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Sample from Ignite35: My Life in the Sex Fetish Community

I debated on several blog posts for this week. However, I suddenly realized that I have no sample scenes from my book Ignite35: My Life in the Sex Fetish Community on line. So...that being said, here's one of my favorite scenes from the book. It depicts my first visit to a munch and it's, largely, true. Enjoy. And if you like it, buy the book. (Even if you don't like it, buy the book. This is what the BDSM world is really like.)

   I tentatively entered the restaurant, dressed innocuously in a short sleeve, light blue, button down shirt and plain khakis. As I scanned the place, I saw two large, glass doors separating a private room from the rest of the diners. I walked over and peered in, hoping to recognize any faces that I had seen on the internet. As I stood there, blatantly conspicuous to those inside, I was noticed and several heads turned towards me. One of them, a tall, blonde lady in very smart business attire, rose from her seat, came to the door and opened it.
   “Can I help you?” she asked with a polite smile underneath a scrutinizing set of eyes.
   I swallowed hard. “Uh, yeah...” I managed as I broke into a light sweat. “Is...is this the meeting?”
   The lady’s polite grin developed a slightly wicked tint. “We’re enthusiasts,” she returned.
   “I’m enthusiastic,” I said moronically.
   They must have been used to people arriving at the munches for the first time more than a little nervous and unsure. She merely shifted her stern smile back into a more friendly one and invited me in.
   “Who are you?” she asked as she directed me toward an empty chair.
   “Uh...I’m Ignite35.”
   “Is that what you’d like to be called?”
   I considered the question. Was she suggesting that I could offer my real name? Or was she asking if my user name was merely what was available despite how I preferred to be addressed by those that I slept with? Should I tell her that I wanted to be called, Master Apollo,” or something equally as contrived? After quick consideration, I decided to just let my screen name represent me for the time being, just in case the whole thing turned out to be a bad idea.
   The entire room greeted me simultaneously with an array of friendly smiles, suspicious glares, curious gazes and condescending once-overs. I took the empty seat I had been motioned to. Directly across the table from me sat a well-dressed man, slightly older than myself, and about my size, though a bit thinner, with two pretty, young women, one on each side.
   “Is it okay if I sit here?” I asked.
   “That depends,” the man said as he sized me up. “Are you going to behave yourself?”
   “Oh, of course,” I assured him. I glanced at each of the girls and took more from his meaning. “I’m cool.”
   He smiled. It wasn’t unfriendly, but it was slightly cautionary at the same time. “Then you’re fine.”
  “Okay, everyone,” the tall blonde lady said. “The server will be back in a moment to take our orders. Until then, just for the couple of new people, why don’t we all introduce ourselves? Be sure to give your screen name. Real name is optional. And, ideally, tell us all how you identify.”
   Everyone took turns telling me, and another, apparently new, guy wearing a biker jacket, who they were, rattling off odd internet pseudonyms with the occasional touch of kink, names like Sluttypixie, Lord Solomon, The Ghost of Christmas Fuck, Mother of Creation and Gentlista. Each followed their names with a title which defined their sexual interests to some extent: slave, Dominant, hedonist, switch, sadist and a few others I wasn’t completely certain how to comprehend. When it got to the trio across from me, the girl to the man’s right introduced herself as Tinkerbrat. She had light brown, bobbed hair and fidgeted a lot. She was petite, cute and in her early twenties. The man went next.
   “I’m known as Dramatic Comedy on the website. You can call me D.C. I’m a Dom, and Tink is my girl.” He then turned to the young lady on his left and added, “And so is this one.”
    In extreme contrast to Tinkerbrat, the other girl was painfully quiet and still. I noticed that she kept her eyes focused on the table, refusing to look at anyone. She looked shy and nervous, uncomfortable even. She was beautiful, pale, with long blonde hair, svelte and appeared to be barely eighteen, though I would later learn that she was actually twenty-six.
    “Go ahead,” D.C. told her.
    “I’m Posie,” she said softly, her eyes still locked onto the table.
    The tall blonde commandeered the floor again, saying, “I’m Mistress Christina.” She then emphasized an alternative spelling of, “Xina,” after which she changed track, noting that the server was on their way back to the room and that we should employ some temporary discretion.
   As the server entered and began taking everyone’s orders, I examined my neighbors. Both Tinkerbrat and Posie wore the same necklaces, black chokers with silver charms dangling from them. As I continued to study them, Tink gave me a big, overly-amused smirk, while Posie continued to, steadfastly, focus on the table. I began to wonder if she was there against her will. D.C. just continued to stare at me with a friendly smile that was still, somehow, unnerving.
   It was at that moment that the waiter caught my attention and asked for my order. As I had yet to look at the menu, I decided to keep it simple for the purpose of expedition. I ordered a burger and a pop. The waiter next addressed his attention across the table. Before Tink could answer, D.C. announced that he and both of the girls would have tomato basil pasta.
