BDSM Writing

Part of my book deals with BDSM. There are many many many different forms this can take. Just check out JT’s Stockroom (do NOT access this site while at work). It’s fun researching it, and all the different forms it can take, and recalling my own experiences with it. And that’s what I wrote today. It’s where my main character, Molly (a romance novel writer on vacation in Nice, France), and her new boyfriend, Constantine, go to an orgy of sorts. It’s not where everyone sleeps with one another but instead is more of an experimentation lab hosted by some benefactors. A place to discover in essence, and later it’ll be seen that there are other motives behind it. Here’s Molly’s initial experience with it in rough draft form.

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Music pounded as I climbed off of him and removed him from the restraints. My pussy was still wet and I wanted more. I wanted more of what this place had to offer.

White light…

I could hear the words pulsing through the electronic beat wrapping me in an ethereal air that I had never experience before in my life. Constantine must have been following, but I forgot about him as I traced my way through the floor. My mind had somehow changed when the music reached its crescendo with synthesizers breaking through and piercing my ears painfully and blotting out all the moans and screams around me.

This is yellow. This is yellow. This is yellow.

Green, green, green.

Blue.

This is violet.

It thundered through the red lit hall as the bass made my chest tremble and air move in and out of my nose involuntarily. I had never been so affected by lyrics. They always seemed shallow and strained to me. But the dark synthesizers pounding my ear and the simplicity of the lyrics was at home to what I saw. Buzzing, pounding, chanting, it all felt so at home. I looked to my right to see a woman in only stockings and a hood over her head chained to two posts climaxing as the man buried his head between her legs. Just next to them a man was tied to the wall with arms splayed out begging for more while another man whipped him till small droplets of blood formed on his red chest. I couldn’t help but walk further through the rows of adventures. Some I initially recoiled from. There was a woman sliding into a latex bag, fitting her nose through a small hole to breath and then being vacuumed into it while her lover pulled the zipper down that sat between her legs and began slipping fingers in. I stared, not knowing that I was staring, as the woman in the bag tried to move but was sealed in. It was something I had never seen before. Around me were people in cages, some strung up, others tied down, one woman was being penetrated by a machine, another man held a reciprocating saw with a dildo attached to it and penetrated the ass of a gagged man, more than a few were being mildly electrocuted through patches placed on nipples, on necks, on … their vulvas, on their dicks, on their ass and between the cheeks, but this woman, this woman in a bag, she could die. If her lesbian lover was not attentive, not caring, not so caught up in the moment, she could die through something as careless as a cold that would clog her nose. The swelling music stopped in my mind as I continued to stare. And then the lover looked at me and smiled. Her partner was merely a nose and a vagina covered in black latex, unable to see what was happening or where her lover went but was sure of what would come next, her lover would of course return.

Beatrice came over and asked me if I would like to try. She spied Constantine over my shoulder, I had not noticed him. I was scared. I told her that I was scared of what I was seeing and she said that was part of the whole point of it. To give yourself up entirely into the hands of another person. Being gagged was submission. Being tied up I could still see and move and talk and wince and alert. Cages were confining but not risky. Flogging would hurt but never harm as the lashes were too soft to bite deep into the flesh. She said that everything around me was safe. It all had the illusion of being dangerous, of being deviant, but nothing ever was out of control at any point. Everyone here knew what they were doing an knew what they liked. Then she asked me what I liked. I said I didn’t know. She smiled and pointed to her lover. Being encased with latex, being cut off from the world while being pleasured, that was something nothing around me could offer. I would be completely submissive, completely out of control, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to see or blink and barely able to breathe, unable to signal beyond small grunts through my nose that could easily be mistaken for pleasure. I would have to trust Constantine like no other.

I looked at him and felt like giving myself over to him completely. But only if he would do the same for me. He kissed my forehead and said yes. Beatrice unzipped the top of the bag to release her lover, Anne, and then pointed to me. Music returned and pounded their words out of my ears. The lovely naked Anne came over and took my hand. The bag was warm and soft. It wrapped itself around me like a blanket. But I was scared as my head went in. It was pitch black inside and fear wracked my mind about what would happen next. Anne poked a finger through the nose hole for me to align myself with. I could have said no, I could have let fear get the better of me, but then I thought of Constantine. He would be in control, I would give myself over to him. So I shifted myself and Anne, or Beatrice, pulled the latex over my head to ensure a good position. I could feel the zipper between my legs, rough and metal cold to the touch. Music drowned out the vacuum as the latex slowly formed around me in a warm embrace. Soon I was only breathing through my nose and my heart beat, throbbed, and my mind screamed to get out of there, to scream before it was too late, that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, that I should run back to Dom, to Art, to anyone other than Constantine who brought me here to this living hell that I didn’t know anything of before him while the black latex crushed my forehead and buried itself in my eyes so I was blind and couldn’t move and couldn’t scream and couldn’t do anything. But it was too late. By the time my mind settled on escaping the zipper was down.

It was so warm, so hard, and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t arch, I couldn’t react, I could only be perfectly passive. I wanted to escape. It felt horrible. At first. Then I relaxed my muscles and felt him push in deeper. I moaned. More muscles relaxed and my breathing quickened. It felt like I was suffocating as I couldn’t take deeper breathes, but it felt better because of it. It felt like he was choking me, like he was holding me down, like he had all the power over me and I was his. It wasn’t freeing. It was bondage. When Constantine wrapped his strong hands around my wrists I understood, there is an excitement in power, power over him and power of him over me. I gave in and accepted his strength. The latex held me down as I came, as he came. Then the vacuum was released and I could breath. Inside that warm bag I lay wanting it again. It was the most intense experience I had ever had. Never could I have ever imagined in all the romance novels I had written that sex could ever feel like a life and death decision and that decision would make it all the more intense. I wanted more, I wanted to know how it could be bested. But then I knew what would come next. He would be inside. And I would possess him. He would be mine.

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