SubMarine: I've heard of that show. And there's not much to put on hold, so that's not a hardship
DomicronPersei8: Thanks for the assist, extraordinAIRe.
SubLily: That's it, I'm going to make a new account as soon as I come up with a clever name.
Chapter 7
AARON
Aaron rearranged the pillow behind him, smiling as he reread the banter in the chatroom. Despite being virtual strangers, they never failed to improve his mood.
And his mood needed improving.
Earlier, he’d read yet another BDSM etiquette article. It didn’t tell him anything new, and he wasn’t even sure why he kept clicking on them. Probably a compulsive need to make up for his lack of experience. Sadly, all the research in the world couldn’t erase the fact that he was pushing forty and a complete newbie to the lifestyle he’d coveted since he was a teenager. An embarrassingly late bloomer.
It hadn’t been an issue of self-awareness. He’d known he was a sub even before learning about BDSM. Since puberty, when his hormones had made him spend a little too much time thinking about sex, he’d craved the thrill of obedience. The quiet euphoria of kneeling. The explosive satisfaction of being used.
The mere idea of being at someone’s mercy sent shivers down his spine.
Meeting Mark in college and getting married three months after graduation had put a stop to realizing those fantasies. Sure, Aaron had brought up the idea of kink a few times during their marriage, and Mark tried. He really tried. But Mark had married the assertive and self-assured Aaron for a reason. The man just didn’t have it in him to take control.
It hadn’t really mattered to Aaron then, because they were happy in every other way. He learned to indulge his desires in solitude, honing the detailed and filthy scenarios in his mind as he clamped his nipples and impaled himself on the largest dildo in his collection.
It might’ve stayed that way forever if not for a series of random events, starting with some small talk at a conference and ending with a job offer seven hundred miles away. After a few difficult conversations about the move, Aaron and Mark came to the conclusion that they would always love each other, but their marriage was over. There was no passion left—just a deep platonic love.
The next time Aaron revisited his elaborate fantasies, it was with a sharp sense of possibility. He approached it as any other project—conducting extensive research, setting up milestones, and crafting a plan he was determined to follow.
Three months later, he’d made some progress. He defined his limits, joined Chain Reaction, and, most importantly, foundKink Talk, an offshoot chatroom from a BDSM forum. A place for the curious, the under-experienced, and those who questioned if they truly belonged in the lifestyle.
New people popped in and out of the chatroom all the time, but the core group had remained the same, and Aaron looked forward to reading the chats and feeling like he belonged.
Some of the members—like SubMarine, who constantly bemoaned the fact that no one wanted to dominate a hulking ex-Marine, or SubLime, who lived somewhere rural and never had the opportunity to explore the scene—were complete newbies like Aaron. On the other end of the spectrum were the experienced people like DomandDommer, who was surprisingly helpful and laid-back for a Dom, and DomicronPersei8, a sweet, nerdy mess of insecurities and eagerness to learn. They mostlyoffered advice based on their experience and occasionally shared their own struggles.
Not everyone was as forthcoming with their reasons for joining. SubZero, who always managed to lighten the mood with his offbeat sense of humor and unapologetic love of restraints, never asked any questions or shared anything personal. And all SubLily ever did was tell everyone what to think, making Aaron wonder if she didn’t have some secret Dom tendencies.
Even though he was curious to know more about each of them, Aaron didn’t pry. Everyone was on their own journey. All he knew was that he loved and appreciated their virtual company.
Did they feel the same way about Aaron? He never had much to add to the conversations, but he was open and honest about his progress. One day—hopefully soon—he’d have something to share.
As he scrolled through the chat, a message from Mark popped up on the screen.
MARK: Are you ready for visitors yet?
A defeated sigh escaped Aaron’s lips. Mark’s girlfriend, Rachel, mentioned wanting to visit Chicago over dinner when he visited, but Aaron had foolishly assumed she meant sometime in the distant future. Apparently, he’d been wrong.
He looked around his bedroom, eyeing the heavy mahogany bed frame and a matching nightstand surrounded by half-unpacked boxes stacked against the walls. The rest of the apartment was in even worse shape. He hung his head in resignation and typed out a response.
AARON: I’m really not. Give me a few weeks to buy some furniture and unpack?
MARK: It’s been three and a half months! How are you not unpacked yet?
AARON: I’ve been busy! I told you, the new job is an all-consuming beast.
There was a pause, just long enough for Aaron to think that Mark had given up, before his phone chirped again.
MARK: Rachel can take some time off next month. Is that enough time?
AARON: Sure. I will toil day and night to make sure you have every amenity. God forbid you have to set foot in a hotel.
