Scary Good

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

An Invitation

The next few days I walked around in a kind of fog. I kept replaying that little encounter with Julia, the practicality of her asking me for help, and her equally matter-of-fact statement that she wanted nothing more. And I thought of Warren’s quick visit, how he kind of (Ha! Not kind of - did!) just brought everything out into the open, including his recognition of my own leanings toward bondage. But instead of embarrassment, Warren’s sharp insight not only liberated my best kept secret it also took off my internal pressure to keep it hidden. As my reasoning returned I realized I was who I was, and I knew what I liked when it came to s*x. And apparently others had already accepted what I was too. I carried that with me as I took in other tenants’ requests, complaints, comments about how they needed one simple issue or another resolved.

Instead of irritating me at how these people couldn’t take care of themselves, I felt serene and, for the first time in a long time, happy. I had new friends in Warren and Julia and that went a long way toward my change in attitude. When I took the apartment manager job I soon found out how difficult it was to care for a multi-dwelling complex. But eventually I looked on the job not as a necessary evil, but something in which to take pride. Still, I wished more than once the other tenants were like Warren and Julia, not so much in a bondage way, but that they were quiet and kept to themselves.

Warren and Julia were perfect. They always paid their rent on time, and if there were any problems with the apartment, Warren was good with his hands and fixed it. He would tell me about the problem first, but then would offer to take care of it. He always presented a receipt for any materials needed which were deducted from the rent. And whenever a corporate client used the apartments below them, they were quiet, especially when they came home late at night. Usually when other tenants came home they were still in a party mood. More than once I had to remind the partiers that other people were sleeping. Sometimes I got the middle finger, or at least a look that said I was killing their fun. But whenever Warren and Julia came home they silently glided through the courtyard and up the stairs. They would wave hello or give me a greeting in hushed voices. Like I said, perfect.

And I was so jealous of them.

They had found each other and, whatever shape their dominant-submissive relationship had evolved into it was obvious it worked for them. I saw them, remembered my little thing with Julia and then Warren’s visit, and I wished I had something like that. But bondage isn’t for casual dating conversation, at least not with most people. Oh, I did go on some dates, but there was never any spark. And the ladies I took out felt the same. They were nice, but they also sensed that we weren’t a match. And in our culture of immediate gratification they moved on fast. So, since the dating life was disappointing, I explored other outlets for my bondage needs.

There were several bondage houses downtown. When things were quiet at the Crossed Arms I would drive, just drive, maybe get something to eat, sit alone at my table, then drive some more. At last, unable to hold off any longer I would find myself parking about a block away from one of several places where I could find a suitably flexible lady and tie her tight. But there wasn’t anything that came close to s*x. More than once, as I got my bondage needs satisfied, I was still left sexually frustrated. It was all I could do to get back home, the memory of my most recent session still somewhat fresh, and masturbate in private. But what I wanted was someone who wouldn’t kick me out when the time I had paid for expired. And as for dating apps on whether to swipe left or swipe right, I wasn’t about to put my personal information out there for someone to track. So I went to the bondage houses in the semi-industrial areas, entered with a quick step and, after about an hour, just as hastily left. Alone.

I clung to the belief that my anonymity was somewhat assured. Of course, other clients to those places came in and out. But even though we saw each other, nothing much was said. They were mostly guys like me, looking for that elusive thing with no time to spare for commiseration. One night though, after my most recent session and returning to my car on the dark street, I saw another one that looked familiar. Was that Julia’s SUV? Several shadows inside suggested people shapes, three, maybe four, but they were absolutely still. I made a point of not slowing my own stride; after all others like me came here for privacy. And it wasn’t a good idea to just hang around as the neighborhood was more than sketchy. So I kept on and minded my own business. That occurred on late Saturday night, early Sunday morning. As the following week crawled by I kept thinking about the car, and from a discrete distance studied Julia’s in the apartment parking lot. It could have been hers that night, but there was no way to know for sure. I wasn’t a cop or anybody who by second nature memorized license plates. And even if she and Warren were there, it really didn’t make any difference to me.

