Submission in Seattle (19 page)

They drove
downtown again the next day, recovered her car and some more boxes from her
office, then drove to the police department’s downtown precinct.  Saturday
afternoons didn’t seem like a busy time for the Seattle police and the large
building seemed half empty.  They spent two hours filling out forms and waiting
on hard plastic chairs before they were given any advice.  The obviously
overworked detective didn’t feel that there was much point in taking any
further steps.  Hundreds of men would match the description that Cole and
Monica had given.  The detective called the building security office and it
turned out that the security cameras were inoperative that week, so there would
be no pictures of the assailant. 

Returning to the
house in her own car, Monica put the remains of her ruined suit in the trash
and decided to get on with her life.  Moving the last of her possessions into
the house she now shared with Cole helped to occupy her thoughts.

She was a little
paranoid for the next few days, but by the time she reported for work at her
new job, she appeared, at least on the surface, to have recovered completely. 
The job turned out to be everything she hoped for.   The concentration that was
required to bring herself up to speed helped her put the frightening episode
almost entirely behind her. 

Aside from an
heightened interest in security and a sudden increase in trips to the gun club,
the only lasting effect was an inability to feel submissive.  Even when she and
Cole would engage in their sexy D/S games, the lovely feeling that she had once
craved was absent.  It was as if she wanted to deny the existence of that part
of her personality. 

Figuring that
nature would take its course, Cole simply waited.  He believed that someone as
naturally submissive as Monica would have to return to her normal personality
eventually and he was a patient man.  He was also very much in love and knew
that he would accept whatever form of sexuality she happened to display. 

Even without the
spark of dominance and submission, their sex life was still an active one. 
They both had healthy libidos and living together gave them plenty of
opportunities to enjoy each other.   Cole allowed her to take the initiative
and determine when they would run for the big bed and dive under the covers
together.  He rather enjoyed the chance to explore this new area of her
sexuality.  She was comforted by the knowledge that he still loved her even when
she was unable be submissive.

Snuggling in bed
on the first rainy night of the Northwest Autumn, he felt her warm, dry skin
and inhaled her healthy, slightly perfumed scent.  He decided to ask her how
she was feeling about her submissiveness. Holding her spoon fashion with his
right arm wrapping around beneath her narrow waist he asked quietly, “Have you
had any kinky feelings lately?”

“It’s hard to
describe, lover.  I can tell that my subby feelings are still there, but when
they try to surface, I just push them back down and wait for them to go away,”
her voice contained a subtle tension that revealed the magnitude of the
problem.

He snuggled
closer, cupping her breast tighter. “That’s sad.  Does it bother you very much?

“Yeah... it does,
but I don’t know what to do about it.  Maybe it will take a long time.  I’d
love to be my old subby self again.  I’m just too scared of it.  I can’t seem
to relax and let it come back.”

“According to the
Master’s Handbook, I’m supposed to give you a good spanking, then fuck you in
the ass, but -- being the wimpy Master that I am -- I’m willing to wait as long
as it takes.”  They both chuckled at the thought, knowing that he would never
attempt to force her into submission.

“I suppose you
could see a therapist, but I can’t imagine what they’d say when you tell them
you want your submissiveness back,” he smiled.  “Maybe you should start all
over like you were just discovering the scene for the first time.”

“Hmmm... I think
you’re onto something there,” she said as she reached back to grab his cock
beneath the covers.

As he enjoyed her
gentle stimulation he thought out loud.  “Maybe it’s time for us to attend some
scene events.  One of their primary functions is to make kinky people feel
better about their sexuality.  Sounds like just the sort of thing you could use
right now.”

She rolled over
and began to engage in one of her favorite activities.  Taking her lover’s
manly organ into her mouth, she licked, kissed and sucked in all the ways that
she knew would drive him completely crazy. 

“Slow down, my
little felatrix.  I’m still thinking about scene events.  Why don’t we go to a
meeting of our local kinky group this Thursday?  The announcement on the net
said they were having a caning demonstration.  Hey, that’s enough!”

Monica pushed him
down on the bed and mounted his rock hard shaft.  He normally did not like
positions that cast him in the submissive role, but seeing her delicate
bouncing breasts so close to his face overcame his reluctance.  They both had a
very adequate climax and went to sleep feeling satisfied.  During the night
they slid their bodies together several times for more semi-conscious cuddling
and closeness.

On Thursday, they
both arrived home around five thirty and ate a quick dinner.  By the time they
made the drive into downtown Seattle, the traffic was light.  Cole watched her
for signs of nervousness, but she seemed calm.  He had explained to her that
the meetings were designed to be strictly informative and non-threatening. 

She was still a
bit worried that she might meet someone she knew from work.  He explained to
her that there was no need to worry.  If you met someone you knew, they had as
least as much to worry about as you did.  They were not going to cause you any
trouble because you could do the same to them.  He told her that this was a
variation on the old cold war strategy of mutually assured destruction and it
was a foolproof safety system. 

Many people
avoided the meetings because they were afraid that they would find themselves
in a room full of dangerous perverts.  Although Monica had heard several benign
descriptions of the meetings, she was still a bit worried.  She was also
nervous because the meeting site in the Capitol Hill district was the closest
she had gotten to the place where she was attacked in over a month.  They
finally found a place to park in a residential area about four blocks from the
meeting hall.  Monica stayed close to Cole as they walked along the dark wet
street.

