Kenyatta rose from between my thighs and kissed my lips. Then he stood me up again on legs still quivering from the most powerful orgasms I’d ever had in my life. He turned me around and I felt his wet kisses and steamy breath on my buttocks. His tongue traced the crack of my ass and my legs trembled again. Then his tongue was inside me. He fucked my ass with his long slippery tongue and it was the most incredible sensation I’d ever felt. I came immediately. Once again reaching around to grab his head and pull him in deeper. My legs gave out and I collapsed back into the tub, trembling everywhere.
Kenyatta lifted me from the bath and stood me on a towel in the bathroom. He dried me off with one of the big cashmere towels that hung on a bar above the tub, embroidered with his initials. Once again he kissed each spot as he wiped it dry, starting from my feet, kissing each toe and then to my ankles and calves, twirling his tongue over my calf muscles and flicking it in the hollow behind each knee. He kissed his way up my thighs and I surprised myself by wanting him again. He kissed my pubic hair and then dried it before kissing it again and sliding his tongue inside me quickly. He turned me around and dried my ass, kissing each cheek. Then he kissed his way up my spine wiping away both the bathwater and his own saliva as he made his way to the back of my neck and then down the front of me, rubbing his face between my breasts and sucking each nipple. He kissed his way back down my belly and then he stood and kissed my face. He licked the bathwater from my eyelids and then from my lips and cheeks. Then he dried off my face.
Kenyatta lifted me into his arms and carried me back to his bed and laid me down on my stomach. He filled his palms with a mixture of rosewater and almond oil and began massaging me. From the bath, the sex, and now the massage, my body was completely relaxed when he slipped inside me. We made love gently and passionately with him saying all the things with his body he wouldn’t have ever put into words. Then he began massaging me again. Once I was completely covered in scented oils from head to toe, he took out a powder puff and gently dusted me with some scented talc that made my skin look even whiter than it was. Then he spritzed me with perfume and stood back to admire his work.
“You are beautiful.”
I felt perfect at that moment. Perfectly safe, perfectly comfortable, perfectly appreciated, perfectly loved by my perfect man.
“Stay right there.”
Kenyatta stepped into his walk-in closet and came back with the full-length white chinchilla coat he’d bought me for my birthday along with the diamond studded cat collar, a leash and a pair of black leather hip boots. He bought me the outfit after our first visit to the Society of “O”—one of the oldest and largest BDSM groups in the country. He took me to one of their parties just a few weeks after we’d started dating to introduce me to the lifestyle he was already well acquainted with. That first trip all we did was watch as doms and their slaves played in the many different themed rooms of the dungeon where the event was held. We watched as men and women were whipped, branded, pierced, paddled, and cut, and we watched them fuck in every imaginable coupling from hetero to homosexual to bi-sexual threesomes and outright orgies. The only rule seemed to be that no bodily fluids could be exchanged and so latex and lubricant flowed freely.
I had never even heard of places like that then. It was all so wild and dangerous and fascinating and forbidden to me, so sexy. It surprised me to see how unimpressed Kenyatta seemed by it all. I could only imagine what his sexual history must have been like.
“How long have you known about this place?”
“I was about twenty years old the first time I came here. I was dating a woman who was much older than me, and she used to read a lot of S&M erotica, but she’d never tried it so we decided to try it together. I was down for anything back then and the kinkier the better. I wanted to do it all. We found this place together in the back of an S&M magazine. Back then, you couldn’t just pay a cover charge and walk in like you can now. Everybody had to have a membership and all the members were pre-screened with an interview and not everyone got accepted. They tried hard to keep the most dangerous perverts out along with weirdos who wanted different things than they offered. I remember waiting by the phone to hear if we’d made it and then getting our membership cards in the mail. We rushed right out to the dungeon that night. We fell into our roles of top and bottom right away.”
“Top and bottom?”
“Dominant and submissive, master and slave. One of the regulars showed me how to use a cat, and I hung Toni up on that rack right there and whipped her ass red.”
His eyes were wistful as he reminisced and a twinge of jealousy struck me out of nowhere. I hated to think about him enjoying any pleasure with someone else that I hadn’t given him. I wanted to experience everything with him.
“Why don’t you strap me up there?”
“Not yet. Some other day. It’s your first time. Let’s just look around.”
I was disappointed, but I knew even then not to say anything about it. It would have only led to a fight, which would have led to Kenyatta not speaking to me for days until he felt I’d been punished enough, so I allowed myself to be talked out of it. Besides, he was right. There was so much to see.
He said he didn’t want to rush me into anything. I suspected he had other motives. He wanted to give me time to fantasize about it, to obsess over it, and eventually, to beg him for it.
“This whole lifestyle is pretty intense. It might turn you off and I don’t want you to get turned off by me because of all of this. I’m not done having fun with you yet. Or you might get really into it. This scene can get really addictive. There was a time when I was here every night with a different sub. That was years ago though. Why don’t you take your time and think about if this is really something you want to get into.”
“Can’t we just try it a little just to see if I like it?”
“I don’t do anything halfway. You should know that by now. It’s all or nothin’ darlin’.”
We walked through more rooms where couples partied in more and more intricate ways. We watched a gay couple brand each other’s cocks. We paused for a moment to watch a lesbian threesome using huge dildos and some type of electric cattle prod on each other. We watched a scarification with a tall gorgeous black woman carving on an old white woman’s back and rubbing what Kenyatta explained to me were ashes into the cuts to make some Wiccan occult design of raised welts.
“Is that permanent?”
“Very.”
Each new room revealed something even more bizarre. We saw an old man wearing a saddle while a young dark haired woman in latex rode his back and striped his buttocks with a buggy whip. We entered a room that was humid with female musk and the scent of Astroglide, several women and even a few men were sitting around the room strapped into bizarre machines that looked like dentist chairs with dildos attached to some bicycle looking apparatus so that they fucked who ever sat on the seat as they peddled. Kenyatta laughed and shook his head. I was happy that he found the scene as ridiculous as I did.
We were still laughing as Kenyatta dragged me into a room where some sort of swap meet was going on. We picked through all kinds of S&M paraphernalia, whips and paddles and flails and cat-o’-nine-tails, dildos, vibrators, collars, and restraints of every variety and description. He bought me the studded collar that night along with the hip boots and some latex lingerie and we’d gone home and fucked like maniacs. The coat came much later. He presented it to me as a gift, but I could tell even then that it was part of his fantasy. Every time I wore it he made me wear the collar and the hip boots with it and either lingerie or some tight slinky dress or nothing at all if we were going to an S&M event. I figured we must be going to something like that now. I was excited, because for us it was a return to normalcy.