Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) (3 page)

"First off, let’s skip the introductions and get straight to some definitions-" Samuel cuts his eyes to mine as I nosily clear my throat and interrupting his spiel. "Yes, Sorcha?" he grunts with a wicked glare in his eyes.

"Daddy, Sir- I am going to need some alcohol to go with this little talk." Jumping up from the warmth of my seat, I head to the sleek liquor cabinet to see what he had in stock. A true bartender to the core, his supply never disappointed.

"To start,
that
, is a brat." Samuel inclines his head towards me. Ben and Steven chuckle and I look over my shoulder and stick my tongue out at him. "Seriously, though. Sor, you are going to spend a great deal of time on your knee's being punished with an attitude like that,” Samuel sighs as if it were a lost cause.

"Yeah, that will be the day," I snort as my fingers lace around a fine red in victory. Palming up the opener, I quickly work the cork out with a 'pop' just as Samuel begins to explain what a Daddy, Master, Sir and Top are as well as the differences between them but how the terms can be interchanged based on preference and play. Steve is hanging on his every word and seems to be internalizing every morsel Samuel produces as evidenced by his posture and the squaring of his broad shoulders. He was definitely trying it on for size. After offering a glass to the others who politely wave me off, too engrossed to be bothered with libations; I make my way back to the cozy recliner with the bottle and a single glass. Samuel starts in on defining brats, subs, baby girls/boys and bottoms while I contemplate forgoing the glass and getting down to business with the bottle alone. Closing one eye and peering into the opening while considering my options, Samuel gives off his pissy sigh, breaking my concentration.  

"Am I boring you already?" He aims his disdain at me as the longer hair that he keeps slicked back on top falls forward a bit, softening his appeal and eliciting a smirk from my own lips. His face hardens into that trademark glare of a master and I quickly cut it out and sip my wine so that he can continue; I don't want to get my ass spanked tonight... not ever for that matter. Tucking my feet under me, I intently tune my attention to teacher.

"Now, a switch is someone who identifies with being a Top and a bottom and can slip into either role pending their planned play or partner who they are wanting to scene with," Samuel continues on in a well-rehearsed fashion.

Ben's eyes light up. "Is it common to be a switch, how do you know?" Steve stiffens under the weight of Ben's question, clearly having always been a top himself.

"That really depends on the person and common is not something I care to use as a label in the kinky world. Labels and social norms are blurred. It really comes down to preference and the understanding/ communication you have with your partner. It is always encouraged to try new things on for size if it fits your fancy." Samuel winks and Steve turns a shade darker.

I take it someone isn't keen on the idea of his husband trying switch on for size. Momentarily, a fleeting sense of sadness for Ben passes through me. If I had a penis, I’d fuck everything in sight no doubt and here his husband is clearly uncomfortable with the idea of being on the receiving end of that. Oh well, to each their own. Those two have been together for a few years, are more in love than ever and Ben certainly has never had any complaints. But still… to have a penis; now that would be something.

“That brings us around to scenes. Think of a scene as a setting or a stage in which your playtime with your partner or partners will take place. To ‘scene’ with someone indicates that you have or will be engaging in play with them. It is important to understand that not all scenes are sexual, while many may be, that is not the standard as it comes down to the power exchange between those who are playing, that is what is important.”

“Sam, I have a hard time believing that,” I scoff, the wine now kneading out any knots and loosening my shoulders.

“Oh?  A hard time believing that not all exchanges are about sex?” Samuel cocks a brow, clearly amused.

“Yes, it is all so sexual in nature, isn’t that the main goal?” What was the point if it wasn’t?

“No, it is about the power exchange, the control. If I want to simply go fuck someone, I can. This is another type of journey.”

“That’s a lot of work to flex a bit of control,” I harrumph.

“Says the same little shit who goes to crazy-ass lengths to exercise control on a whole other level in all facets of her life?” His tone is merry and the sparkle in his eye has Ben and Steve chuckling at my expense once more.

“Annnd, I got nothing… proceed.” Fuck, he did have a point!

“That’s what I thought. Now, there is quite a bit of talking that should be taking place with your proposed partner long before you step foot into a scene. We will go over this more in a bit. I have some basic contracts we can use as discussion topics as well as a way to further acquaint you with terminology, definitions and types of play. The point of the initial negotiations is to establish boundaries and explore options for your scene together. It is also important to talk about hard limits or absolute no-go’s, safe words, fantasies, boundaries, emotional or physical triggers that could come up during play so that they can be handled carefully and respectfully. This is also a time where you scan your potential play partner for any red flags or warning signs that tell you if that person is safe to play with or not. What is a red flag to one could be completely fine for another; it is person dependent and more about finding the right match.”