The group met in a
building that contained several public meeting halls which could be rented for
a small fee.  In a nearby room, another group appeared to be holding a church
related conference.  Monica grinned as she wondered if they knew what kind of
perverts were gathering next door.

The room looked
like it had once been a classroom.  There were about fifty plastic chairs in
neat rows and some well-worn folding tables at the front.  Just inside the door
a pleasant looking redhead in a tight black dress collected a few dollars from
each person and handed out a small newsletter containing event announcements,
articles and personal ads.  Everyone was given a stick-on nametag and people
wrote whatever name they preferred to use with a blue marking pen.

They sat down in
the back row and she tried not to stare at the twenty or thirty people who were
already there.  Like Cole and Monica, most of them looked like they had just
come from work.  There were a number of men in suits and sport coats, some with
pagers or cell phones on their belts.  There were a few sexy women that drew
most of Monica’s attention. She wondered if they were pro-Dommes.

The room gradually
filled with exceedingly normal looking people, about half male, half female. 
Monica studied them carefully, while trying not to be too obvious.  Less than
ten percent showed any overt signs of kinkiness.  She noticed several leather
jackets and a few people who obviously had a piercing fetish.  Monica had never
before seen someone with a piercing through the bridge of their nose.  She asked
herself, “Wouldn’t those little silver balls be visually distracting?”

Before she had
time to inspect everyone in the group, a friendly fellow stood at the front of
the room and called the meeting to order.  It was obvious that he was enjoying
himself, leading the group, and he began to read a series of announcements. 

“There will be a
meeting of the kinky writer’s group at Mistress Selena’s house at seven PM next
Tuesday.” 

“The women’s
welcoming committee meets every Wednesday at The Edge Cafe.  All women who are
interested in learning more about the scene are welcome.  See Joan if you have
any questions.  Stand up so we can see you Joan.”  One of the more attractive
women, with very long black hair stood in the front row and waved at the
group.  Monica noticed that she had a nice body and was wearing little earrings
that looked like floggers.

“Please notice
Joan’s column in this month’s newsletter about negotiating a scene.  Extra
copies of the newsletter may be purchased for three dollars if you need another
one for a friend.”

When the club
president was finished with the announcements, the next item of business was an
opportunity for everyone to give an introduction.  Each person who wanted to
participate was allowed to stand up, give their name and say a few words about
their kinky preferences or experiences.  The technique had been copied from a
successful group in Chicago and it was intended to make the members feel better
about their particular fetish or sexual preference.

A harmless looking
fellow in a rumpled sport coat stood up first, “Hi, my name is John, I’ve been
in the scene six months and I’m a bottom.”

“Hello everyone,
I’m Mistress Kitty, I’m a Top and I’ve been a member of this organization since
it was first founded two years ago and I guess you all know me pretty well by
now.”

“Hi, I’m Mark and
this is my wife Sandy.  This is our second meeting and we’re just exploring. 
We think she’s a Top and I’m a bottom.”

“My name is
Leslie, I like to be spanked.”

“Hi, my name is
Frank, I’m an obsessive-compulsive cunnilinguist.”

The introductions
went around the room in this fashion until a man in this twenties stood up and
said, “Hi, My name is Joe and I’m an alcoholic.”  The room burst into laughter
as they all suddenly recognized the parallel with AA meetings.   Cole was not
really surprised, since the similarities had been obvious to him for a long
time.  People who struggled with the fact that their form of sexuality was not
accepted by society needed a support group.

When it was their
turn to introduce themselves, Cole politely passed and let the next person
speak.  The meeting had been going for nearly an hour when the announcements
and introductions were finally finished.  A presentation on caning was the
scheduled highlight of the meeting.  Some of the chairs were pushed back to
make more room at the front and a quilt was placed on one of the long folding
tables. The speaker was a fellow named Conrad who resembled a slightly
disheveled elf, with a long beard and a flowing lavender satin shirt.  His
enthusiasm for SM play was highly infectious.  As he discussed the various
aspects of playing with canes, the audience loosened up further and joked
easily with him. 

When all of the
technical and ethical topics had been exhausted, a pre-chosen volunteer came
forward.  She was a shapely woman in her thirties who was well known as a
“heavy bottom”.  That is, she played the bottom role and liked to be hit hard. 
Clad in bra and thong, she climbed onto the now padded tabletop and assumed a face
down posture to present her nicely curved buttocks as a target for the cane.

Conrad continued
to talk as he began gently caning the woman with light tapping strokes.  Most
of the audience stared intently at the unfolding tableau, wondering how far the
caning would go.   Many of them had never seen anything of this type before and
their eyes betrayed the intense thoughts that were flashing through their
aroused minds.  The warm up lasted for more than twenty minutes.

The cane gradually
tapped harder, until there was a pause, then the cane was raised higher and descended
with a loud swish of air to land with an audible impact on the already pink
bottom of the sexy volunteer.  She let out a happy sounding “Ahhhh”, much to
the relief of those who thought briefly that something had gone wrong.