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CHAPTER EIGHT: KAYZ NEWS - PART TWO
“Wonder if what’s worth it?” Max tucked her legs beneath her and settled in the chair with her mug again.
“This,” Pip said, pointing out the office window at Donovan’s. “All of it.” She sighed, looking at her friends. “I love kink, I do. I love the community and the people in it.” She gave a half-smile. “It’s the first place that really accepted me, the whole and honest all of me. Where I didn’t have to hide or pretend. I know that, done right, kink can be freeing and fulfilling.” She frowned. “But, when it goes wrong...”
“It’s why we form communities.” Max nodded. “Because, in numbers, we can protect each other. We watch out for one another.”
“But the very fact that we have to,” Pip wondered aloud, “doesn’t that say something about us? That we’re the kind of people who need to be watched over? Need protection?” And didn’t it kind of imply that they were the type of people that others needed to be protected from? “Do you ever just wonder if what we do is actually healthy or if it just messes people up?” She sat back and shook her head, sighing. “Or if maybe, at best, it’s just the messed-up thing messed-up people do in an attempt to feel healthy?”
Max scooted forward, tilted her head one way and then the other, her pretty, painted lips pursing. “Sure,” she admitted, “what we do is a little nuts and dangerous and risky, but that’s why we do it together. It’s why we join in groups. Why we form communities. To make sure that we take care of each other.”
“Everybody’s broken,” Hayato added, crossing his arms over his chest. “The more I see of the world, the more I’m convinced of this.”
Max smiled and shrugged. “How lucky are we that we’ve found people broken like us who help us keep ourselves together?”
Pip gave a small chuckle. “I suppose,” she said before making a face. “But that makes it sound like therapy.” She thought about the scene they’d just had. How she’d pretty much used them to exorcize her day’s demons. “And that’s not what it’s supposed to be about. BDSM play—whatever it looks like—is supposed to be about pleasure, not pain. I mean,” she said with a shrug, “it’s supposed to make you feel good but, at the end of the day, it doesn’t fix anything.” If you were broken before the scene began, you were guaranteed to still be broken afterward. And, because of the mind-fuck nature of the game, you ran the risk of breaking yourself further. Not to mention, breaking anyone else you played with.
It was why Pip always advised people to be in good physical, mental, and emotional shape before engaging in play. Playing while your emotions were unstable was irresponsible and never turned out well, in the end. And was a good way to get someone hurt, yourself or your partners.
Too bad Pip wasn’t great at taking her own advice.
“You’re right; it doesn’t fix anything,” Hayato agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t let it make you feel good in that moment, let it get you to a headspace where you can fix things.”
Pip nodded. “Like a stress reliever.”
“Some people exercise.” Max shrugged. “Some people meditate.”
“And we smack the crap out of each other.” Pip grinned.
“Because we care,” Max said, only mostly sarcastically.
“We give and take pleasure with each other.” Hayato looked at both women fondly. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Whether it’s healthy or unhealthy,” he said with a shake of his head, “that depends on what a person does with it.”
And who they do it with.
Pip looked at her friends, grateful to have people who were there for her. To watch out for her.
Everyone should be so lucky.
———
Sam stared at her computer screen and frowned. Even though his conference was finished, Fischer wouldn’t be coming back from Los Angeles for another three days. Sam knew that he had friends in that area, other people he messaged and wanted to see and spend time with.
But she missed him.
She wanted to be the one seeing, spending time, and playing with him.
He hadn’t even messaged her since she’d sent him the photo—and, after she’d told him how she’d taken the picture, the video—of her tied up.
She frowned. He hadn’t even sent a thank you. Or even an email saying he’d gotten it.
Sam closed her email and signed into the site Pip had told her about. She’d created an account but had been a little wary of doing much more than that. The site was…a little intimidating. On Steele’s Secret, they talked about fictional scenes filled with fictional characters. Even the few people who told stories about their own experiences, it always felt a little like romantically glazed over, fade-to-black stories with blindfolds and handcuffs and light spanking.
When she’d signed onto SyncKink, she’d seen photos of people being suspended from ceilings. Some with hooks and ties embedded into their skin. She’d read posts from people swapping stories about knife play and abduction fantasies. She’d seen a video—that she’d been too afraid to actually watch—of a waterboarding scene.
Even the posts about light spanking or handcuffs or blindfolds felt different on this site. Less fuzzy and fanciful and much more unvarnished and in-your-face. A part of Sam had always wondered how many of the stories on Steele’s Secret were real and how many were just fantasies framed as truth. On SyncKink, there was no doubt that those posts were true. That the people and stories and acts actually existed. The site hid nothing—nudity, profanity, and vulgarity were not only openly used, but were almost joyously celebrated.
A part of Sam was legitimately shocked by it all.
But a part of her was also utterly intrigued.
She searched for the username Pip had given her. Deviant_Nerd. Sam’s eyes widened. She had over nine hundred friends and belonged to over thirty groups on the site. Ask a Mistress. Subspace. Toy Box. Kinky Geeks.
Sam saw that Pip was going to an event tomorrow night. Game Night Meet-Up Munch at Café Bien. She clicked on it.
Come join Donovan’s and CinKY for dinner, drinks, and board games in the Café Bien party room at 7:30pm. Everyone’s welcome, but please RSVP so we can make sure we have enough seating and staff. This is a meet-up and not a play event; please dress and act accordingly. And, as always, tip your waiter!
Hope to see you there.
Sam bit her lip, her mouse hovering over the Attending button. Pip would give her a ride there. She’d all but said as much last time they’d talked. Sam had so many questions, wondered so much about this lifestyle. What was real? What wasn’t? Why did she want this? Why didn’t everyone?
She wanted to learn. Wanted to feel like she was part of something.
A community, Pip had called it.
It sounded nice.
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