“And, how do we avoid even getting in the little situation. I mean, Ben and Steve will be lip-locked and I am only coming to get you all off my ass.” My lips find my glass as Samuel cuts his eyes to mine. Steve and Ben jump up to grab something to drink sensing the energy uncomfortably shift in the room.

“Have you thought about just experimenting and giving it the old college go?” Samuel bites, tired of my disgruntled attitude.

“Nope. It ain’t my sti-lo. Just jump to part where you teach me about etiquette so I don’t get my virgin ass beat,” I snort.

“First, I wouldn’t start with that opening line. Virgin ass is a delicacy.” His striking eyes darken in appreciation for the topic, causing my asshole to pucker at the insinuation. “Shall we move on to the root of the power exchange?” Samuel inclines his best “how about it” mug in my direction, Steve and Ben struggle to keep straight faces as they curl back up on the couch together.

“Yes, Sir.” I smirk. I loved getting him ramped up, even if I secretly was enjoying learning about this new world, it was impossible to resist egging him on. The way the corner of his mouth lifts slightly, I can tell that he knows exactly what I am up to. Then again, he knew me all too well.

“You already know the gist of the power exchange well, with my many rants and all. But, it is important to understand that there are different levels that couples practice on. It has to fit the relationship being formed as well as the individuals involved. Some engage in total power exchange or TPE as we call it or they scale the level of the power exchange based on what fits the needs of all involved. Once you find someone who you vibe well with, and you decided to play regularly together, you can also decide together if you want a 24/7 lifestyle or just during play time.”

“Wait, like live together and play Dom-sub 24/7?” The simple thought of a relationship makes me panic and shiver, let alone an intense one like that!

Samuel senses my unease and can’t help but laugh again. “Yes, baby girl, some do grow up and put away childish things to engage in committed relationships.”

“No offense to the lover boys, but no-fucking-thank-you.” My chest gets red and splotchy just from talking about it.

“None taken, Sor. Someday, though, someone will be brave enough to try and manhandle your commitment-phobe attitude and make you change your mind,” Ben laughs.

“Yeah, that will be the day!” I hold up my glass in a ‘cheers’ fashion and wink at Samuel. His master plan of getting me into that club to hopefully find my way is going to lead him to a big letdown.

Chapter 3

Sorcha

After hanging the last of my films to dry and heading back to my little studio flat, I smile at what might be waiting for me tomorrow as I traipse down the busy, crowded city streets. I had traversed around Chinatown for these new beauties, catching everyday life through my lens as folks went about their business. My style is realism with a preferred focus to shoot abstract images of people interacting with their environments, unsuspecting and candid. It is like spying into a fragmented window of their lives, capturing and eternally suspending it to tell a story. Storytelling in this medium is a therapeutic life’s calling in a sense, from the capture of each moment down to selecting, sizing, processing, and mounting each piece. My mind escapes the social confines that typically bog down members of society when I am in the zone, transcending me to a space in time that is purely euphoric. I’ve been told that my passion and inner awakening that takes place while I engage in my photography shows in my work; something that makes me smile and say thank you though I don’t see it. It is simply what I do because of the drive and selfish desire to do it. To express that in which needs to be expressed, void of a need to prove anything to anyone. Photography and art in general can tell an entire story in one single snapshot or frame. Whether that piece is translated into joy, humor, pain, a life lesson, a foretelling… is really up to the beholder. Art is subjective, one of the many reasons why it easily became a passion.

Tonight is also the night I am supposed to meet Samuel, Molly, Ben and Steve down at the Velvet Rope for the new recruit mixer. Even though I dragged my feet all day and tried out a few excuses to get out of it, Samuel wasn’t having it. He even called an hour ago to let me know that he was swinging by to pick me up at eight sharp, and would come fully prepared to hogtie me and drag me if I tried to dodge out of it. Rummaging through my slutty assortment of threads, I attempt to put something together that meets the club’s dress code. Looks like this girl will be settling on an emerald brocade corset, black mini skirt, fishnets, and black, knee-high boots. After squeezing into everything and quickly pin-curling my long, brown hair, I finish my makeup in time to hear my door buzzer.

“Well, well, well. If I was straight, I would tie you up and spank that pretty, pale little ass of yours all night. That green corset with your big green eyes is a heart-stopping combo, pet.” Samuel whistles in appreciation while gently taking my hand and spinning my body around in appreciation.

“Back in character for the night, Samuel?” I sass.

