But it wasn’t bad, either.
I’d come over to his place. He’d play videogames and then he’d spank me. For aftercare, we’d eat pizza. On the weekends, he introduced me to low-lit, hipster bars in Bushwick where he seemed to know everybody. We played trivia night. He showed me off as his kinky, cute girlfriend. It was comfortable and cozy.
We clicked. He was my age—mid-thirties—with a burly body, a ginger beard, and a dark and twisted sense of humor that I found magnetic. He was one of those easy, casual dominants. The kind of guy who didn’t take himself too seriously, but when he was on, he wason. I loved being his sweet, submissive partner. I wore pretty, floral dresses that he picked out. He preferred blondes, and I didn’t have the money for a hair salon, so Ophelia and I grabbed box dye and nearly burned my scalp off turning my dark,auburn hair into a bright, platinum blonde. I had a soft, black collar that I kept around my neck as a sign of my devotion. I greeted him at the door on my knees. I asked permission to kiss him. I melted when he spanked my bottom or held my throat. I liked the way it felt to come home and just shut my brain off. I liked letting someone else make all the decisions.
Although we were a “vanilla” couple in public, on Fridays, we could be our true selves. We went to the club together and played. I wasn’t allowed to play with anyone else—that was a limit of his—but I didn’t want to. I liked being his and only his.
I told my mom about Shawn. “Does he love you?” she asked. Her voice was distracted, and I was on speaker phone. I could imagine her with her hands in clay, her hair pulled back into that tight ponytail to keep it clean.
“I’m not sure,” I said, prodding the bear, “but he calls me a good girl when he spanks me, so I’ll take it.”
“That’s nice, honey,” she said, not having heard me at all, or maybe not caring, her attention a million miles away.
And itwasnice to be Shawn’s. It was perfect. For a while, anyway.
But after a couple of months, he started coming up with reasons not to go to the club. He’d set up drinks with friends. He’d make it a “surprise” date night. We started playing less and less at home.
And then, one Friday, I went to the Club alone and waited for him to meet me there. But all my texts went unanswered. I sat on the lower level, warming the bar stool for a full hour before the realization hit me: he wasn’t coming.
I felt hot all over, uncomfortable. Embarrassed. When I got home, I found Shawn in the dark. The only light came from the TV. He had his headset on and he was playing a first-person shooter.
I flicked on the ceiling lights. He grunted in disapproval, like a vampire.
“Hey.” I said. No response. He was too glued to the screen. I went into the living room and sat in the chair closest to the television. I unzipped my heels, dropping them to the floor and stretching my toes.
“I waited for you at the club,” I continued. I didn’t try to hide the irritation in my voice.
“Yeah. I’m not going anymore.”
“Why not?” I stared at him, but his eyes never left the screen.
“It’s kid stuff. A bunch of freaks playing kinky make believe. Grow up.”
His words hit me like a shock of cold water. For a second, I couldn’t speak. “But…they’re my friends.”
“Get new friends.”
Heat climbed my neck. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”
Suddenly, his eyes snapped towards me. “What’d you say?”
His voice had heat. A loud, angry baritone I wasn’t familiar with. It stopped me in my tracks. Which is when it hit me:
We weren’t in a scene. I had no safe word here.
“Nothing,” I said. My voice was so quiet, I could barely hear it.
We stopped going to the club completely.
I was his vanilla girlfriend now. We went out withhisfriends. We did whateverhewanted to do. I wasn’t his obedient submissive, and yet I’d never felt more controlled.
Ophelia kept calling, wondering why I’d fallen off the faceof the earth. I gave her excuse after excuse, until finally even her texts became less and less frequent.
Finally, in December, she sent me:
Ophelia:
Hey. I know it’s been a while, but I’m having a birthday party this Friday. All Seekers. It’d mean a lot if you were there. Love you.
