The Story of Simon

1: Kate and Simon at the fetish ball

London, 1998

Kate waits in a corner of the room, watching the crowd. The music is blaring, the base line thumping. The bright lights flashing in the darkness overwhelm her senses, raising her excitement as she anticipates what the evening might hold.

She scans the room. Some of the outfits are amazing – latex, leather, silk, feathers, spikes and chains. Everything from full period costume to body paint and piercings. Everyone has made an effort to look their best. The dress code is strictly enforced, of course, but people have gone above and beyond the requirements.

She tugs at the hem of her mini skirt, and straightens the straps of her top. She feels underdressed compared to the beautiful, artistically costumed people milling around her. Her heels are already making her feet ache, but she is damned if she's going to sit down this early. Not before she's found a Dom to take her to the play room.

Looking around she realises that most people are here in pairs, come to play together. The ones who are on their own are mostly submissives. There will be a lot of competition. Any Dominant without a play partner will have their pick. Kate is determined she won't waste the ticket price on night limited to drinking and dancing, watching others get led away to be tied up and whipped. Tonight she is going to find a Dom, and she is going to go home sore, bruised and satisfied. The pain from her shoes is a promise of what is to come.

Simon picks his way through the throng, trying not to spill the drinks. His leather trousers feel sticky and hot. He wears a borrowed mesh top. It makes him feel exposed, even though he is surrounded by people wearing much less. He isn't used to being shirtless, and the material doesn't leave much to the imagination. His long blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail, but still sticks to his skin. He feels awkward here, out of place and out of his comfort zone. Attending a small town kink club was scant preparation for this festival of decadence.

Even attending that club had been a complete shock. It had been his first time at a BDSM event, and he'd spent the whole evening propping up a wall, keeping out of the way and trying not to stare at the bodies of the half naked women being led around on leashes. This time he is less paralysed, but he still feels overawed by simple submersion in this exotic environment.

As he weaves across the room, he begins to notice more details. The tight laced corsets, the platform shoes, the body jewellery, the extravagant makeup. The skin tight latex, and the amazing sculptured clothes, almost architectural in the way they project out from their bearers. Not just the clothes, but the accessories too, the collars and wrist cuffs, whips clipped to belts, the less-than-subtle hints at dominance and cruelty.

Threading through the crowd, he keeps his gaze low, and tries not to bump into anyone. He still feels embarrassed being amongst these people. Embarrassed at the sight of so many individuals being open about their sexualities and their preferences for all things kinky. Not only open but proud, completely comfortable and unashamed about something which he has hidden for so long. Something he has thought about in private, but never dared act out. At least, not in public. Not outside the secrecy of the bedroom, and only then after a lot of encouragement from his girlfriend. His now ex-girlfriend.

And that would have been the end of it, if Simon hadn't drunk too much one night, and over shared with Kate about his last relationship. Kate, who gleefully poured him another drink and plied him for more information. Kate, who put him out of his misery by sharing her own confession – that she shares his preference for a little sexual submission. Kate, who told him about the BDSM club scene, and who persuaded him to join her at Mistress Alannah's fetish ball. Kate, who arranged the tickets before worrying he might freak out, and insisted he "work up to it" by attending a regular club first.

That was two months ago. He would never have come to somewhere like this without her encouragement. Hell, he would never have known about somewhere like this.

Tonight was in a different league from the local club. Firstly, there was a stage show, which opened the event. Simon loved watching Mistress Alannah perform. The fire breathing, the dance like movements of the Dommes, the line of slaves being tortured for the crowd's entertainment. The Mistress herself commanding events with a whip in one hand and a flaming torch in the other, leading her cohort in subjecting their slaves to a range of painful and degrading punishments. He knew it was all choreographed of course, the special effects pre planned and the slaves willing. But the pain was real. The submission was real. Watching it had cast a spell on him. Some kind of erotic hypnosis, stirring his imagination as much as his body. Watching this strong and beautiful creature who demanded acts of worship from the lesser souls who readily knelt at her feet.

"Everyone's a little bit in love with Mistress Alannah", Kate laughed at him, "that's why they pay silly money for the privilege of visiting her to serve as her slave."

Simon has never seen a pro-Domme before. She certainly seems terrifying. He tries to imagine what it would be like to visit her. Not that he would ever be that brave, let alone have the spare cash to afford her tribute rates.

No, he is happy hiding in the anonymity of the crowd, simply getting used to the idea that places like this actually exist. It is enough of a thrill just to be here, amongst the fetish players, watching and learning. Since the show ended, the audience has spread out into the rest of the event space – drinking at the bar, filling the dance floor, pairing up and heading off together to make use of the bondage equipment provided in the infamous play room.

Oh God, the play room. Simon's stomach flipped to think of it.

He peered into it on his way to the bar, but didn't dare set foot inside. One glimpse of the whipping bench, the St Andrews cross, the ropes, cages, and the array of paddles, whips and canes had been enough to send him scurrying to get the drinks.

And yet... despite the fear, some part of him still wants to explore every last piece of equipment in that room. Such a strange feeling, the conflict of desires between wanting to be tied down and controlled, but still being petrified of the idea.

Perhaps, he admits to himself, he is most afraid that the reality will not match the fantasies he holds. What if it's disappointing? What if he can't take the pain? Or freaks out and makes a fool of himself, in front of the whole of the London scene.

Still, he would like to try it. In the right circumstance, with the right person. Just in case it is as wonderful, and as pleasurable as he imagines. That's the real reason he allowed Kate to persuade him to come along. Allowed her to convince him that he will not be disappointed, if only he summons up the courage to approach someone and speak out his shy desires to negotiate a scene. Kate should know, she has done it many times before. She says it gets easier. That you just have to take the first step. It almost seems possible.

Yes, perhaps tonight he will be brave enough. To let go and submit to someone. To allow them to tie him, and play with him, and do all those glorious things he'd glimpsed through the door of that play room.