The music was deafening. Seemed like it just became louder and louder with each step I took into the area. Everyone was either bobbing to it or yelling in each other's ears, all the flirtatious little pickup lines they could think of. It bored me. Perplexed me even. This was meant to be "the party of the century" and I was promised it would be worth it this time, but it was just a BDSM party that I could have gone without as usual. It was the same as it always was. People grinding up against each other. Some of the younger ones didn't seem to know what to do but must have been curious enough to check it out for themselves. Maybe they were invited by friends.
Newer ones were bratting where they shouldn't. I had two young women try it with me, but I couldn't deal with something like that, with people who just couldn't respect those around them. I'd had my fair share of Subs, and Doms, who didn't respect boundaries. I recognized a few people here and there; many I didn't enjoy being around because consent was thrown out the window at parties like this. Even with new moderation, the same bullshit kept on happening. I forced my way through the crowd and towards the locker rooms, hopefully, there was a bathroom I could use to wash up and leave. The party was being hosted in some sort of indoor sports stadium, so surely it'd be back here somewhere.
As I enter the locker room closest to me, I spot two men standing idly near one of the benches and look around the corner of the first set of lockers. A younger person sits at the end of the bench, back up against the wall. I'm not entirely sure whether they're male or female, or maybe I am correct in thinking genderless. They were wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and enclosed, simple slip-on shoes. A red and black plaid button-up shirt with some sort of red overcoat covers their upper half. A plain black beanie sits atop their head. I can see tufts of brown hair escaping from underneath it. My eyes drifted back to the shirt and spotted a pronoun pin, just making out he/him written on it.
With his back against the wall, it meant his legs were spread with the bench in between. He looked worried, his eyes open wide, staring between each of the men in front of him. I watched as he attempted to push his legs together, clearly getting more uncomfortable by the second. My eyes flashed towards the men, noticing their stance. They were standing up straight and staring the poor young man down. A clear sign of intimidation. These men had been at parties like this before, preying on younger people. Attempting to sway the newer submissives to join them in some of the more dangerous activities.
"Don't be so worried, Little One," the taller of the men said. "We just want to show you some tricks."
"He seems scared," the other chuckled. "We won't hurt you."
The young man didn't speak at all. I watched as he gulped. His lips parted but nothing audible came out. The taller man stepped forward and the young man raised his hands defensively, shaking his head. His bottom lip quivered at the advance. My eyes were drawn to the other man who had stayed where he was. His hands were in his pockets. He appeared to be toying with something in one of them. A knife maybe?
My eyes went back to the young man. He had begun writing in a notepad I hadn't noticed before. Surprisingly, the men were waiting patiently, somewhat amused by what they were witnessing by the smirks that crossed their faces. I knew men like this, why did they wait? Was this the only way they were going to get him to struggle? If they make it seem like they're willing to be patient, maybe he wouldn't be as much of a problem for them. I should say something.
"'Friend brought me here. Not interested please.'," the man read from the paper. "That's too bad, we just want to have some fun."
I step forward at those words, not taking no for an answer made me seethe. Consent will always be key in any form of relationship, and I won't stand by while someone's hurt.
"Leave him alone," I said sternly. "He's with me."
The men turned quickly, staring me down instead now. One of them clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he considered the best course of action. I could see them playing out scenarios in their head. There was only one of me, but I hoped my standing in the community was well-known and that they backed off simply based on that. Recognition eventually flashed across the shorter man's face, and he leaned over to the other man. Hushed words were exchanged. He tugged on the taller man's jacket in an attempt to remove themselves from the situation they had caused in the first place.
"Come on," he said simply.
"Fine," the other said gruffly. "If he's left alone again though... We'll be here, understood? Take better care of your things."
"I'll let him do whatever he pleases," I replied angrily.
As the men left, I looked over at the young man. His eyes were still wide, but at least he appeared less frightened. More relaxed perhaps. His hands were clutching his notepad still, and I wondered why he might need such a thing. I raised my hands as he had earlier, taking steps forward slowly. Maybe if I could show I meant no harm, I could sit and talk with him for a little. If he's interested in this community, he may need a helping hand.
"I genuinely mean you no harm, I just want to..." I stopped for a moment, thinking of the right word. "Talk?" Not the right word, clearly, but, I guess it was good enough.
