by Quin Perin
Single Tail Whip – Any whip that has one fall.
Play – This is any kind of kink activity.- BDSM activities and the lifestyle is serious and shouldn’t be taken lightly, but what we do is supposed to be fun and enjoyable. This is why play is often used when describing BDSM activities. Also, I will use play space over dungeon because while play spaces are low light in some areas it's not a scary place and I personally think that dungeon can have negative connotations. This is a personal preference of mine. You can take it or leave it. :)
Primal – Trying to define primal is like trying to define submissive or dominant. So, all I can give you in this is my own perception. While primal is a newer designation, the idea of it has been around for a long time. There just wasn't a name for it. A primal headspace is about breaking things back down to instincts; sight, touch, smell; being more aware of what's around you, who's around you, how their energy feels to you. Primal play activities can be anything from cuddling to biting to rough body play to wrestling to predator/prey hunts in the woods. While some primals identify with certain animals, not all do, and even those that don't, play between primals can be very animalistic. Side Note: While power dynamics can certainly be present, I've found that it's not there more than it is there. As someone who is sensitive to dominant and submissive presences/energies that are given by people often times primals will fluctuate. I've watched primals wrestle and play with each other not to gain dominance over one another but just to do their best and have that physical exertion and connection to another person. Again, this is all opinion based on personal experience and observances over years of watching and interacting with people who identify as primal. Everyone's experiences are valid.
Chapter One - Liam
The First Night
I stood outside the door to the local BDSM club/community center, and my nerves were getting the better of me. It wasn't the first time I'd been here by any means. I'd been a member for years. This was the first time I was coming here on this night. The last Thursday of every month was Men's night. It didn't matter what your sexual orientation was as long as you identified as a male, you were welcome. I'd heard many stories about the kinds of things that went on during Men's night that you'd never see during any other play night at the club. It wasn't that those things were discouraged or even not allowed during other play nights. Just for whatever reason when men gathered and what I was sure were primarily men who fell somewhere on the scale of sexual attraction to other men gathered, it changed the energy of the large play space that I knew was just beyond the door in front of me.
I'd been exploring various aspects of the BDSM lifestyle and community for almost two decades, and I'd been in this city and this community for just over three years. I was comfortable here, but the last year I felt like something was lacking. I identified chiefly as a primal, but I also liked to bottom for various kinds of impact play. While I wasn't the most submissive person out there, I was a masochist, and I enjoyed pain and the pleasure that sang through my body when it was inflicted.
Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I jumped out of my skin and about half an inch in the air. I hadn't realized I was still just standing in front of the entry door staring at it while my mind lost track of reality. I turned around and found a younger man smiling at me. He was very obviously looking me up and down, and his smile turned devious. He was about my height but more petite than I was.
"Are you going to come inside or are you determined to win a staring contest against the door?" He smirked at me and gestured towards the door. He was wearing plain jeans and a t-shirt, but he had on a leather collar signifying that he belonged to someone.
I half snorted and half laughed. "Umm, yeah, sorry." I turned the handle and pulled the door open. I moved back out of the doorway and ushered him in with a wave of my arm. "After you."
"Oh, and a gentleman." His inflection went up along with his lips as they curled in a genuine smile. "Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome." I smiled back, and even though he used the honorific, I knew he only meant it as a way to show respect, like what most non-kinky people would use it as. I followed him in and shut the door behind me.
The door led to a small reception room with a few chairs, a coat rack, an information table with all kinds of brochures and pamphlets, and a check-in counter. I stood a few feet away from the other guy checking in to give some semblance of privacy. On really big special event nights, this room would be packed with people trying to check in and fill out paperwork for guests. I didn't like those nights too much, and after attending several over the years, the novelty of being around that many people wore off.
The guy finished and headed towards the door that would lead him into the rest of the club. He opened it and turned back towards me. "Have a good night."
I inclined my head towards him. "Thanks, you too."
I kept the smile on my face as I stepped up to the counter. I pulled out my membership card from my front pocket. After the first year that I lived here, I decided to get a lifetime membership for the club. It was cheaper overall than paying every six months to renew it. This year was the first year that I started paying for the yearly unlimited door pass. It was just easier that way. I didn't have to worry about anything, and if I happened to not come so often because I was busy, then any extra just benefited the club.
Unlike most clubs I'd been to around the country, this one was nonprofit and all of the staff and board members were volunteers. All the money the club made went right back into it and the community by way of the education program that was provided. It was admirable and successful. It was also the main reason I decided to make this community my home. It was open and welcoming, and while there was some drama here and there, everyone seemed to work together to make the club and the community a safe place.
I handed over my card to the receptionist on duty tonight who I knew in passing. He smiled at me warmly as he took my card and scanned it. "Good evening, Blaze."
"Good evening, Steele." He returned my greeting as he handed back my card. "This is your first time coming to Men's night isn't it, Steele?"
"Yes. Anything special I need to know?"