   “But I want a cheeseburger,” Tinkerbrat protested.
   D.C. glared at her.
   “Fine,” she whined.
   Posie said nothing.
   The waiter said that our orders would be up as soon as possible and then exited. The moment he was out of the room, D.C. took the opportunity to demonstrate how discipline worked with his girls.
   “Are we going to have a problem?” he asked Tinkerbrat.
   “I don’t know,” she replied in a catty tone, “are we?”
   “Okay, that’s one,” he said. When she grunted, he asked, “Do you want to go for two?”
   She gritted her teeth, but said nothing. D.C. looked back at me and shook his head. “Subs,” he said.
   I tried to agree with a smile, but wasn’t fully sure if I knew what it was that I was agreeing with. I also couldn’t help but to keep glancing over at Posie. Finally, I couldn’t contain my curiosity any longer. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry, but...is she okay?” I asked D.C.
   “She will be,” he assured me. “She’s just in trouble. Her punishment is restricted eye contact.”
   “I beg your pardon?”
   “She’s not allowed to look anyone in the eye tonight.”
   “I see.” I struggled with the information for a bit before continuing my inquiry. “If I may ask...what did she do?”
   Posie noticeably blushed and Tinkerbrat chuckled loudly. D.C. shot the brunette a dirty look before telling me that his other sub had been receiving behavioral training and that she had broken the rules.
I nodded and tried hard to pretend like I understood. Neither D.C. nor Tinkerbrat were fooled for even a moment and both displayed expressions of amusement at my novice responses to their strange little games. Tink began looking like she was going to burst, until finally letting out an explanation, far louder than was necessary.
   “She isn’t allowed to masturbate right now and he caught her doing it!”
   I looked over at Posie, who’s pale skin was now the color of an apple. When I looked back at Tink and D.C., she was laughing and he was giving her a withering glare.
   “That was not the original cause for the punishment and you know it,” he told her. He turned his attention back to me. “Posie is trying to quit smoking. She cheated and so I took away a privilege. She broke that restriction and now here we are.”
   “She was baaaad,” Tink sang sarcastically.
   “She wouldn’t have as hard of a time with it,” he told her, “if you would stop doing it in front of her.”
   “Uh, doing which in front of her?” I heard myself ask.
    D.C. started to answer, but then stopped.
   “Hey, if she just had more self control─” Tinkerbrat broke in.
   “Tink...” D.C. said as he held his palm up, his fingers spread. His sub looked like she wanted to say something, but then slumped back in her chair, arms crossed and an irritated pout across her face.
    I looked back stunned. “What was that?”
   “She’s not allowed to speak for the next five minutes.”
   “Wow. How do you manage that?”
   “You have to train them right.” His mischievous grin remained firmly in place while Tink scowled. He went on to explain to me that, “Tinkerbrat,” wasn’t just a name, it was how she identified. When I asked for more details, he told me that a brat was a sub that acted out despite full knowledge that they would be disciplined for it. “In Tink’s case,” he continued, “she acts like a bitch because she is one. Or rather, she doesn’t always know how to express herself well, so she just misbehaves to get attention and test boundaries. Still, she is aware that she will pay for it and secretly enjoys it.”
    The sour look on his sub’s face seemed to contradict this conclusion, yet she did remain silent.
   “And her?” I nodded toward Posie.
   “There are all kinds of names for Pos. Some use words like acolyte sub, but I’m not too fond of that, because it implies too much of a god-complex on my part. Another term I’ve heard is kajira. But I don’t like that term either. Kajirae have no life of their own. Posie has a job, her own money, possessions and rights, like anyone else. I’d say she’s a loving sub. A slave, really. She’s formally collared and she’s mine.” He reached over and lifted the charm on her necklace. He turned his attention to Tink and touched hers, adding, “They both are.”
   Tinkerbrat swatted his hand away. D.C.’s response was to reach under the table and do something invisible to myself, but that elicited a silent expression of pain on Tink’s part.
   “Are you done showing your ass?” he asked her.
   She continued to bite her lip and clench her eyes closed. D.C. applied more of whatever he was doing to her and her eyes and mouth opened. She still didn’t make a sound, but it was clear from the sudden, serious look on her face that she was ready to give in. She bit her lip again and nodded furiously, causing her Dom to relent.
   “They’re a handful,” he said to me.
   My head was starting to swim. I was already starting to wonder if I could fit into a community like this or if I was simply someone who had a secret desire to hold a willing party down by the throat while I fucked them. Before I could pick his brain for more details, a very large woman came to our end of the table...and I do mean large, in both width and height. Her hair was black and wavy and she bore a pleasant smile.
   “Hey, kids,” she said cheerfully. “I’m gonna come talk to you all for a while.”
