He’s agreeable, and I’m not sure if it comes from desperation or something else. Time will tell, I suppose.
Physically, he’s exactly what I’m looking for. Mentally? I’m not sure yet.
What I’m looking for in a man, is not for the weak. Anyone can’t jump into the role I need and be good at it just because I want them to. With training, some will be good, but some aren’t made out for it. Some don’t have a natural disposition for it.
It’s why I struggle to keep a slave in the first place and find new ones when they’re needed. But if it isn’t working, then we can’t force it. That does more damage than is worth it. My goal isn’t to hurt anyone—I just want my needs met.
My lifestyle isn’t for everyone, and I need to make sure I vet people properly before taking this a step further. It’s a long process, but it’s necessary. Without it, I could ruin my life—and theirs.
We make our way down the hall, him at my side, keeping my pace. His outfit is simple: black T-shirt, black jeans, and boots. He went for discreet, which I like.
I find an empty room and let us into it, shutting the door behind us. He lets out a sound I can only describe as a squeak, which I find delightful.
“Is this too much?” I ask as I take a step closer to him. “We can leave.”
I keep the disappointment from my voice, because I was truly hoping we could move this onto the next step. But if he can’t handle a littleKinbaku, there is no way he can handle what I will ask for.
“No,” he says, gazing at the glass wall ahead of us. “I just… wasn’t expecting this.”
“And what were you expecting at a sex club?”
He turns to me with a shy smile. “Fair question.” His attention goes back to the glass, focusing on the three women beyond it who are tied up in intricate designs. One rope is yellow, another orange, and the last red.
“Is this bondage?” he questions. I don’t miss the awe in his voice, and from that, I can tell he’d be fun to train.
“Before I answer that, may I ask you something?”
“Yes,” he answers, but doesn’t pull his gaze from the women.
“Why are you here?”
His head turns toward me, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights.
“I… was… uh, curious.”
“About?”
He swallows hard. “Everything?”
“You have no experience,” I say plainly, and purposely don’t pose it as a question.
He shakes his head, eyes still wide and beautiful.
I give him a small smile. “There’s nothing wrong with that. We all start somewhere.” My attention goes back to the glass wall. “And to answer your question—no. This is so much more than bondage.”
He steps closer to the glass.
“It’s beautiful,” he says as a man enters the room. He’s wearing a tight pair of jeans and a black mask, nothing else—you can’t even see the color of his hair. His golden skin is on display under the bright lights of the room, and the outline of his thigh muscles and hard cock are clear as day.
“This isKinbaku,” I explain, stepping beside him. “It is sometimes confused forShibari, which is similar. But for those of us who dive into the art, there’s a subtle yet meaningful distinction.”
“There is?” he questions.
“Shibarimeans ‘to tie’ in Japanese. It’s the technique, the practice of binding with rope. It’s beautiful and intricate.Kinbakumeans ‘tight binding’ in Japanese, but it’s more than the physical act. It’s emotional. Intense. Erotic. It’s about the experience, the energy exchanged. There is a story being told.”
He looks up at me again, so much curiosity in his eyes. It makes my dick ache. He isn’t much shorter than me, a few inches, but that doesn’t stop him from looking at me like I hold power over him.
“You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen,” I say, shocked that the words fall from my mouth so easily. I don’t typically compliment someone unless we have an agreement. I don’t want them to get the wrong idea, and something as simple as a compliment could blur those lines.