He thought for a moment and then shook his head. "No. The same rules apply as always." He smiled at me again. "If you need anything or have any questions you can come ask me or the Men's night event host Able."
"Thanks, Blaze, I will." I tucked my card back into my pocket with my phone and walked over to the interior door. I didn't bother bringing my wallet in since I didn't need anything but my card and my phone. It was just a clunky object that would mess up the lines of my jeans, not that I was trying to impress anyone tonight or anything. It was just a habit I had for whenever I came here.
I walked through the door, and I could hear some of the bass come through the closed double doors ahead of me. To the right of me were the bathrooms and a small break area with a fridge and sink, coffee maker, and snacks. Off the break area was a classroom that was currently empty, and then to my left was the social area. That area was filled with couches and comfortable chairs that anyone could use. It was the area where you could talk freely, and a lot of people used it as an area for aftercare. It wasn't unusual to see the far corner couch filled with a couple cuddling after a scene. Tonight, this whole front area was empty. I'd never seen that unless there was a special demonstration going on in the play area.
I put my hand on the handle to one of the doors, and I took another deep calming breath before I turned it and pulled open the door. The sound of the hard beat made from the music hit me along with the heat of the room. I was glad that I wore my typical outfit of a sleeveless black t-shirt and dark blue jeans. I wore my leather forearm bracers and work boots. I was not prepared for the sight that was in front of me nor the smell.
It wasn't bad, but the smell of sweat was strong. It was almost like walking into the locker room at the gym, but there was more to it here. There was the smell of cum and arousal overlying the sw
eat. It was unlike anything I'd ever smelled before. Something was intoxicating and tangible about it. It didn’t disgust me, but rather sparked a heat in me that I’d never felt before.
The play space of the club was more than half of the overall space the club occupied. It was all open. There were a few open rooms off the main space that held some special equipment, like the medical tables, a low massage table for a quieter, more intimate feel, and then on the opposite side was an open shower area. That was next to the one bathroom that was in here, and that did have a door. It was used for scenes and for its intended use. It was all stainless steel from top to bottom. I was glad I didn't have to clean that.
To the left of the doors were lockers where you could store personal items and clothing, and to the right of the doors were large storage racks where you could put your toy bags. I didn't bring anything with me. While I did top from time to time, I usually didn't need more than my hands. Some bottoms had their own toy bags that were full of the implements they liked to be used on them, but that wasn't for me. I didn't want to force a top to use an implement they weren't familiar with. Yes, many were the same type, but I just wanted whoever was swinging a flogger at me or whatever else they were using on me to be something they were used to and comfortable with. To each their own, I thought.
I stepped in and let the door close behind me, hoping that I hadn't lingered in the doorway long enough for anyone to notice. The lights were low, but there were also directed lights in certain areas that you could increase or decrease as needed. The sounds of flesh being hit, moans, groans, grunts, and even some growls hit my ears, and it was a cacophony that was familiar and foreign at the same time. It was void of the higher pitched moans and screams that one usually heard. Beneath those sounds was the murmur of whispered voices as some men stood to the side and talked. They were punctuated by a shouted, "Yes Daddy!" from the cross area.
I looked over and saw a slender man topless in just jeans and no shoes with two floggers slung over his shoulder as he leaned in close to the bottom and spoke in his ear. The top spanked the bottom with a gloved hand and squeezed his ass before stepping back. From the faint red marks on the top's sides, they had been playing for a while. The top took up the leather floggers again, one in each hand and started his dance once more. The bottom was naked but for the collar around his neck and the red marks on his back. I walked in that direction mesmerized by the Florentine dance the top performed with his arms. His feet were firmly planted, and only the top half of him moved forwards and backward as he varied the depth to which the falls hit the bottom's skin.
I knew exactly what that felt like and the skin on my back started to itch in anticipation. As lovely as it was watching a top who was clearly the master of his implements like that, he was not who I was here for. The one I was here for; I'd never actually met before much less talked to. I knew I could have messaged him through the one BDSM lifestyle website that everyone used, but I felt that was too impersonal and the guy probably got tons of messages and didn't bother to read any of them. No, he deserved for me to seek him out in person. I’d only ever seen him once before in person, but then I was too scared to talk to him.
There he was, at the bootblack station. He was sitting in the chair while someone was polishing his shoes. I moved closer and saw that Able was standing next to him and they were talking low. One always had to be careful while approaching the bootblack station because getting one's leather cleaned could be just as much a scene as the flogging on the cross was. In this case, it didn't look like that was happening since Able was engaged in conversation with Hightower.
Most everyone used a moniker of some kind in the overall community not just here. This was because many people kept this side of themselves secret for one reason or another. We respected that. This wasn't a place where you meet people and ask about their families and jobs. No, here you get asked more fun things like, "Are you a top or bottom?" or, "Do you like thud or sting?"
