Kink Me - Initiate Me

Content Labels: Kink & BDSM, Nudity

“I know this is your first scene, so we’ll take it slowly, and we can stop at any time, okay?” he says.

I don’t know how to do this. Negotiations, they call it. I don’t know how to answer the questions he asks about what I want and don’t want, where my boundaries are. But I know I want to Do A Thing. I want to be a part of this new world I’ve found, this BDSM community. Kink. I blush just to say the world, but that’s not going to stop me.

This is my first visit to a BDSM club, and I’ve met so many interesting people already. And yet, it feels like Home. This place, these people, feel familiar to me right away. There’s a sense of comfort with one another that I’m not accustomed to seeing in most places. We were all watching a movie together, and it seemed like everyone was touching someone else, with a sense of familiarity and comfort. A head on a shoulder here, a hand on a knee there. 

And now one of these people, this attractive man, has offered to guide me through my first scene. He’s shown me a few of his tools, his ‘toys’ as he calls them, and picked out just one to set out. “We’ll use it if you’re comfortable, and we’ll leave it sitting if you’re not,” he says. We talk about the concept of safewords, and the general flow of a scene.

He leads me to a corner of the playspace where we can play, a darker area where no one is hanging out. I can see some other people scattered about the place, generally in couples, but no one’s paying attention to us. A member of the staff wanders by and visually checks in every now and then, but it’s subtle - and reassuring. 

I’m not comfortable getting undressed, even though I see others doing so. “That’s fine,” he says. “You don’t have to undress unless you want to. May I ask you later about taking off some clothing?” I agree he can. The fact that he asked makes me feel better about the possibility. He starts by having me straddle a chair so that he can massage my neck and shoulders. Certainly a good way to get things started. I’ll rarely turn down any kind of massage. And my shirt comes off pretty quickly to give him access. I mean, I’m still wearing a bra… “Very nice,” he comments, taking a casual but obvious look at the cleavage now exposed, and I actually blush a little. He starts to rub on me again.

Once I’m nice and relaxed, he asks me to stand, leaning forward against some kind of railing sitting here in the corner. He puts a blanket over it so I don’t feel the cold metal against my skin, and I just casually lean against it. He keeps rubbing. At some point he put a glove on the hand he’s using to rub on me. It’s soft and warm and soothing. He’s left my shoulders now and is rubbing my bottom, gently gripping each cheek from time to time, sometimes reaching down to rub on my hips and thighs. 

His other arm is wrapped around my shoulders, gently holding me against him. I can smell him, just a slight hint of soap and skin. He’s murmuring in my ear. “You are super sexy and I’m really enjoying making you feel good. You have an amazing ass and it feels so good in my hand.” Not used to hearing those sorts of things, and relaxed from the massaging, I feel all floaty and calm.

“I’m going to start patting your bottom, just some gentle taps,” he says. I just hum a ‘yes’ sort of a sound at him, but that’s not enough. “Do you want me to do that?” he asks. 

“Yes,” I say, and nod my head against him, as well. And he begins. I expected it to be a shock, but it wasn’t. Instead of his gloved hand rubbing and squeezing my bottom, he just lightly spanks it. The impact feels nice, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s just more sensation. He moves all around my bottom, first one side, then the other. Never over my tailbone and never very high. Just the parts I sit on. And it feels… really nice. 

“This would feel better on bare skin,” he tells me. “Would you feel comfortable taking off your pants?” I don’t answer him; I just reach down and push my pants down. They’re practically leggings, and I don’t think they’ve been hiding much of the feeling. But if he thinks they’d be better off, I am ready to find out.

And of course he was right. The patting… okay, let’s call it what it is at this point… the spanking on my bottom feels so much better over panties and the bare skin they expose. The difference between his gloved hand spanking me and his bare hand rubbing the skin between hits is intoxicating. I didn’t even notice when he let go of me, and now I’m draped across the bar in front of me, clutching the blanket. His skin is warmer than the glove, and the skin on my bottom is warm, too. Very warm, I realize. The impacts start to blend into one another, coming close enough together that I never quite finish feeling one before I start feeling the next. I realize he’s using two hands now, picking up a rhythm, matching the music I hear. I find myself swaying a little to the beat. The beat of his spanking or of the music? I don’t suppose it really matters, as long as he continues.

The song changes again, and he leans in close to me, just rubbing as the new rhythm is established. “Now I’m going to add in the crop,” he says. “Nod your head if that’s okay.” What’s a crop? Oh, right, that stick he showed me earlier, with the little leather flap on the end. I nod several times, making sure he can see I’m down for… whatever that thing is.

Where he’s been tapping my bottom with his hand, I now feel a difference. The sound is sharper, crisper. And the way it feels is crisper, too, somehow. Like a bright line of light defining the way I feel the hit. Sound, impact, light - everything I’m processing is getting mixed up in my brain. There’s so many little hits, tap-tap-tapping all over my bottom and thighs. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s very intense for me. It’s getting faster and harder.

I realize that every time he lands on the seam of my panties, I notice it. It’s just a little jarring, like it shouldn’t be there. So I drop them, just let them fall on the floor. And it seems silly to be naked except for a bra, so I take it off, too. Then I put myself back in the same position, and the cropping picks back up where it left off. I’m wallowing in the sensation of it. The sound of the crop, the feel of a gloved hand resting on my shoulder, the music, the heat of my skin and the burn of the… pain? Not-pain. There’s so much of it, I don’t know how to process it, but I don’t want it to stop.

---

I realize that the not-pain has stopped. And I’m no longer standing, leaning over the bar. I’m sitting on the ground, and the blanket is wrapped around my shoulders. I shiver a little. I’m not cold, but something…

“Here, drink some water.” It’s him. He’s kneeling on the ground beside me, offering me something. Oh, it’s a cup. The water. I take it, and watch my hands shake. I use two hands. He’s looking at me, waiting. It comes to me, and I drink some of the water. That’s what he was waiting for. He sits with me, pulling me over to rest my head on his shoulder. That’s how we started this, my head on his shoulder. 

He pets on me for a while, until I realize I’m sitting naked in a room full of strangers. I look around for my clothes, and they are folded neatly in a pile next to me. I pull on my shirt, and that’s enough for now. I drink more of the water, and the shivering has stopped.

I look up at him. I think I ought to feel shy, but I don’t. “You did great,” he says. “Especially for a first scene. I think you’re going to enjoy being a part of this community.” I grin and nod. He’s right; I really have.