Backed Redux - Chapter 21

My new necklace was a hit at the office. But I couldn’t explain to anyone there what the true significance was. I smiled and simply said it was a gift from my partner.

A couple of the older women looked at each other knowingly and asked how long before I was sporting a ring on my finger as well. I assured them I wouldn’t be, but they just smiled as if they knew better. I tried not to let them affect me or see how sad their statements really made me. Though I didn’t actually want a ring, physical affection would be far more welcome than more jewelry.

Not surprisingly, I couldn’t wait to show it off at a munch or play party, where people would actually understand. Luckily, a monthly munch was held near us and soon.

Seth was simply pleased it was in Brooklyn. He had quickly become a Brooklyn snob and felt if he couldn’t find it there, it wasn’t worth “going into the City” for. He despised the crowds and became fed up with them far more quickly than I did.

“Why do they call it a munch anyway?” Seth asked.

“I’m honestly not sure,” I answered. “I never was clear on that.”

Apparently, it didn’t matter. Two days later we were sitting in the private room of a high-end pizza joint that we’d wanted to try but hadn’t had a chance to. We introduced ourselves and I stayed as vague as I could about our past, saying that I was not new to the scene, just the area.

I brought up previous experiences and concentrated on not mentioning a specific place. I got compliments on my collar and it was indeed a relief to be able to have it recognized as such. I loved being around people who I didn’t have to hide myself from – not everything, that is.  It was incredibly liberating and exactly what I needed. Seth seemed to enjoy himself too though he was a little less outgoing.

The munch was well attended, and we were encouraged to attend parties and other events around the city. Of course, many people had their own opinions of some that weren’t always favorable, but I was used to that. Compared to some of the infighting and arguments I’d seen and heard about back home, this was mild. Seth still thought they were too catty, and I tried to explain some of what had gone on in other big cities and how lucky Cleveland had been.

“I would say it was a Midwestern thing,” I told Seth. “But I know other Midwestern cities that practically had wars, so who knows why things worked so well in Cleveland of all places.”
There’d been three dungeons within an hour of me, and I’d found a home at one of them due more to its proximity than problems with anyone at the others. In fact, I’d been impressed that everyone had gotten along as well as they had but had no illusions that the community would be that polite in New York City.

Seth wasn’t convinced that we wouldn’t be walking into a landmine if we went to a party but agreed to give it a try. The next one was a couple weeks away and I immediately went into planning mode about what to wear and whether I needed new shoes. I’d had such fun boots back home. Now all I had were boring, sensible shoes I could wear to work. Nothing seemed suitable for kinky fun.

Seth gave me a budget on shoes and said if I could find something in that range, I could get them. That Friday after work, I headed out to a second-hand store and found a pair of red, knee-high snakeskin boots that just happened to be in my size. I snatched them up and remained far under budget.

In the meantime, I tried on my old corset. It had been so long since I’d worn it, I wasn’t sure it would still fit. I had only brought it because it didn’t take up much room, and I had paid too much for it to have it go to waste.

To my surprise, it fit better than ever and completely closed in the back. In fact, now that I was walking so much around the city – and running to catch subway trains – all of my clothes fit differently. I was wearing smaller sizes than I had in years.   More importantly, I felt healthier too.
If Seth noticed a change in my body, he didn’t mention it Maybe that was for the best. He would soon have his own issues deciding on a wardrobe

This would be my first ever party that had a dress code. But although I thought the idea was fun and quickly got into the spirit of the evening, Seth balked. “Why should I have to dress up?” he asked.

“It’s a leather event,” I said. “They tend to be a little more high protocol. Pretend you’re going to a business meeting. Otherwise, you could always wear a kilt. I’m sure no one would mind that.”
Seth glared at me. “I should punish you just for making the suggestion,” he said.

“Oh, come on – they’re very trendy and I like a man in a kilt,” I said. I was trying to flirt but he was having none of it. “Maybe you’d prefer leather pants instead?”

“Bite your tongue,” he said. “Do you want to be taking cold showers for the next few days?” Good lord, he was serious. I let it go.

He bitched so much in the days between the munch and the party that I nearly told him to forget it, that we would wait for something else. But I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity either. If he passed on this, he might never agree to another party, and I was eager to meet more people and get back involved. 