His body relaxed once more as his shoulders dropped down but hunch over, balling himself up a little more. His eyes looked me over. Trailing down my body and taking me in. I hoped that he wouldn't think me scary, or maybe too much stronger and bigger than him. I wasn't here to scare him off after all, but I didn't know what else to do to prove to him that I meant what I said. As I watch him eye me, I imagine what I must look like to him. My black hair was fluffy and brushed back, though it looked like I'd just stepped out of bed since I was in a bit of a hurry to get here in the end. My blue eyes focused on his brown ones. I was wearing a pair of black dress trousers with a white button-up shirt and a deep blue jacket over the top. I wondered what he was thinking, what he might see in me. Did I seem scary? Maybe kind? Did he want me to leave?
I didn't want to leave until I could make sure he was safe, and he had someone who could take him home or away. I sat at the opposite end of the bench, giving him enough space to work with if he did decide to leave. I stayed silent for a bit, looking at him again. He was shy and worried. His shoulders were still hunched over, though thankfully not in fear. The grip on his notebook hadn't changed despite his posture mostly relaxing. His eyes were rather focused on mine now as if trying to decide something. He swallowed then started writing again. When he finished, he held it out hesitantly.
Hi. I'm Aidan. I'm sorry you had to help me there...
"I'm sorry?" I repeated with a smile. "I think the words you want are thank you."
You didn't have to...
"No is a full sentence," I pointed to where he had written 'not interested'. "A 'no' in any form must be respected. Unless circumstances require a safe word instead."
His cheeks flushed. I could see the pink marks over his face, reaching up to the tips of his ears. He looked down at his notepad, fiddling around with it. I admit to myself that his shyness is appealing in some way. That he was quite adorable and the things I would do to him made me smirk, given I had permission. My tongue slides over my bottom lip as I imagined what would happen, allowing myself a moment of being lost in my thoughts. He shifts in his seat, writing again. I stop myself from my imagination before I make either one of us uncomfortable, and clear my throat.
"My name is Gabriel. Why are you here?" I asked as I remembered the rest of his earlier writing. "You don't seem to quite... fit in. Though I guess, maybe your friend does?"
He held out his pad, his original writing crossed out and in its place; I was curious, but a friend brought me along. I immediately hid in here. Thought I'd be safe. And I rarely talk so didn't think I'd be missed. I'm nonverbal, most of the time.
"Never been to something like this before, huh?" I asked.
Nonverbal, huh? Did something happen to him? I wanted more information. I longed to see whether he would be interested in doing something like this, having some kind of a dynamic or simply an interest in learning. Surprisingly, I hoped it would be something with me even. He certainly didn't have to, but if he was curious, I was willing to help.
Never. I have wanted to, but my last two partners were very vanilla. So, never until tonight.
"Not the best experience though," I added on, and he nodded.
You seem nice though.
I smiled at him. To my surprise, he finally smiled back. And what a sweet smile it was too. I didn't have enough time to admire it when he started writing again. His pad held up to me afterwards, his eyebrows knitting together.
I have a question. Those men said something that didn't make sense... it was just letters.
"I should be able to help," I tilted my head to the side, genuinely curious.
I could only imagine the types of things they said they were going to do to him. Normally it was just the usual 'we will tie you down and fuck you until we're satisfied' drivel. His hand hesitates on the paper. Soon the pen starts moving and he holds it out.
What's CNC? I understood everything else. Like the rope stuff and gagging. I just don't know those letters together.
I was the one to swallow this time. They had tried to pretend it would be consensual.
"Please understand that's not what would have happened with them," I started to explain. "CNC stands for consensual non-consent. A scene is played out as if you were being forced to do whatever act was discussed prior. Struggling, and saying 'no' or 'stop' is often involved, but people have their own various ways of playing out the scene and safe words are put in place, so we all know when to stop if it's needed before the scene ends. But, again, they were not going to do the first part, they didn't want to gain your consent in the first place."
He nodded as I explained the term. He seemed interested in the topic, but I wasn't going to push it further for now. CNC could be a dangerous thing to do if you weren't fully informed and knew what each other would do during it. Certainly not an act for beginners, though it's quite a common one. After I finished talking, he held out the paper again. Do you like it? I hesitated, not wanting to scare him. There was that fear again. If I said something out of turn, he might rush out and I'd never see him again. Eventually, I nodded. It wasn't like I'd be doing it right this second with him.
Explain a full scenario with you? You can use me as an example since we're here.
