ornate dangly earrings now safely tucked away in Adamâs jacket pocket. Oh, and I was wearing red lipstick â lots of fabulous red lipstick â because in my everyday life, unmasked, away from BDSM and at my desk, I would never think to wear it. Tonight, though, with the corset and the mask, it looked and felt perfect. Tonight, I had the feeling that I could be anyone and anything I wanted, and there is a joy and an added frisson in anonymity and reinvention.
This was one of my first big nights for some time. Max was a hard act to follow, and I couldnât imagine going back to the world of vanilla relationships and vanilla sex. It isnât that vanilla canât be good; itâs just that once youâve tasted the pleasures of BDSM itâs hard to go back, and impossible to unknow what youâve learnt about yourself and the people you have shared the journey with. For me, guided by Max, my sortie into BDSM had taken me to a place where I had been able to explore my own needs and desires in a safe and exhilarating way, and the experience had an intensity and intimacy that I had never had in a vanilla relationship.
So, as I said, Max was a hard act to follow. I had been looking for a new Master for a while â it wasnât something I planned to rush â when I got a phone call from Maddie, a Dominatrix I had met a couple of times while I was seeing Max. She and her husband liked to get together with other couples for parties and dinners with a strong BDSM element. Hers was a place where birds of the BDSM feather could flock together and play, drink, relax and have fun.
âSo how are things?â she said after saying hello.
âFine ââ I said, not knowing quite how much she knew about Max and me.
âGreat. Iâm just ringing to ask if you and Max would like to come to a party ââ
I was about to launch into the weâre-not-together-any-more speech when she said, âItâs a special party for a special birthday. Although Iâm not telling anyone which one. Iâd love it if you could make it. I rang Max but I think he must have changed his number.â
âHe has,â I said.
âHave you got it?â she asked. âIâll update my phone book.â
âIâm afraid not. We split up a little while back.â I didnât explain how hard it had been or how messy, but I did say that he had decided to go back to his previous partner.
Maddie was quiet for a moment or two and then she said, âIâm so sorry. I thought you two were fab together. So how are you doing?â
Where to begin? âStarting over. Looking for someone new,â I said.
âSo have you found anyone else?â
âNo. Iâve met a few guys but ââ I left the phrase hanging.
âWell, there you are then,â said Maddie. âWhy donât you come to the party anyway? It would be great to see you. Iâm just thinking who I can invite that might interest you,â she added mischievously.
âThatâs really kind but Iâm not really sure about coming on my own.â
âOh come on, youâll be fine,â said Maddie. âIâll look after you, I promise â and weâve got some lovely people coming. I think youâll probably know quite a few of them already. Thereâs going to be good food, champagne, dancing. And thereâs plenty of room for you to stay over if you wanted to have a drink.â She paused. When I didnât reply she added, âYou really should come, Sarah. Where better to find a new Dom than at a BDSM party? Come on, say youâll come. Thereâll be lots of people whoâve come to play and you donât have to join in if youâd prefer to watch. You know that. And weâve got some other singles coming. Itâll be a chance to dress up and have some fun.â
I smiled; Maddie was really selling it.
âCome on,â she pressed. âItâll be fun.â
Which was why I now found myself tied up in one of Maddieâs bedrooms, with a man I barely knew, but whom Maddie assured me was a complete pussycat. A pussycat with a real gleam in his eye and a tongue that was making every inch of me tingle.
The bedroom Adam and I were in was dominated by a large mirrored wardrobe that ran along one wall and gave a perfect view of what was going on between the two of us. I found myself watching Adamâs attentions as he moved across my body, while feeling his tongue and lips on my throat, and the nip of his teeth. It is odd to see what is going on as well as to feel it, and it added another layer of excitement and expectation, as I became both an observer and a participant. It was compelling viewing.
Adam cupped my breast, nipping the dark peak between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it, tugging at it, while the woman in the mirror, her hands fastened above her head, gasped at the sensation. She looked mysterious and exotic in her mask, her skin slightly flushed, eyes bright with desire, as she moved under Adamâs knowing touch.
I smiled at her and she smiled back.
Adam caught my gaze and nodded. âAdmiring yourself?â he said, and then before I could reply, he continued, âWhy donât I give you something worth watching?â
He picked up a riding crop from among a selection of toys on a side table and flexed it, bending it into an arc before taking a couple of practice swings to gauge the heft. He slipped off his jacket, took out his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves and tried again. The shaft cut through the air with a distinctive and familiar sound that made me flinch.
Adam smiled at my reaction and then teased the leather tongue at the end of the crop across my hardened nipples before gently flicking them, making them tingle and throb. Circling me, he stroked down over my ribs with the leather shaft, then my stomach, my waist, up across my shoulders, my back, my bottom, my thighs. With every caress I was anticipating the crack and the sting, not the gentle kiss of its tongue. Its touch, his cool, considered attentions and the waiting made me shiver, made me ache, made me hungry for more, and then finally I closed my eyes, shutting out my reflection, full of expectation for what must surely follow.
Was that the moment Adam had been waiting for, the moment I closed out the world and concentrated on him alone and the crop and what they could give? The moment I surrendered I felt the crop moving away and an instant later the hot wild sting as it found its mark across my back. I gasped, jerking against my restraints, as every nerve ending in my body lit up. The blow wasnât hard, but it was enough to make me focus on what was happening, turning my eye inward.
Before I could gather my thoughts the crop hit home again. I cried out as much from surprise as any pain, bucking and gasping for air. The stroke was still not particularly hard but it hurt nonetheless; the sensation left me breathless. I had forgotten what being cropped felt like, how sharp and how cruel the feeling, the sensations rippling out like lava from the point of contact. Despite being a subbie Iâm not naturally drawn to pain; it is only here in the BDSM arena where I understand that it is a means to an end that is why I seek it out. I am torn between loving and loathing how it feels. The truth is that pain takes me to a place I canât reach any other way, but even so I find it hard to ride the waves that lead me there.
âCan you count?â Adam whispered in my ear as he leant in so close that I could feel his breath on my skin.
âTwo,â I whispered thickly, my voice almost lost in among the clamour of sensations.
âVery good,â he purred, and then I heard the crop cut through the air again and braced myself, knowing what was coming next. The blow was fractionally harder this time, the sensation more acute; I gasped and threw back my head, pulling hard on the restraints.
âToo much?â he asked.
âNo,â I whispered. âNo.â
âThatâs