I have people I play with sometimes and I'm not ditching them, but someone who makes me feel they own me nonetheless. But it isn't going to be someone wearing a mask, so you can forget that right now."
"Is that truly what you want, Lucy?"
Close up, she could see the man's eyes through the goggles. They were steel gray, and intense. She felt for a moment like he could see through her to her soul.
"Yes. That's truly what I want."
He reached behind his head and pulled off his mask. She breathed in and felt light-headed. It was as if breathing the same air as him was intoxicating, but that was ridiculous.
She'd expected perhaps someone scarred, if he wasn't protecting his identity. And he wasn't devilishly handsome. There was nothing remarkable about him except for those intense eyes. He had brown hair and average features.
He leaned close. "Tell me again. Is it truly what you want, Lucy? And be totally honest."
"Yes."
He lifted his hands above the table. He was wearing gloves. "I warn you that play with me can be highly addictive, so it's important to know for sure."
Yeah, right, a part of her wanted to say. But part of her almost believed him. "Uh-huh," she said.
He took the left glove off and offered his hand to her. "Shall we play, then?"
She hesitated, and the put her hand in his. What cost in playing with one more person at the Eyrie? This one would at least create some gossip. The man in the mask, finally revealed. "Wait," she said. She'd forgotten one of her basic rules. Negotiate, negotiate, negotiate. "What kind of play?"
"We will start with a spanking. And we will move on from there. I shall ask you for consent each step of the way, and nothing will happen that you don't agree to."
Don't negotiate in mid scene was one of the rules of the kink-scene, sometimes ignored but almost universally agreed to. But here he was negotiating ahead of time to do exactly that. She supposed that was above board enough.
He continued. "What I am proposing, Lucy, is a seduction. I will try to get you to do more, but you are free to decide to do less. I am being honest when I say that I doubt very much you will choose the latter, but it will be up to you."
Seduction. That was missing from carefully negotiated scenes. The assumption was that a submissive couldn't stand up for herself once she was under a dominant's spell. But Lucy was experienced, and she knew herself pretty well. She could say no at any time. And he was being open and up front about it, unlike the vanilla dates she'd been on where the guy reached his arm around her and the next thing she knew he was copping a feel. She nodded. "You can try to seduce me. I don't promise to go along."
He smiled. "Of course." He led her to the spanking bench with the sureness of a man who didn't fear rejection - either because he knew he could handle it, or because he didn't imagine it would happen. His confidence was sexy. She followed him.
"Bend over. I believe you are familiar with the position this particular apparatus is made for."
She nodded and started to mount it.
"First, however, remove the skirt."
She stopped. He'd waited until she'd started to get on the bench to say he wanted her skirt off, but she'd taken spankings with less on in the Eyrie before. He'd probably seen some of them. She slipped her skirt off, revealing black lace panties. "Sufficient?" she asked.