"I don't know if you'd like that," I shook my head.
Though it was technically permission, I wasn't sure about it. Even if I was just explaining it, if it meant the possibility of upsetting him, I didn't want to take that chance. I did question it in my mind, however. What did he want out of knowing my fantasies though? Did he have a similar one? Did he want to do it?
I give permission.
I looked him over closely. I watched for any form of hesitation or fear in his face or demeanour. He still appeared shy but at least he had relaxed enough that his shoulders had lowered completely, his head hung low, looking up at me through curious eyes.
"Stop me when you get uncomfortable," I said as I thought out a scenario.
There were so many I'd had before. So many that I'd actually been able to do also. My eyes darted to his paper. If. That was all he wrote. I raised an eyebrow. He was a strange one to me. Despite his shyness, he seemed to know what he wanted. Even if this was just talking, I didn't want to upset him. Oh. It dawned on me that I knew nothing about what he wanted. What if I said something that made him uncomfortable?
"Do me a favour first?" I requested.
He nodded, waiting for my next words.
"Write out what you'd want to try. You said you'd only been in vanilla-type relationships, but I don't want to say anything to make you uncomfortable."
How would I know?
"Even if you haven't done anything, you can still process certain acts in your head. Things that make you uncomfortable, things that intrigue you, or things that you'd consider with the right person."
He nodded slowly as usual, processing what I'd said. He began to rummage through his pocket and pulled out a multi colored pen and I chuckled softly to myself. I hoped he didn't hear me, it wasn't anything he'd done that was bad, it was just an interesting choice to want to use the different colours. I read the words upside down for a little bit, seeing him put down RED, GREEN, and BLUE. Red was the negatives, Green was more of a positive maybe, and Blue appeared to be the 'maybe if it was with the right person' pile.
He wrote slowly, his eyes moving over the paper repeatedly as he thought. He was very careful and considered quite a bit more information than I thought he would. I noticed the paper filling up nicely. Interesting. His knowledge surprised me; I'll give him that. He looked over the lists a final time and then held it out. As I took the notepad, my finger glided over his. I watched him twitch and pull his hand back, laying them atop his lap. His eyes averted mine and stared down at his hands. I lower my eyes to the page.
"I like how you kept it colour coded," I commented, glancing up. "A lot of people tend to use a colour system for safe words too."
The small praise made him smile brighter. He was playing with his fingers and still refused to look at me, so I turned my eyes back to the list, reading over it.
GREEN : Restraints, Shibari, Praise, Choking, Vibrators/Toys, Roleplay, Wax
BLUE : Voyeurism/Public Space, CNC, Impact Play
RED : Certain Bodily Fluids/Spitting (especially), Degradation (maybe), Breeding
"Interesting list," I said softly, handing him the pad back. The green was definitely some of the softer things, while the blue was a bit more experienced. Red was still small though, he probably didn't know enough to have a bigger list of things he did or didn't like. "Want to tell me more about the ones in red, it's a small one. Though, I guess you don't know every aspect of BDSM."
He takes the pad and starts writing. His eyes were still kept down, but at least it was only so he could write instead of avoiding me. I found myself sliding forward, closer to him. He flinched. Fuck, that wasn't my intention.
"I'm sorry, is this okay?" I asked quickly. Fuck, please be okay.
He relaxed right after I asked, nodding his head, so I stayed where I was. Our knees were barely touching, but at least we were closer now.
Most bodily fluids make me feel sick. I wouldn't do scat or watersports. But spitting I know is a common one, and I don't want to be spat on. Blood is also a bit iffy for me, I think, but depending on what that meant, might be okay. Personal reason... But I might consider it, based on the person.
I wouldn't mind being called certain things, but I don't want to be dehumanised or made to feel bad/negative. I might like some degradation and humiliation if I felt good after, maybe? Or maybe depending on the situation.
And breeding just makes me uncomfortable... Very dysphoric.
He watched me read and gestured to his pronoun pin when I looked up. I nodded in understanding. My knee brushed against his for a split second by accident, as I stretched out, and he didn't move this time, but I noted his eyes flicker towards it before looking back at me.
"I'm not trying to sway you with what I'm about to say about each of them," I began and continued with his nod of approval. "I'm also not that into anything you've said about bodily fluids, for the most part. And the idea of degrading a submissive by spitting on them is not appealing to me but I see the want for it. I at least understand it, I mean. I will get to the verbal degrading but the last one, the breeding one. There can be more to it than simply wishing to breed or impregnate the participant."
