“Get out of there and come help with the dishes,” AJ scolded him.
“I don’t think you need to,” Sami said, surprised and a little guilty.
“Probably not, but Allie’s got her hands full this morning,” AJ said. “It’s the least we can do.”
“Well, then I guess I’ll make the coffee,” Sami said as Crash found a towel and started drying. They worked in silence for a few minutes. Sami was impressed in spite of herself. She would never have pictured professional football players doing dishes, especially as paying guests in someone else’s house. She looked for leftovers to put away, but there weren’t any. Crash, of course, she reminded herself.
They were finished in record time, drying their hands and wiping down the countertops and stove.
“I have an idea,” Crash said suddenly. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”
They both stared at him as if he had spoken Swahili. “We just ate breakfast,” Sami said.
“Yeah, but that was”—he looked at his watch—“minutes ago. Where’s your friend Carly’s place? That’s a restaurant, right?”
“It’s a diner, yes. Peckish. In Grandpointe.” Sami was beginning to get nervous again.
“Come on, then. Show us.” Crash led the way out the back door at a trot, and AJ raised his eyebrows at Sami.
“You’ll have to come,” he said. “We don’t know the way.”
She opened her mouth to inform him that she didn’t “have” to do anything. But then she found herself nodding instead, and they followed Crash outside. “As long as you drive.”
* * * *
The door opened and three people walked in. Carly automatically grabbed menus and pasted a smile on her face as she glanced around to see what tables were open.
It wasn’t until she was standing in front of them that she recognized Sami with the two football guys from Clifftop.
She blinked. “Hey! What are you guys doing here?”
“We wanted to see your place,” said the tanned, blond one. AJ, was it? The dark-haired one was taking long whiffs of the air as if trying to smell everyone’s food at once.
Sami gave her a sheepish smile and seemed to be about to explain when the dark-haired one suddenly grabbed Carly’s arm and peered into her face with an almost desperate expression. “Do you have real food here? Pancakes that are made from actual flour? Hash browns? Out of regular old potatoes? Maybe even—dare I say it? Sausage?”
“Um, yeah.” Carly involuntarily took a step back. “I have all those things. Perhaps you noticed the sign on the door that said ‘Diner.’ Kind of goes with the territory. Didn’t you eat breakfast at Clifftop?”
“Yes, we did.” AJ smiled reassuringly. “And it was fantastic. But my perpetually ravenous friend here thinks he’s a hobbit and is never happy until he’s sampled every available source of food in a twenty-mile radius. I’ve known him to knock at strange doors and beg startled housewives for a taste of the cake he smelled cooking from two miles away. Have you ever seen those nature shows that talk about sharks and blood in the water? It’s the same thing with him and anything remotely edible.”
“Oh, come on,” Crash protested. “That was only once. And it was right next to the practice field. It couldn’t have been the first time that happened. Besides, I signed her kid’s poster, didn’t I? It isn’t like it wasn’t a fair trade.”
“Anyway,” Sami cut in, “I think the boys would like to get a little between-meal snack. It’s been a whole”—she looked at her watch—“thirty minutes since they ate.” She smiled at the men in spite of herself. “I’ll just have a coffee, please.”
Carly led them to a booth and watched in amusement as the guys silently contested for the spot next to Sami. It would have been much more amusing to see them crammed into one side, but AJ finally won, sliding in and proclaiming that he would hate to see Sami lose a hand if she got in the way of Crash’s eating.
“So, what’ll it be?” Carly set three coffees on the table in front of them.
“Yes.” Crash put down his menu.
“Yes?”
“He means he’d like one of everything,” AJ supplied, still studying his menu.
“Okay. How do you want it cooked?” Carly lifted an eyebrow at Crash, who gave her an angelic smile.
“I’ll have the big breakfast, over medium, white toast, sausage, crispy hash browns, pancakes, and one of those giant chocolate chip muffins.”