But apparently, looking back, it did make a difference. A huge one.

The next Friday night, as I settled in front of the television, and wondering whether paying someone to tie them up was in my future that weekend, the doorbell rang. s**t, even though I had made a conscious effort to change my attitude about tenant problems, the last thing I needed right now was a complaint or some kind of plumbing problem.

I gripped the handle and opened the door in a rush. “What is it - “ I started to say.

Julia. She stood there in a short, white silk bathrobe that clung tight to her breasts and left a lot of bare leg exposed. Her hands were behind her back and her head was bowed.

“Sir,” she said. “My master wishes to extend an invitation to you for a light meal. If you please, would you follow me?”

Holy crap! What the hell was this? I wish I could have said something witty, like in a cool movie star kind of way, but all that dribbled from my mouth was, “Ah... Ah, I don’t know...”

“Please, sir. My master is most anxious to discuss matters to our mutual benefit.”

If my mouth was paralyzed, then suddenly my whole body was like a live wire. “Alright,” I croaked, then cleared my throat. “Lead the way.”

Julia lifted her head briefly and smiled. “Thank you, sir!” Around her neck was a wide leather collar. When she turned around, from beneath her long hair, a small silver lock shone. Julia also sported a pair of thin leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles. As we strode through the courtyard and up the stairs Julia acted completely unconcerned if any of the other tenants might see her. As for myself, I wondered if anyone might notice as I shifted the growing c**k in my pants to a more comfortable position. Food was the last thing on my mind.

Everything in their living room appeared normal and homey; a couch was set with the back toward the door and the front part faced a wall-screen TV about ten feet away. Just to the left of the TV was a sturdy, round wooden table with four lightly padded chairs set around it. On the table in front of two were simple place settings with small, white plates and a couple of stemmed wine glasses. Julia continued on to the left and busied herself in the open kitchen. As I tracked her, unable to keep from staring at her legs and the cuffs on the ankles, Warren emerged from the hallway on my right that led back to two of the bedrooms. I thought it strange that he came from there and not from the master bedroom which was across the living room on the opposite side of the apartment.

Warren smiled and shook my hand in greeting. “I’m glad you decided to come,” he said. “Even though I kind of outed you the day you helped Julia, she and I have discussed whether that was a wise thing to do. Every master should be so lucky as me, to have a slave to call him out when needed.”

“Ah, yeah,” I said. “You did kind of catch me by surprise. But there’s no telling when you might find someone into bondage. Or where.”

Warren half-smiled. “Ah, so you did see us on the street that night? We were entertaining some friends from out of town, and they wanted to see the sights. And not just the ones in the tourist guides. But as for tonight, there is much to discuss. Please.”

He gestured to the table and we sat.

Instantly Julia poured some dark red wine, not very much, but a polite amount. Finger sandwiches of chicken salad and a variety of cubed cheeses soon followed. At a look from Warren Julia removed her robe and knelt between us, her legs tucked under her, hands turned palms up on the thighs. She didn’t blush in embarrassment, as if stripping in front of a stranger was nothing new. But then I recalled how easily she lifted the back of her shirt for me to apply the cream. As she knelt there, ripe and ample breasts exposed, n*****s slightly hardened, it was obvious this woman was comfortable with her body.

Warren lifted his wine in silent toast. I did the same and the glasses clinked. Warren took some cheese, then passed the plate to me. “I’ll bet it’s tough, hanging around, waiting for the next tenant emergency to solve. You have to be ready all the time. And if you’re in the middle of something enjoyable I can understand why you need to get away where no one can find you, relieve the pressure. Feel like you’re more in control.”

“I, ah, I never thought of it that way,” I said. “I don’t know why I’m like this. I just am.”

My eyes flicked to Julia. She hadn’t moved but the n*****s were definitely hardened by now, a twin pair of tips that stuck straight out. Warren’s fingers squeezed the nearest one. Julia gasped but otherwise remained still. Warren offered her a piece of cheese. Julia leaned forward, her lips reached out and gently took the small cube from Warren’s outstretched fingers.