“Have to play the part. Or should I say, I play a part most of the time but now I get to be me.”

“Ha-ha. Great. Then that must mean you made good on those handcuffs tucked in your pocket,” I reply, dryly. He pulls them out and lets them hang on a finger as he swings them back and forth in a taunting fashion. “Jesus, put them away. I’m coming!” I yelp before shooing him towards the couch to wait.

Running back to the powder room, I take my hair down and side-sweep the waves in a vintage fashion. After relieving myself for what will probably be the last time for a few hours as there is no way in hell I am wrestling this combo in a potty stall, my nervous feet carry me back to Samuel.

“All right, Master Z, will you please escort me?” The flippancy in my tone is hard to cover.

“Nice try, your attitude seeps through your every word. Twenty dollars says you get spanked for misconduct within thirty minutes of stepping through the doors,” Samuel sniggers and gives me a playful swat on the butt, eliciting a squeak from me.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence!”

“Anything to help.” I playfully smack him on the shoulder as I lock up and pull my knee-length trench coat around tighter against the definite chill in the air.

We pull up to the club, hopping out of the cab to join the others waiting in a huddle by the door.

“About time!” Molly huffs as she opens the door and greets the guard standing just inside. We crowd in from the damp and biting fall air and are waved through immediately to the reception desk. There are about ten people ahead of us, getting checked in.

“Is there a coatroom?” Molly turns to finally get a proper look at me as the tie on my coat slips away.

“I can’t believe you even dressed up! Yes, the next room has a coat check. Past that is the bar and main viewing room with a center stage. The dungeon is a level below that,” Molly excitedly explains as we advance forward.

“Ah, baby, I can’t believe you are doing this for me.” Steven jubilantly whispers into Ben’s ear as he leans into his husband, as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. They are too damn cute; it almost makes me want a partner… but not quite.

We step up to the podium; Sapphire is once again working the front.

“Welcome back. So glad you could join us. I trust Master Z taught you well?” Sapphire’s blue eyes dazzle in genuine hospitality.

“Yes, he is quite an effective instructor,” I mock, shutting my mouth when registering the horror in her eyes at my disrespect and hearing Samuel suck in a quick breath. “I apologize; it’s my nerves. He is very good at his job,” I cover with sincerity, suddenly ashamed that she was offended. Nice, haven’t even made it through the damn door before ticking someone off.

“Thank you. Please enjoy yourselves this evening and feel free to inquire about membership should you wish to come back. Front doors lock at eleven, and no one else is allowed in. If you leave after that time, re-admittance will not be permitted. The club itself has last call at one thirty and closes at two. Weekends have longer hours,” she says, quickly recovering with a curt reply and ushering us through the third door where another guard lurks. Out of the corner of my peripheral, Samuel momentarily hangs back and puts the charm on thick, smoothing things over with Sapphire. Didn’t I warn them it was a bad idea to bring me here?

We enter through into a plush lounge with a coatroom off to the side after sliding past the intense doorman. Many couples are lingering around the area, deeply engaged in conversations as they arrange for what I am guessing are their scenes from what I learned at Samuels little 101 session. In this room, members can establish recovery suites or specific desires for their scenes with the staff. This ‘staging’ area also proves to be a quieter and less distracting area to have intimate conversations without the distracting cries of pleasure in the background wavering your resolve, something those new to the lifestyle sometimes prefer. Many conveniences are provided so that each individual can custom their experience. It is quite cush in here.

“Wow, Sor… I mean, L, nice outfit.” Molly mouths another ‘I’m sorry.’

“Thank you, Rose,” I briskly reply. If I don’t give my name up to most of the people I work with, I sure as hell don’t want it thrown around here. Molly’s frequent slip of the tongue shows that she is still learning how to discreetly weave her two lives together.

“Come on then! He’s waiting for us at the bar.” Molly hurries off through the last swinging door that leads to what I assume is the bar. Ben and Steve scamper after her, thoroughly excited to get an eyeful. From what I understand, having a bar that serves liquor is not always common in a BDSM club as they don’t want anything to impede on one’s decision making abilities. This is a completely consensual environment and everyone participating should be of right mind to make those decisions. Exceptions, however, were made here, especially on nights like tonight and with many rules as well as monitoring in place. Not to mention, the airtight waiver one has to sign upon registration and the background check. Any alcohol or substance charges like a DUI or any sexual misconduct charge on one’s record automatically disqualifies them from membership. A drink or two was allowed if you were not planning to scene, bartenders and waitresses kept track of every beverage. No drinks are allowed to leave the small bar area and dungeon monitors will not hesitate to throw you out if they even suspect someone to be inebriated. Breathalyzers are also kept on hand from what I hear, and no other mind-altering substances are allowed. Break the rules and your membership is revoked without a second thought. Most didn’t even risk it and saved their libations for after playtime. As we near the door that has already swallowed up our friends, I grab Samuel’s arm and hold him back a sec.