Carly’s eyes flicked to Sami. “You said they ate thirty minutes ago?”
Sami glanced at her watch again. “Well, it’s more like thirty-five now. You’d better get that food going before he faints from hunger.”
“I’d like a cinnamon roll, please,” AJ said, handing Carly his menu.
“I wish you guys lived here. I’d never have to worry about paying the rent again.” Carly shook her head and headed back into the kitchen. She put the cinnamon roll into the microwave as she got out the ingredients for Crash’s meal.
Over the course of the next half hour, Carly caught snippets of the conversation between the three. Much of the time consisted of Crash telling funny stories, although how he managed to talk so much while shoveling food into his mouth was beyond Carly. She was relieved to see Sami laughing and looking almost relaxed. She wasn’t sure what was bothering her friend, but knew she would find out eventually.
After a while AJ seemed to cut off Crash’s stories and began asking Sami questions.
“You don’t want to hear about me,” she heard Sami protesting.
AJ leaned forward, pushing his plate away and taking a swig of coffee. “Sure we do. How did you get the name Buffy, for example? That has to be a better story than any of Crash’s.”
“I’ll tell you that.” Carly took the cup from him and refilled it, then set the carafe down and started clearing the dishes. “It was third grade. We were totally into Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Watched it every chance we got. We’d quote lines from it to each other and pretend we were hunting vampires during recess. One day this big bully kid decided he was going to mess with us. He hid behind a tree and jumped out as we came up to it, yelling. Of course we ran, but he managed to knock me down. So he’s standing over me, gloating about how I wasn’t as tough as I thought I was, and suddenly there’s this stick pointed right at his jugular.” She chuckled. “He looks over, and Sami is staring him right in the eyes, even though she could barely reach his throat. She says in this low, dangerous voice, ‘Step away from my friend. Don’t make me take you out.’ She was Buffy from that day forward.”
Sami was bright red again. “Did you have to tell that story?”
The guys were laughing in delight. Carly blew Sami a kiss and picked up the stack of plates. “So, who’s ready for the menu again?”
Crash clutched at his stomach. “I’m stuffed. Give me ten minutes.”
As Carly walked away, she heard AJ’s voice. “So, Buffy. Do you think you can work with us this week? We won’t force you to, of course. But it’ll be much more fun for me if I have you to play with instead of just Magilla over there.”
Carly paused, pretending to be adjusting her load as she waited to hear what Sami would say.
There was a slight pause. “I guess I can put up with it. Do I get to do to you guys whatever you do to me?”
Crash answered her. “I think that’s the idea. Didn’t Allie say that Dominants are supposed to experience everything before they do it to someone else?”
“Yeah, she did.” AJ sounded surprised, obviously having forgotten that part of it.
“You’re welcome to tie me up anytime, Buffy,” Crash said.
Carly went into the kitchen, smiling.
* * * *
After lunch the whole group moved out to the barn. Allie took them on a tour of the dungeon equipment, explaining how each piece was used. Sami was glad that she’d been out here before and knew what to expect. The way Susan grasped her husband’s arm and gave horrified gasps at each new piece of furniture made Sami feel im
patient and annoyed, even though her own reaction hadn’t been much different.
Allie seemed to be feeling the same way. Her eyes narrowed a bit, and she gave a small sigh. “There’s nothing to be nervous about,” she assured the group. “BDSM is based on mutual consent. They like to joke about torture, but nothing is done without the purpose of bringing pleasure to the participants. We will be going to the local club tonight,” she continued, glancing at the wall clock. “The owner is scheduled to be here any time now to do a talk on dungeon etiquette. Until she gets here I’ll just take questions—”
The door flew open, and a small woman with bright-purple hair rushed in. She was short and chunky, and a purple sarong was tied around her waist over a black tank top. She had the air of being cheerful and frazzled at the same time.
“Sorry I’m late, Allie.” She took her place at the front of the room and looked around with a friendly smile. Sami thought to herself that finally here was someone who seemed perfectly safe. Not normal, maybe, but very safe.
