[Tawse]

This is the beginning of a much longer story I may actually finish writing one day...



My mission that night was basically one of forgetting. I didn’t want to think about work or my love life, as lacking as it was. Really hadn’t had a love life since my last lover had left me. That was a little over a year prior.

She was a feisty one. I remembered her whispers of trust and compassion. I remembered her kisses of eternal love and acceptance. But more then that, I remembered her screaming at me the day she left.

She had found out about the darker side of me, the side that wanted nothing more then to be a submissive. She had found the books, the partially melted candles and the restraints. At first she thought I wanted to hurt other people, that I was a sadist. As we talked that evening and I explained that I desired to have pain inflicted on me, a strange look came over her face. We didn’t sleep together that night, she said she needed time to think. The next day she packed her things in silence. I watched her, in silence, for the longest time until it became obvious that she was going to leave without even an explanation. I challenged her, asked her what had changed. Told her I was in fact still the woman she had fallen in love with. That is when the anger came. A raw bitter primal anger I had never before witnessed. She tore down my defenses with the skill that only a lover could possess. Then, without even a glance back, she disappeared out the door. She left nothing except the cold harsh air and visions of what could have been.

When she left, I wore her words of pain and anger like a vest. Always close to my heart; yet giving no real comfort. I took them personally. I tried to ignore the cravings I had in the middle of the night. I put away the candles and the restraints, threw away the books of perverted sex. I knew that I needed help, but was too ashamed to ask for it. I had no idea where to turn or who to talk to yet the dreams continued, and the fantasies refused to die. Something had to give, or I was going to lose what sanity I had.

I heard a group of coworkers joking about a bar in town, a bar for the ‘sick fucks’ of the world. My mind swam as if intoxicated. That had to be my kind of bar. Outside I laughed along with them. Inside I made a mental note of the name.

That’s what led me to where I was that night. Sitting in a dark car parked in an even darker parking lot. Smoke drifted lazily from my cigarette as I tried to find the courage to actually get out of the car and approach the club. I had been watching people enter the club for close to an hour. Most wore leather of some kind. Some had hair died blue, yellow, red or green. Still others wore whips from their hips like the knights of old had worn their swords, with pride and honor. Those were the ones that caught my attention the most. Those were the ones that caused my breath to catch and my crotch to get moist. I considered driving away, pretending that I had never even gone there, but I knew that the dreams wouldn’t end just by my parking in a dark lot. I flicked away the cigarette and got out of the car.

Entering the club was like entering another world. The theme seemed to be dark music and black lights. Fog machines worked overtime to make sure no one could really breathe or see clearly. The bass of the music hit you like a drunken lover out of control. It commanded your attention, drove you into submission and then carried you away to its bed. Surrounding a modest dance floor, there were stages set up along the perimeter of the club. On the stages scantly dressed dancers gyrated; some to the music, some to a beat only they could hear. It created a very hypnotic atmosphere.

I stood along one of the walls towards a dark barely lit corner, and watched the natives of the club. They smiled, laughed and basically seemed to share a mutual joke they had over the rest of the world. They may have been seen as freaks, but these freaks were happier then most normal people I encountered. I saw lesbians and gay men talking happily to a group of punks and businessmen. Blacks, Whites, and Asians talked without the slightest hint of tension. This place was a paradox. Perhaps a slice of Utopia found within the common bond of being freaks. I was in heaven. And that’s when I saw her the first time.

She was something. She wore a black dress that seemed to be alive, never appearing too loose or too tight; constantly shifting so that she didn’t look bad for even a second. It seemed to absorb all light that dared to come too close to her. Her red hair was only a hint of the fire she contained and controlled. She kept it in a loose braid trailing down the center of her back; bangs fell lightly against her face like the loving kisses of a fresh-lit fire.

She was talking with a group of rather large men. All wore leather jackets and some sort of pervert gear. Within the group there had to be enough whips, chains, restraints, and collars to stock a large toy box. Physically she couldn’t be more then about five and a half feet tall, yet despite that she commanded attention within the group. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, even when she looked my way. I was sure my jeans had to be soaked. The thoughts this woman evoked in my mind were anything but pure.

The third time she looked my way she winked, and I felt lightheaded. That was enough to break the spell. I turned towards the bartender and ordered another beer. When my gaze returned back to the group, she was missing. My gaze hurriedly scanned the club, trying to find her again, but to no avail. She had simply vanished.

The music lowered momentarily and the dancers left their stages. I wondered what was going on, but I didn’t have to wonder for long. On the main stage a scene started to unfold. I shifted my position and moved away from the corner, affording myself a better view of the main stage, yet still remaining in the darkness. On stage a woman was pouring wax down the chest of a man. I wanted to be that man. I wanted to feel the burning wax cool and solidify on my breasts. My own breathing became quick and forced.

“You like what you see?” A question from behind. A female voice.

I nodded my head.

“You’ve never been here before have you?” The same voice this time accompanied by a light touch to the small of my back.

“No” I replied, my voice coming out as little more then a raspy whisper. I knew who it was behind me.

It was Her.

“Get on your knees” It was a request that carried the strength of the Roman Empire.

“I don’t even know you” I replied.

“Yes you do. I am everything you’ve ever fantasized about. I am that secret you keep from everyone, sometimes even yourself. Now get on your knees, or you’ll never know if it’s all you dream it is” This time Her request was aided by Her hand resting on my shoulder and pressing down ever so lightly.

I looked towards the main stage. The woman was now flogging the man while he was restrained to a large wooden structure. No one was looking towards me, the music was still blaring, and my mind was spinning out of control. I lowered myself slowly to one knee, then the other.

She ran her fingernails across the base of my neck, and I could feel every individual hair on my body stand erect.

“Very good; you need this as much as I need to give it to you, don’t you.” She calmly concluded; it was not a question.

“I don’t even know you.” I repeated. I could actually feel moisture on my jeans now.

“We do know each other. It was a different time and a different place, but we do know each other. You don’t remember, nor should you, but I never forget a soul.” Her voice was right next to my ear now. It was low, and saturated with need.

Somewhere inside my mind an alarm went off. What she had said should be examined. What was she saying? What did she mean? So many questions, and yet my mind let them all fall through its fingers. None of the questions or possible answers seemed to be of any importance.

One of Her hands reached around and grazed a nipple, stopped and twisted it slightly. I offered no resistance, my breath catching momentarily before coming out in a short shallow rush.

“I want you to get up, and follow me. There is a place we can finish this.” She whispered in my ear, twisting my nipple one last time. On the stage, the woman was now leading the man away with a leash. Dancers were taking their places again, and the patrons were breaking away from the tight huddle in the center of the room. I hastily got up from my knees, turned and followed Her to wherever She would take me.