“I know you want to play tonight. Please have a drink with me first and let me acclimate before everyone pairs off and I am the lone duck out.”

“I plan to hang around and pose as your Master, L. If I leave you at the bar, alone, looking the way you do, a cocky new Dom will undoubtedly sweep in and try to push you into something you may not be ready for. This is an exclusive club, but there are scoundrels who can’t be trusted just as anywhere else.” I smile, thankful for his friendship. We interlace arms and head to catch up with our friends.

Nearing the bar, we spy Molly standing next to a tall, lean man who honestly looks like he would be more comfortable behind a computer attempting to hack something or build a masterful program.

“Master Gibson, these are my friends. Ben and his husband Steve, L, and you already know Master Z,” Molly chirps while casting affectionate looks back at her apparent new master.

“Lovely for you all to join us. Rose has been quite infatuating. It seems only natural to meet her friends as I can’t seem to tear myself from her.” He adoringly caresses her chin and I see her body respond to him immediately. Well, there is someone for everyone, and these two fit together oddly well.

“Master, may I have permission to have a drink with them?” Molly asks as she casts her eyes down respectfully. Seeing Molly in this form is going to take some getting used to.

“Of course, pet. I have a table waiting for us.” Gibson motions to a round booth.

As we follow him, a balding, elderly man most likely in his sixties, dressed out in leathers, walks by in ass-less chaps, pulling a very curvy submissive along who is all but naked except for her thong. That is a new sight. Not that it is offensive in anyway; I just need a minute to let it settle. This all is going to take a minute to get used to.

After a round of drinks has been set out for us, Gibson and Samuel quickly fall into a club-driven political conversation. Samuel has always been quite passionate on the topic and it rarely took much for him to hop up on his soap box.

Molly leans into me once those two are well ensconced. “So, what’s your opinion so far?” She is eager for a positive assessment from me as her eyes dance in anticipation.

“It is…” I trail off. My blinders have been on since we left the coatroom, and I hadn’t allowed myself to fully open up to the sights and sounds laid out before me. The variety of body types and pairings were oddly liberating as well as comforting. Most were dressed for their roles, but I found myself attempting to picture them in their normal, everyday lives─ librarian, teacher, cop, nurse, business-type folks─ this wasn’t just a playground for the rich.

From what Samuel has told me, there is an array of folks from all walks of life who participate in the lifestyle. This club has a very good mix despite the fee’s as many are willing to pay in order to have a home that provides what they desire as well as a safe and supportive atmosphere.

The flow of patrons range from young, cocky things who have tight asses all the way to the more fluffy, and right on up to older couples who still practice the lifestyle despite gravity and sun having taken effect. Combinations of couplings were vast and not bound by gender expectations or limited by set numbers. This place is the very definition of sexuality and how it is as vast as there are people. And I haven’t even begun to attempt to take in what everyone is doing.

A long and lithe woman in her fifties, who is dressed in a tight, floor-length, lace dress strolls into my line of sight, walking her younger male submissive. The young man is on leash as well as down on all fours, proudly prancing next to his mistress as they approach a bistro set in front of us. She calmly sits and places her feet upon his back like a footrest as if it is simply another Sunday afternoon. The sounds of pleasure thickening in the air with the cacophony of snaps from whips and cries of pleasure began to register and lock me into their heady call as I move to absorb more. “Interesting,” I absently respond to the fervent Molly at my side.

“No, I mean about my Dom,” Molly impatiently snaps my attention back to her. Oh right, her new man. Honestly, he isn’t whom I expected at all. Not that I really knew what to expect. But all through high school and college, Molly had only dated jocks. She is a gorgeous redhead with the body of a model and brains to boot. It would seem more fitting that she end up with one of the thicker, muscle-bound gentleman here based on past tastes.

“He’s not your typical cup of tea but you seem happy, so that is all that matters.” Shifting in my seat, I attempt to pay better attention to her and not the visual feast around us. The sexual freedom here is intoxicating.

“I know, but the connection is unreal. It is also nice to be with someone who I don’t feel like I have to tone down my brain for. I can be myself.” Her cheeks deepen in color as she divulges what she might of thought was a secret, having finally admitted the jocks were no good for her.