“Not a problem,” Allie said. “This is sky, everyone. sky, this is Roy and Lucy, Greg and Susan, and over here is AJ, Crash, and S—sorry, I mean Buffy. Right?”
Sami nodded hesitantly. sky gave the guys an odd look but simply repeated the names with a solemn expression. Then she closed her eyes and repeated them again softly, as if trying to commit them to memory. When she opened her eyes again, her face lit up, and she clasped her hands, looking around at the group.
“Welcome, new friends—although I guess this isn’t my place to welcome you to, is it?” She twittered. “But you will be welcome tonight at my club, The Keep. We’re going to discuss what happens at a public dungeon, what kinds of play you might see, and how members are expected to act. I will do an orientation for new members tonight, but Allie wanted you to get a more personalized and detailed introduction today, so I agreed to come and talk. You won’t need to attend my orientation later unless you want to.”
Allie began putting out bottles of water and snacks as sky talked. She seemed to be carefully putting some out of the reach of Crash, who bent forward eagerly to investigate.
AJ nudged him. “Leave some for other people,” he whispered. “There’ll be more food later, and you need to pay attention.”
“So,” sky began, “there are a few things you should be aware of concerning the leather community. Allie has probably already explained much of this to you, but bear with me. I need to go over my list in the order I’ve memorized it or I’ll get lost. That doesn’t mean you can’t interrupt and ask questions. We have all afternoon, I believe?”
“That’s right,” Allie said cheerfully from the doorway. “I’m going to go and get a few groceries while I have the chance.” She sent a pointed glance to Crash, who was absorbed in breaking apart a cookie to see what mysteries it contained.
“Good. I have you all to myself, then.” sky rubbed her hands together. “Let’s begin by talking about scene names. Of course it will be impossible for some of you to remain anonymous.” She twinkled in AJ and Crash’s direction. “But the rest of you will want to think about what names you want to go by. It probably isn’t as important here as it would be in your home towns. There have been many instances of people losing jobs or custody battles because it was known that they were kinky. So privacy is very important. You may certainly give your own name and talk about your profession or family, but don’t ask other people for their real names or about their outside lives if they haven’t offered information.”
She talked for the next hour, describing the types of play she did and did not allow at the club. There was no scat, or feces play. No guns were allowed at all. Golden showers and blood play needed to be discussed with her beforehand and set up in designated areas of the club, with specific instructions for the covering of surfaces and cleaning afterward. She discouraged breath play unless she knew the partners well and was confident in their abilities and their regard for safety.
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t as safe as Sami had assumed.
“Safety?” Susan asked, raising her hand timidly. “How can you call any of these things safe?”
sky gave her a brilliant smile. “That’s a fantastic question. On the surface none of these things seem safe, do they? That is precisely why we’re attracted to them. It’s very similar, in some ways, to going to action movies. The things that happen on film look very dangerous and very painful. They’re engineered to be that way. Many of the things we do also look more dangerous and painful than they actually are. Needles, for example, are very intimidating the first few times you see them done. Some people take hundreds of them, and some take them in very sensitive areas. For the most part, though, needles are not painful. There’s an initial pinch, but it’s soon forgotten when the endorphins start flowing. Staples are even less painful with similar results.”
Staples? Sami shivered, glancing at the guys to see if they were looking intrigued by any of this. AJ was whispering something to Crash and handing him another cookie. Crash was as white as a sheet. Good. So they probably weren’t going to expect her to do that.
“But some of the pictures you see show people who are all mutilated and bloody.” Susan shuddered. “That must be painful.”
“Oh, of course,” sky agreed. “But those people have carefully negotiated their scenes and are getting exactly what they want out of the experience, believe me. Usually in order for a scene to go that far, the ‘bottom’ is highly experienced and very carefully warmed up. A good warm-up is a vital part of most scenes. It allows you to process much more pain than you would normally be able to. Many people are able to turn pain into pleasurable sensations, even sexual ones. They get something they want by allowing themselves to be seemingly mutilated.”