But there were exceptions to all rules. In this instance, the man I was here to see was called Hightower in the lifestyle, and I knew that was his last name as well. He was a police captain in one of the precincts here in town, and everyone knew it. He was out and proud and had been since before he was a captain.
He was respected both in his career and here the community. He was also the only whip top in my area. There were a few people that dabbled in shorter whips, but he was the only one who used longer whips. Last year, he gave a demonstration and a kind of whip 101 class here at the club, and ever since then, I'd been utterly fascinated. I researched first and watched many videos online about whips and whip scenes. I had been craving something, and I didn't know what until I saw him that day.
One of the lovely ladies that I bottom for was familiar with using smaller whips and had used a short signal whip on me a few times. It was pleasant, but it was more of a tease than anything. What I wanted and what I craved was to feel the bite and sting of a bullwhip or a stock whip. He had both. At the time, the differences and nuances between them were foreign to me, now they were familiar. I even invested in a couple of paracord hybrid bullwhips. I had plenty of room out on my property, and I wanted to know what it felt like to swing them. While I was nowhere near ready to swing one at a person—and I didn't think I ever would want to—I was proficient enough to be able to do a few different kinds of swings and crack the whip consistently. I was more fascinated in the sport of whip cracking than in wanting to hit someone with a whip. It also gave me a better understanding of the physics of the whip and how it could impact flesh. I was obsessed with the need and desire to feel it.
When I finally worked up the nerve to talk to Hightower, I didn't want to seem like a complete newb. I wouldn't lie either and say that I had more experience than I did, but I didn't want to seem like some green guy who just saw something shiny and wanted to explore it. There's nothing wrong with doing that, but I wanted to display a modicum of seriousness so that he would take me seriously.
I had sat down on one of the chairs scattered around the room while I contemplated how I was going to approach him. I had played through the scene in my head a million times, and now that I was here, it all seemed like I was just going to make a fool out of myself. Some barks to my right drew my attention, and I looked over.
There were two guys decked out in pup gear wrestling on the wrestling mats by the padded wall. Their handlers were sitting nearby talking to each other while their pups played. It was rare to see pups like this, and I wondered if they came out to Men's night all the time. I always wanted to play with some pups. I wrestled a lot with other primals or more like a combination of grappling and wrestling. But I wondered what it would be like to play with some pups. I watched them for several minutes while I let them distract me from my true goal.
I turned back to see Hightower stand up and bend over to whisper something to the bootblack, probably a thanks. He stood back up, and he walked back towards the double doors. Shit! Was he leaving already or was he just getting some water or something?
I stood up and walked after him. I tried to hurry without seeming to be in a hurry. I didn't think I succeeded. I pushed open the door and saw him standing in front of the one-cup coffee machine waiting for it to warm up. Phew! I wiped my sweaty hands on my ass as I approached. I rolled my shoulders back and tried to put on an air of confidence.
He was wearing a plain white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up revealing muscled forearms. He had salt and pepper hair that looked rather good on him. The shirt was tucked into black slacks, and he wore black wingtips that were freshly shined. There wasn't a thing out of place on him, and while I wasn't sexually attracted to anyone, I could admire the tall, broad body of Hightower. I was short by most standards at 5'8" and he was easily half a foot taller than me.
He looked up from the drawer with the cream and sugar as I approached. I nearly froze when his dark eyes met mine. He looked back down and pulled out two creamers and two sugars before looking
in my direction again.
"Watch this and when it's done put the cream and sugar in and stir it, but not before. Then go sit right there and wait for me to return." He pointed over my shoulder to one of the couches in the social area. He didn't even wait for me to acknowledge the order before he walked away with a bottle of water in his hand. He went back to the playroom and I was left standing there looking at the coffee machine.
I hadn't even gotten a chance to open my mouth to say hi, and he was already ordering me about. I really wasn't that submissive of a person. I knew how to follow orders, and I stood there waiting for the coffee to finish feeling like an idiot. Does he just order everyone around? Granted the dominant presence he had oozed from his skin. It was like he had a radiance effect at all times. I'd never felt anything like it. There was one older female dominant that had a similar presence, and although I respected her, she didn't inspire me to kneel before her. Hightower was a whole other level. The warmth I had contributed to nervousness spread across my chest and down my abdomen as I stood there dutifully waiting for the coffee to finish.
The last of the coffee dripped into the cup, and I obediently poured the cream and sugar. I put the cup inside another cup because the cups were too thin, and the coffee was hot. I stirred it and then threw the trash away. I picked up the cup and went to the couch and sat down. If he was under some delusion that I would be on my knees waiting, he would be disappointed.
Several minutes passed, and he strode into the room. His stride was purposeful, and again I was struck by how visceral his presence was. I tried to control the shiver that ran down my back. He grabbed one of the side chairs as I stood up. He gestured for me to stay and he placed the chair in front of me and sat down. He was sitting higher than me, and I immediately felt the difference in our positions. I held out the cup of coffee, and he took it from me. He sat back in the chair and put an ankle over his knee.
