Crossing Lines

Oh Special K.

I have a weak spot for White Knights and Do-Gooders. Maybe it’s because I used to be a bit of a White Knight, myself. (Is there a female version of the White Knight? If so, I think that was me.) Regardless, I find tortured souls to be adorable, and vulnerability to be positively intoxicating. That’s my Special K.

I went over to his apartment, not sure if we were going to have a client-Domme scene, or if it would be something a bit more… intimate. I don’t have sex with clients, ever, so it’s important for me to know where we stand. There are lines in this sort of business, and crossing them can mean heartache and a bad reputation in a relatively small community.

“So, uhhh, how do we get started?” It’s a funny question, coming from a Dom to a Domme. How does he typically start a scene with his own submissive?

I walk over to the speakers for his iPhone and plug my phone in. I pull up the song I had chosen, just for this occasion.

You haven’t lived, until you’ve seen an awkward Irishman try to dance and strip while you enjoy the show from your chair. To say it was “sexy” would be inaccurate, unless you’re going for that uncomfortable-squirmy-sexy… which, I do enjoy.

Sometimes, it’s very hard to maintain a straight face in my line of work.

On to the serious stuff, I told myself. Three minutes later, I had him strapped down to the chair, a vibrator up his ass and the control in my hand.

This is how Dommes “get to know you.”

The interrogation wasn’t long; he wasn’t all that good at holding out against me. “What kinks are not listed on your profile?”

“I don’t want anyone to know…” I upped the intensity of the vibrator, watched him squirm, then pulled it back down.

“What kinks are not on your profile? What secret things turn you on? What do you think about when you’re alone?”
There was some grabbing, some scratching, some pain, but he told me in the end. It’s funny how, even on fetish sites, people still worry about what others will think of them. You would think these people are open and sexually comfortable, but I suppose in the end, we all want to project an image, something we want the world to think is really us. But even kinksters have little demons biting at our backs. Everyone has something to hide. I think the better Dom/mes are the ones who give their clients the freedom to let the demons out to play.

In all, I spent about an hour and a half with him, not including the after-care. And he was sweet, like a ripe peach, and I want to sink my teeth into him until he squirmed a bit more. He’s not a client. He never will be. Even if that had been a paying session, something about him crosses a line for me, and I find myself wanting to be sexually intimate. I straddle the border of giving in to a deeper side of our play, and realising that my time in this community is limited. Eventually, my husband and I will move again. Is it right and fair to begin something that could end in tears? A client you can leave behind, but what do you do when pieces of your heart start wandering off into other peoples’ gardens?