I think I should start with a brief description of who I was at the time this takes place, and to do that there are a few things you should know about me.
I am an idiot savant. This term covers a wide range of different people and does not mean we are not intelligent. Far from it in fact. It’s just that as good as we are at something we are equally bad at something else. In my case I have amazing pattern recognition and a generally higher than average IQ. Except for in one category. Numbers. I have almost zero short term memory for numbers and vary little long term memory for them. Seriously, I can hardly remember my own birthdate and It took me 7years or there about to remember my own phone number. The up side? There are patterns everywhere. There is stunning beauty in them and you can learn all kinds of things from them. One useful trick is the patterns peoples faces make when experiencing certain thoughts or emotions. I learned years later these are called micro expressions. I know I know.. none of this has anything to do with bdsm… hold your horses… I will get to it.
At this time in my life I was vary shy, 19 years old and skinny as a rail. I drove a 1984 Ford mustang that I swear ran not on gas but on the misery of its driver. I went out at night and walked around the city a lot searching for inspiration. I have always liked the night, even in the bustle of the city it is calmer at night. It was on one of my walks that i stumbled apon a club playing music i actually enjoyed. Elysium. It was your typical goth club, a fun place to listen to music I enjoyed and drink before I was 21. I became a regular and spent many a night siting in a quiet corner sipping a drink and either writing or sketching. What I didnt know was it it was also a bdsm club. I usually went on Friday and Saturday nights but that week I was busy on Saturday finishing a painting so I went on sunday night.
And it was then that I saw it.. the bondage show… I was enraptured. In that smoke filled room, with dark heavy music playing I watch a spectacle of pure beauty unfold. A woman, in shackles.. topless.. crawling onto the stage. She was lead on a leash by a man dressed in black leather. She licked his boot, and was picked up and almost thrown onto a cross. Her hands and feet were secured and he removed a whip from his belt. But I was not watching the whip.. she turned her head to look out at the crowd. I saw her eyes.. wide with anticipation, fear, and.. hunger. I could feel it all the way at the back of the room. She WANTED this. No, there was lust in her, and need, and something I had never felt before.. submission.
CRACK the whip fell, burning a crimson line across her back. She cried out… not trying to muffle her pain, but to share it. The whip fell.. and fell.. and through her tears she was gasping not in pain.. but in pleasure. Her eyes rolled and she twisted and jerked as the whip left a road map apon her pale flesh. Then he stoped.. dropped the whip with a thump, put his hand in her hair jerking her head to the side so that everyone could see her tear streaked face, wide eyes, and mouth hanging open gasping for breath. She was sobbing and moaning at the same time. And then he slowly bent and slowly traced his tongue across the welts on her back. She came.. shuddering and spasming.. and then collapsed agenst the cross.. her thighs slick with her sweat and lust. And i.. standing in the shadows in the back of the room… was hard as a marble pillar.
I was enthralled. I needed this in my life like little else before. So I studied, and learned. I talked with the doms at the club, soaking up everything they told me. They were old school and I think they enjoyed my honest desire to learn. One in particular took a liking to me, he was older.. maybe late 40’s and enjoyed teaching as much as I enjoyed learning. I spent the better part of a year learning from him. And was part of the bondage show for a while.
Gone was the shy goth kid… I was a dominant. I knew a lot by then but was smart enough to know there was a hell of a lot still to learn. I am still learning and still enjoy adding new ideas or techniques to my knowledge.
I will never forget these two things. The look in the eyes of the sub on the cross or the look in the eyes of the sub that first kneeled before me and called me Sir.
Well… another story told.. there will be more.. but for now I will bid you a good night.
Best wishes -SirHanz