Jeremy.
The name tingles me still, in a weird way. While Hiyama had been a clear cut example of traditional Japanese sexual sadism, another character in my life confuses me still. Jeremy was a tall white boy.
As American as American can be.
Some years ago, in eighth grade, he was six feet tall, a lanky(and later I would find out) sinewy build to him. He had pretty blue eyes, dark brown hair; handsome in this off handed, forgettable way.
He came to my little dungeon in the winter of freshman year. Apparently, his father was a BDSM den master, a friend of Hiyama's. He walked in on an unremarkable evening. I was immediately embarrassed when D brought him downstairs. I didn't look him in the face. Not at first. He gripped my arms from behind, betraying his young age. He had already taken off his coat; I felt his bare abs touching my back. I exhaled a bit, scared. Then he started talking.
"My Dad told me about you. You are always so quiet, so in your own head at school that I didn't want to believe him. But I looked in your eyes and there's sexiness dripping from your every movement, your every word, every time you look at someone." Slowly he caressed my arms.
I can't really describe the feelings he gave me; it felt like I could scarcely breathe. A poignant mix of grit from sleeping with a stranger to being sexually intrigued beyond my own admission. He breathed feathery wisps of hair away from my neck.
He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my face back to meet his. It was a gentle tug, I inhaled sharply but I also remember looking forward to our interaction, or rather just curious about what this young man possessed that made me enjoy something so ingrained with hate from me.
I was wearing D's button up silk shirt. No panties, no bra. His free hand made experienced, quick work of every button on my shirt. Each pop of freeing fabric jolted me. He cupped my breast firmly, playing with my body. He sat down on the bed in front of me. His hands glided against the curve of my hips. I threw my head back at the feeling he gave me. When his lips brushed my stomach, I let myself be taken into arousal; I gave myself freely to this man, I look at it as my true first time having sex.
He continued to kiss my stomach and breasts, long eyelashes fluttering against my nipples.
"A smile...." He breathed. "And it's a beautiful one too. "
Deft hands made quick work of any clothes left, kissing his way down my body.