Warren nodded to me to do the same. As I held a piece in front of her Julia’s warm breath flowed around my fingers. Her tongue slid out, grazed against my hand and I swear I almost came in my pants. Her lips encompassed the cheese, a slow, almost languid movement, like she was trying to draw out the moment, and under Warren’s very nose. But Warren caught it all and he chuckled.

I tried to sound more sophisticated than I really was and said, “You... You have a very well trained slave.”

“Julia knows her role,” Warren said. “When to submit, when to serve. Her defiance can be a challenge, but I wouldn’t have her any other way.”

“You mean, she disobeys you?”

“Of course, but she does so to keep me sharp. When there’s a matter to discuss, like now, she is my equal. Even if she knows she will be punished for that little thing with your hand just now. And you know you owe me, don’t you, honey?” He stroked the top of her head.

“Yes, master,” Julia breathed.

“Good. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, master.”

We ate and drank some more. Warren asked about my own background, about my past bondage experiences. I said it was tough, trying to find a willing partner who I didn’t have to pay. He was puzzled when I said I shied away from the seemingly simple solution of the internet, but Julia raised her hand and Warren called on her.

“David’s caution isn’t so hard so hard to understand, master. Try looking at it another way. For him, like as a single submissive woman, even though David is a dominant man, there are dangers out there for him too. He wants to be able to share this with others he can trust, in a safe environment. Like myself, perhaps David thought he found someone to share this with, only to have them shame him in front of others.”

I thought back to college, to that psych major I had dated. We came across each other at a party after breaking up. She was drunk and asked, loudly, if I had started therapy yet for that leather kink. A few heads turned my way and I was overcome by a wave of embarrassment and anger. I damned near slapped her. Instead I just got out. A few weeks later graduation took place and I never saw her or anyone from that party again, which is just the way I wanted it. It was also, now that Julia brought up the subject of discretion, why I had stayed off the internet.

Warren didn’t respond right away. With an elbow on the table, his chin rested in a hand while his eyes stared off in the distance. At last he nodded and said, “Yes, of course, how thoughtless of me. Since we have been together, Julia and I, we have adopted a somewhat open lifestyle about SM. I’ve forgotten what it is like to take chances and tell someone your hidden truth. But, like I said before, there are signs we all give off, even if we aren’t aware of them.”

“When did you know with me?” I said.

“The day we met you,” Julia said. At a look from Warren she started to withdraw but he waved his hand for her to continue. “The way you stared at my collar. Others had before too, but you were laser focused.”

“Also when you stared at Julia as she stood in the corner of the playroom,” Warren said. “And when you didn’t flinch when you saw Julia’s whip marks, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

The cheese was nearly done by that point, and my wine was down a considerable amount, but I had lost any further appetite. At a sign from Warren, Julia cleared away the plates and my glass. Warren retained his glass, his fingers resting lightly around the stem. No one spoke. From behind Julia’s hands lightly rested on my shoulders. They didn’t quiver in suppressed excitement but felt calm, reassuring. Warren drilled me with his eyes but there was no demand in them. Instead they were full of sympathy.

I spoke, my voice thick. “You don’t know... You don’t what it’s like... to have this... so deep, so...”

“Yes,” Warren gently said. “Yes, I do. And so does Julia.”

Julia leaned down on my left, her hair a soft brush against my cheek. A tissue was in her hand, and she dabbed at my cheeks, my eyes. “We are with you, David,” she said. “You are so handsome. We can only imagine your passion. Time to let it out. Time for you to be who you are. You are going to be a wonderful master; strong, resolute, and just a touch of good scary. The slave girls will be throwing themselves at your feet.”

“You, you really think so?” At least that’s what I tried to say. About halfway through I broke down, the tears gushing forth. Julia held me to her breasts, arms gently around my head, like a mother comforting a hurt child. After so long, after so much repression of not allowing myself to be who I was, and then only under strictly controlled circumstances, I finally let it all burst out. Warren’s hand also rested on my shoulder.

At last, I knew, really knew, that I was going to be alright.