He cocked his head to the side. Confused.
"Having the ability to release your load inside the participant, even if there's no possibility of pregnancy can get people off too," I explained. "It's sometimes more the act of knowing your seed is inside them or feeling your partner's seed deep inside you. It's not always called 'breeding', but the name is there."
He nodded, seemingly understanding what I meant. It was more about the possessiveness or ownership type of deal. I hoped I managed to explain that well enough.
He held out the pad; So, if you didn't want to wear a condom and I consented to you cumming inside me rather than on me, that would technically be participating in that kink? You don't have to call it 'breeding' though?
"Exactly," I smiled. "And as for the degrading. Do you think maybe you'd be more okay if it was more praise than demeaning? Like if I said, during a scene, of course," I clicked my tongue as I thought carefully. "'You're such a good little slut for Daddy'. Would that be better than something along the lines of, 'You're just a needy little whore, needing to be filled'?"
His cheeks darkened at my words. I can see the pink tones shifting into red. I hoped I didn't make him too uncomfortable, if I even made him uncomfortable at all. He didn't seem to be upset by either phrasing. Though, his body straightened up against the wall. His eyes stared into mine. I can't help but smirk though. I leaned in, feeling his breath against my lips. My eyes scanned over his face. I wish I could kiss you. Maybe I should ask? I wasn't sure where I was going with it. My mouth opened and the words just slipped out.
"Are you okay, Little One?" I asked.
He nodded slowly, shyly. Oh, the things I wanted to do. I'd already crossed a line though, calling him 'Little One'. I didn't have that permission and he wasn't mine. I breathe out a sigh. I enjoyed being this close. But I knew it wasn't right, so I leaned back.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be calling you anything but Aidan," I acknowledged, my eyes drifting downwards. "You're not mine, after all, I'm just educating. I'm sure you have more questions."
"That's okay."
My eyes flicked back up to his. I felt my eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. I had heard that, right? He had spoken. I searched his face for confirmation. He seemed as shocked as I. Talk to me. Please.
"I-," he began.
"Yes?" I pushed softly. Maybe he only talked when he felt safe? I am safe, Aidan. I promise.
"It's okay," he whispered. "You can call me anything you want."
His eyes went down to his pad, and he held it out. Sorry was all it said.
"Why are you sorry?" I asked as my hands moved to his waist, and I moved in as close as I could. His legs went over the tops of my thighs. My crotch was almost pressed right into his, but I didn't want to worry him. All this talk had made me hard, my imagination running too wild. "Your voice is perfect."
His smile widened, though I didn't see it for long as he laid his head on my chest to hide his face. I chuckled at the view. Before I could do or say anything more, I heard a noise from the entryway into the locker room and a voice followed.
"Aidan! You in here?"
Aidan turned his head but didn't move it from my chest. He breathed in deeply, releasing a sigh. He knew this woman, perhaps? A woman around his age turned the corner. She wore a long red, strapless dress. The fabric hit the floor but covered her curves expertly. Her hair was tied up in a neat, braided bun. The look on her face said she was ready to fight, however. And I believe I was that target.
"What the fuck are you doing to my friend?!" she yelled.
I was that target, indeed. Aidan quickly held up his notepad, looking at her properly this time.
"He's fine?" she read questioningly. "You don't know the fucker. He probably just wants to hurt you or something."
"If I may," I began before she cut me off.
"No, no you may not!" she yelled directly at me. A moment of recognition crossed her face. She knew me. "Get your hands off him!"
"Of course," I said
I removed my hands and held them up as I had earlier as I stood from the bench. Aidan followed me up. He held out a folded note to me. His smile remained on his face as he looked at me. His friend leaned over and grabbed his sleeve, yanking him over to her.
"If that is fucking all," she glared at me. "We're leaving."
"It was a pleasure, Aidan," I smirked. Goodbye, sweet man. You made my night interesting.
He rubbed one of his arms awkwardly, nodding to me in acknowledgement. He mouthed the words "thank you" before leaving. I turned my attention to the note and unfolded it. I smirked wider as I read what was on it; Thank you for saving me. I'm sorry about her though, she's overly protective. I'm staying at 52 Baker Ave, Islington. I'd like to learn more.
Hmm, he lived next door.