There was silence for a moment as they all considered her words. Then sky’s face brightened again. “But there are many, many other ways to play that don’t require that level of masochism. Here is a list that you might want to consider.” She passed out a sheet of paper with several columns of items on it. “At some point everyone should go over that list and mark the things you’re interested in trying with a five, the things you might think about or want more information on with a three, and a zero if you’d rather be stuck in an elevator with swarming killer bees. On second thought, go ahead and look at it now. That way, if there’s anything you’d like explained, just ask.”
Every hand at the table went up at once.
“What the hell is ‘infantilism’?” Roy asked with a laugh.
“Being treated, or treating someone else, like a baby. It’s also a subset of ‘age play.’”
“Mummification?”
“That’s complete immobilization by wrapping the body from head to toe. It can be done with plastic wrap, special body bags, straightjackets, duct tape, or whatever else you find that’s long enough.”
“Urethral sounds?”
“That’s the insertion of wands into the urethra, usually for the purpose of stretching it or to allow a very unique sensation by the wand vibrating—similar to a tuning fork. You probably won’t see that at our club.”
“Uniforms?”
sky nodded. “Good one. There is quite a large percentage of the BDSM community with uniform fetishes of one kind or another. You will often see people at the clubs or at festivals wearing uniforms. Military, police, nurse, foreign, cheerleader, camo—you name it, someone has a fetish for it. It goes along well with the whole bootblack community as well. They tend to wear a lot of camo and military-type gear, I think because it looks good with their shiny boots.”
Sami finally raised her hand. “This sounds silly, but what does ‘chores’ mean in a kinky context?”
“Many, many submissives are what they would refer to as ‘service-oriented,’” sky told her, with the air of settling down for a long discussion. “This would be a good place to talk about D/s, or Domination and submission. Not everybody in the community enjoys giving or receiving pain. There are also a large numb
er of people who engage in D/s, or power exchange, relationships. Power exchanges can last anywhere from an hour or two to a lifetime. It’s all up to the participants. The tricky thing here is not to confuse power exchange with abuse or manipulation. Neither person in the relationship is helpless, even though we talk about giving up power. It’s kind of like investing. You give your money to your broker, or whoever, and they use it for your benefit by making more money. D/s is similar. It’s harnessing your wills together to make you both stronger. You will see people at the club who are there simply to demonstrate the hierarchy of their relationship. They may use collars, leashes, shackles, or ropes. The submissive may be naked, or nearly so. They might wait on their Dominant or just sit on the floor next to them. These are all things that they couldn’t do in ‘polite’ society, so they come to the club to do them, and also to talk to other people who practice the same kind of lifestyle they do. Feel free to ask them questions, but please be respectful. They may seem strange or freaky, but they’re still human beings with feelings.”
She called a small break for people to get up and stretch their legs. Sami suspected it was as much for her benefit as their own, as sky immediately went outside.
She followed. The older woman was lighting up a cigarette and gave her a friendly smile.
“Those are two good-looking guys you’ve got there.”
“I—Thanks, but they’re not exactly mine,” Sami told her. “I’m just kind of borrowing them for the workshop.”
“Well, they certainly could be, judging by the way they look at you,” sky observed. “Aren’t you interested?”
Was she? Sami stared into the distance, confused. “I’m not sure,” she confessed finally. “How do you know if someone is—safe?”
sky tapped ash off her cigarette. “That can be tricky. It depends on what you mean by ‘safe.’ They don’t seem like the serial-killer type. I wouldn’t take them for extreme sadists either, although you can’t always tell. A criminal sadist wouldn’t be coming here to learn how to play safely. Our kind of sadists don’t get anything out of inflicting pain unless the bottom is enjoying it, so you don’t generally have to be afraid of them anyway. What exactly are you concerned about?”
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