When he wasn’t bitching, we talked about whether we wanted to play publicly. I thought back to how casual my scenes had once been and reminisced about some of my favorites with Seth, just to give him ideas. Because while he and I had done what could be called play, there was almost always a purpose, even if it wasn’t punishment or correction. Sometimes we simply let out some frustrations or one of us spotted something online and wanted to try it. It was often also fun, but that was rarely the intended purpose.

But there was nothing that actually appealed to both of us. The rope scenes I described were either too complicated or too decorative for his tastes. Even some of the impact scenes included equipment or expertise we didn’t have. Whips had once been a favorite of mine but neither of us owned one.

“I doubt anyone will care if we don’t play,” I said. “They’ll probably just see us as shy newbies. It happens all the time.” I was trying to be reassuring. I felt like Seth was on thin ice about going as it was. If he felt pressured to do something he was even more uncomfortable with, he might refuse to go at all.

“I have an idea,” he said finally. Of course he did. I didn’t know whether to be intrigued or terrified, but I did know better than to ask.

When I got home from work the next day, I found he had gone shopping and bought leather pants for himself. I couldn’t believe it. “Seriously? After the hard time you gave me?” I asked.

“Once I tried them on, I liked how they felt,” he said about the pants. “I actually entertained the idea of chaps but I have my limits.  I’m not a cowboy.”

“You don’t have to be,” I said. “I used to know a couple people who wore them all the time, including one skinny older dude who refused to wear anything underneath.” Seth shook his head incredulously.

“Anyway, I noticed that a lot of people have different protocols for home vs. public vs. parties and I started thinking,” he said and nodded toward the dining room table. “I decided if they want high protocol, we’ll give them high protocol.”

There sat a plain, black plastic bag, empty of its previous contents. Next to it was a leather collar – not tall enough to be considered a posture collar, but formidable nonetheless – and a black leash.
Now, I have always maintained – and always will maintain – that kink does not have to be sexual for me. It can be, but I’d bottomed to plenty of people I hadn’t slept with. Play could elicit a wide range of emotions, from simple enjoyment to intense catharsis.

But a well-built man in leather was never going to be anything but sexual for me. And a well-built man in leather leading me around by a leash was likely to leave me in a puddle.

What Seth saw, however, was me transfixed, my mouth agape at the display. “You hate it,” he said.
“No, I – I really don’t,” I replied.

“Oh right,” he said with a wink. “You like tight things around your neck. Let’s try it on you.”

“Sure,” I muttered, and followed him to the dining room.

The leather was softer, more flexible than it looked, and it encased my neck perfectly. “I resisted the one that locked on,” Seth told me.

“I admire your restraint,” I replied.

He clipped the leash onto an O-ring in front. “Is that right?” he asked and tugged me closer to him.
I swallowed hard and wondered if he was aware of how pliable I was in that moment. How far he could have taken me, both mentally and physically. How much of that was written all over my face?

Apparently, he saw none of that. “Want to keep this on a while?” he asked. “Get used to it?”
“Sure,” I replied.

Seth pulled me closer to him. “Excuse me – what’s all this ‘sure’ business?”

 “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “Yes, Sir.”

Finally, he seemed to see me, and searched my eyes. “You really are easy, aren’t you? Are you spacing out on me already?”

I had explained a little about subspace to him – that sort of floaty feeling that felt like being high or drunk. It hit me hardest during bondage and, yes, I was feeling it. “Kinda,” I smiled.

“Would it help to stay in it or will that only make it worse?” he asked.

What would help is if you fucked me, I thought. “Um, I can leave it on for a while,” I said. “But if our neighbors show up, you’re answering the door.”

“Deal,” he grinned.

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Not too many changes from the original chapter. What struck me more in re-reading this was the changes to real life. There really did used to be three dungeon spaces within an hour of me and there really was cooperation between the groups. Now, two of those spaces no longer exist and the new one that has sprung up since was the result of a pretty big scizm. 

It actually feels naive to read this now. I'm sure there were problems I wasn't aware of, petty differences and annoyances. I'm glad I was kept out of it for a while though. I needed to believe I had found the community of my dreams.