   “Cathy,” D.C. greeted her. “How are you?”
   “I’m good. How are you?”
   “Doing well. Just chatting with...” He paused as he struggled to remember the name I had given.
   “Ignite35,” I reminded him. “...Or just Ignite, I guess.”
   “Hi,” the lady said. “I’m Cathy. Mother of Creation. Most people around here call me Momma C.”
   “It’s very nice to meet you.”
   “What’s going on here?” she asked, as she laid a hand on Posie’s shoulder. She immediately pulled it away, almost like she’d put it into scalding water. “I’m sorry,” she said to D.C. “May I touch her?”
   “Of course, Cat. You can always touch the girls. You should know that by now.” He stroked the blonde’s hair and informed Momma C. that what she was witnessing was punishment.
   “Aww. What’d she do?”
   “She’s just having trouble showing restraint.”
   “That’s unfortunate.” She leaned down and gave Posie a hug. “You doing okay other than that, honey bunch?”
   “Yes, ma’am,” Posie said quietly, with a soft smile.
   Momma C. hugged her again before noticing Tinkerbrat. “Let me guess. Sammie, over there is in a time out.”
   “It wouldn’t be a munch if she wasn’t at least once.”
   Tink continued to sulk. Momma C. went to hug her too and then gave D.C. one of his own. She sat at the end of the table and addressed me, asking what had led me there.
   “I just moved here,” I told her. “I was in a...not so good, I guess...relationship where I was living. Among other things, very...vanilla?” I waited for a look of confirmation from her, that I had used the word correctly. “It fell apart and things weren’t going too well in my life, so when I was offered a job over here, I took it.”
   “Can I ask what you do?”
   I thought for a bit. This woman had allowed me to learn her real name, so obviously there was some level of openness within the community. Still, I decided that it wasn’t wise and declined to answer. Momma C. respected that decision and moved on to the question of how I identified.
   “Oh, uh...a Dom,” I told her. I immediately felt like the term didn’t fit. At that moment, control and authority were things that I lacked an abundance of.
   “That’s a shame,” she said. “You’re cute. I would have enjoyed beating your ass sometime.”
   That took me by surprise. She and D.C. laughed and I realized that she was teasing me just a bit, but not entirely.
   Suddenly, Tink spoke up. “It’s been five minutes,” she said in a pitiful and regretful tone. Her arms uncrossed and rested in her lap.
   “Yes, it has,” D.C. agreed. He leaned over and kissed the side of her head. “Think you can behave for the rest of the munch?”
   “Yes, Sir.”
   “Good girl. Make me proud.”
   “How did you end up with two submissives?” I asked.
   Momma C. immediately started to laugh again. “The guys are always so fascinated with you D.C. ‘How did you get two pretty girls? Where can I find an arrangement like that?’”
   D.C. was amused and decided to mess with me a bit. “Well, first you have to kidnap them. Rohypnol helps, as does chloroform. Then you cage them and starve them until they develop Stockholm syndrome. At that point, you reprogram them into obedience.”
    I stared. Momma C. almost fell out of her chair as she howled.
   “I’m joking,” he assured me. “I had Tink first. We met while doing volunteer work for a local charity.”
   “You were doing volunteer work. I was doing community service,” Tinkerbrat clarified.
   “Right. Well, we’d lunch together everyday and started hanging out. That community service was the result of a D.U.I., so she couldn’t drive. I gave her rides and we became friends. After a while, she began to realize that I was very secretive about some of my down time.”
   “You wouldn’t say hardly anything,” she broke in again. “It was all cryptic. I thought you were a mobster or some shit.”
   “Be that as it may, I eventually trusted her enough to let her in on my involvement in the community and she became very interested and very insistent that I teach her about the lifestyle. We discussed it for a few weeks, and I decided that it might be good for her and that she could fit in.”
   “And she has...quite well,” Momma C. added, reaching over to pat her hand.
   “I see. And Posie?”
   “She was a gift,” Tink beamed.
   “Sorry. What?”
   D.C. picked up the explanation again. “By some miracle, Tink managed to behave herself for a few weeks. I told her she could have whatever she wanted for her birthday. She said that she wanted another girl. We started advertising. We met and interviewed a few women, played with a couple... Eventually, we found Pos, here. I actually knew her already, but only in passing, and had no idea that she’d gotten involved in the lifestyle. Regardless, we talked about it for a long time, experimented a bit until, finally, the three of us made it a formal arrangement.”
   “Okay,” I said, surely appearing, at that point, like a kindergartener in a physics class. I turned to Tinkerbrat. “Why did you want another girl?”
    The tone in her response implied that I might be an idiot. “Because I wanted pussy and didn’t have any.”
    Everyone smiled, even Posie.

Just a taste, Hope you enjoyed it. If so, get the whole thing on Amazon.







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