Watching her makes my skin warm enough that I look down at my arms to see if they’re turning red. They aren’t, but they feel like it. I don’t know why. My attention goes back to the strip of paper secured to my arm, and I run my fingers over it again. I don’t even realize Casey is talking to me until I hear her call my name sharply.
“I asked if the wristband was okay with you.”
I nod.
“Speak up,” she says, her tone commanding me to look at her face. She narrows her eyes at me. “It’s dark in here, the music gets loud, and I want to know for sure what your answer is.”
“It’s okay,” I say. She’s right about the music. I can feel the bass thumping in my feet, and we’re not even in the main room yet.
“Good. I don’t want anyone else to think that just because you’re not with Cree, you’re fair game.”
I’m not completely sure what that means.
Casey leads me to the back of the dungeon, past other couples, thruples, and groups in the process of setting up scenes. We pass a woman lying face down on a table. She’s naked except for large, noise-cancelling headphones and a blindfold. Next to her is a box riddled with holes. Inside each hole is a wooden rod. On top of the rods are a bunch of rubber or silicone objects in various shapes. I see a ball, a star, and something that looks like a cubed-shaped chunk of swiss cheese. The display reminds me of the box full of Tootsie Pops at the end of the counter at the bagel shop. Several people stand around the woman, select one of the rods, and strike her body with whatever is on top of it. The objects light up, sending multicolored flashes of light all around.
At the back of the main dungeon room stand a few moveable walls to add privacy for those who want it. Casey leads me behind one of the walls to a section I’ve been to before with Cree. A mat covers the floor, and a hard point hangs from the ceiling with a large loop attached to it. A few cushions lie in a pile near the privacy wall.
I stand at the edge of the mat, staring down as I watch Casey in my peripheral vision. She pulls out piles of rope and places them strategically on the mat along with some carabiners and a pair of scissors. She removes her shoes and puts them next to her empty rope bag.
“Ready to get started?”
I stare at the rope, already thinking about what it will feel like when it’s wrapped around me. My fingers are tingling as my anxiety builds. I don’t usually feel this way before Cree starts to tie. In my head, I keep hearing Casey say that this is all about sex for her, and for the first time, I start to pay attention to what else is happening in the dungeon.
Behind me, I can hear the steady thud of a flogger and corresponding moans. At the top of the privacy wall, I can still see flashes of colorful light, accompanied by laughter. Electronic music barely covers the buzzing of vibrators and the crack of whips.
Casey reaches out and grabs my chin, pulling my attention back to her. She stands right up against me and looks up at my face. Her grip is strong. It doesn’t hurt, but it would take a little effort to turn my head. I don’t try. I can’t even move. All I can do is stare back into her eyes.
“You are going to learn to listen when I speak to you,” she says. “I’ll go easy on you for a while, but if you want to have as much time in rope as you say you do, I expect you to fucking pay attention to me when I’m talking. You understand?”
I blink. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I wait for the panic to take over, but it doesn’t come. Right about now, I expect to want to turn and run, but instead, I find I don’t want to.
“I asked you a question, Rocco. Do you understand what I said?”
I nod as best I can, but she still glares at me.
“Yes,” I say quietly.
“Good boy.” Her eyes soften as she leans toward me, then scowls. Placing a hand on my shoulder, she pushes me down until I’m kneeling on the mat in front of her, and she’s looking down at me. “That’s better. Now stay still.”
Casey places her hand on the top of my head, then runs her fingers down my cheek. She caresses the place where her fingers gripped my chin a moment ago, lightly grazing my skin with her fingernails. Moving her hand to my shoulder, she walks around me slowly until she’s standing at my back. I stare down at the floor in front of me as I feel her tugging at the end of my braided hair until it loosens. She unwinds the braid completely and then comes around to stand in front of me again.
With both hands, she holds my head for a moment, then combs her fingers through my hair, spreading it across my shoulders. She takes a strand and twists it around one finger, gently placing it against my neck before tilting her head and looking into my eyes again.
“You just never think of yourself that way, do you?” Casey shakes her head slowly. She leans in, placing her lips right up against my ear. “You’re fucking hot, Rocco. That hair just makes me want to grab it in my fists and ride you until the sun comes up.”
I swallow hard. I’m glad she didn’t ask me a direct question since I’m not even sure I can speak right now, and I want to follow the directions she gave me. Though the music isn’t as loud in the side area, she wanted me to speak out loud, and I told her I would.
“I love that you have long hair. It’s one of the first things I noticed about you.”
“I just haven’t gotten it cut,” I say abruptly. I don’t know why the words even come out of my mouth. It’s not like I can explain how difficult it is to even think about finding a place near campus that will cut my hair, then walking to said place and talking to some total stranger about hair. They’d ask me what I wanted, and I wouldn’t know how to answer. The thought of going for a
haircut was bad enough with my foster mother.
“You just have to tell them what you like,” she had said. “Sit down in the chair, and say you’d like it short on the sides and a little longer on top, just like Michael’s.”
“No.” The panic inside rose at the very thought.
“It’s easy, Rocco. You just have to make yourself do it. Once you try it out, it will be easier the next time.”