Page 1 of Dared
Paula
“How was your date?” Zelda asked as we ran up the road leading towards Lake Union. It was a typical Seattle day: grey and drizzling.
With the run there and back plus the six miles around the lake, by the time we were done we should have covered close to ten miles. Since Zelda and I were training to do our next half marathon, this route was a great training run for us.
“What date?” I asked, stalling for time.
Zelda gave me a stern look that I was sure worked on her submissives at the BDSM club she hung out at. Unfortunately for her, it had zero effect on me. I didn’t have a submissive bone in my body.
As always, the thought of going to a BDSM club fascinated me. I loved reading BDSM romance, both lesbian and hetero, but I couldn’t imagine that these clubs were as respectful and loving as the books made them out to be. Then again, Zelda was a total sweetheart, and I knew her well enough to be certain she wasn’t an asshole dominant. Clearly whatever she did there was working for her, because she’d fallen in love with her girlfriend at the club.
I could understand why the dominants liked BDSM clubs, even if I questioned their motives. I just couldn’t understand why the submissives liked it. I mean, who voluntarily caused themselves pain? It didn’t make any sense. I had a flash of my mother crying out in pain when my father was in a drunken rage and pushed it firmly into the box in my mind where I kept all my bad memories. No sense giving that stuff any brain space today, or any day.
“Does that mean your date sucked?” Zelda asked, pulling my thoughts back to the present.
I sighed deeply. “Yeah. I mean, the date was fine. The woman was nice enough and we had a good time chatting at dinner. But everything else was...blah.”
“We need to figure out why you can’t meet the right person,” Zelda said as we hit the path that circled the lake. “And we have a nice long run to do it.”
“I can’t meet the right person because a lot of people can’t find the right person,” I said. Realizing that didn’t make a lot of sense I added, “Besides, all the good women are taken.”
“You’re living in one of the most lesbian friendly cities in America,” Zelda reminded me. “Surely there’s someone here you can date for more than a few weeks.”
“I don’t think I even want a girlfriend,” I said. “It doesn’t seem worth the trouble.”
“Let me ask you something,” Zelda said. “When was the last time you had good sex? Not passable sex, but good, mind-blowing, you forget your own name, sex?”
“Um, maybe never?” I mumbled.
It was true. For some reason, I’d always had a hard time with sex. I mean, I had plenty of sex. Enjoyed it even. But never anything Earth shattering. I longed for the kind of sex I read about in romance books, even though I knew that was just fiction. Wasn’t it?
“When’s the last timeyouhad mind-blowing sex?” I asked my friend.
“Last night,” Zelda said smugly. “I tied Mariah to a table, dripped hot wax down her body, and then I fucked her until she was crying for mercy. Afterward I sat on her face so she could thank me properly for the orgasm.”
A rush of moisture hit my panties at that visual. Damn it, I wanted that. Not with Zelda of course but with someone...
“But you caused her pain. That’s the part I don’t get. Hot wax hurts. Why does Mariah even like that, let alone get off on it?”
Zelda sent me an appraising look.
“Some people like surrendering control, Paula. If the trust is there, the submissive can relax into the twin sensations of pain and pleasure. The pain can help them focus. For people who are always having to be everything to everyone, or people who’ve had their agency taken away in the past, it can be good to have a trusted person make decisions and have their focus on getting them out of their heads and into their bodies.”
She paused before adding, “And for some submissives, it’s the thrill of having another person one hundred percent focused on bringing them pleasure.”
We ran along in silence for a few moments before Zelda spoke up again.
“How do you feel if you think about surrendering control? Does it excite you?”
“Ugh, no.” That’s the last thing I wanted.
“Then it must be the domination that made you get that look on your face when I talked about my night with Mariah.”
“What look on my face?” I asked.
“You looked intrigued.”
Zelda paused. “Let me ask you some questions. Which part of sex do you like best, the giving or receiving?”
