Red Ribbon, pt 2

Red Ribbon, Part 2

This is one of the first things I wrote, and my lack of skill is apparent. From the over-done storyline to the awkward an amateurish writing this is so bad, it’s entertaining.

Copyright (c) Lila Dubois 2007. This is unedited, and I am an infamously bad self-editor, so read at your own risk.


Well that’s done it, Liz though, I’ve truly had enough.

Reaching up Liz yanked at the red ribbon around her neck, jerking it free. Some of the men glanced up at her, frowning, but none approached her. That more than anything solidified Liz’s belief that these men were nothing but posers, playing Dominant when in reality they were users and losers. Setting her cup down on the nearest table with a loud snap Elizabeth strode proudly from the room. Some eyes were on her, watching the sway of her hips and breasts, as if focusing on the parts of her that they could understand, and control. These oh-so-powerful men shied away from her as a whole: the sexy, sexual, powerful woman, who did not need losers like them to give meaning to her life.

Liz made her way into the long hallway of the community center. The organization which was hosting the event had rented out the small one story building for the evening. The event, called The Gathering, was an invitation only affair held four times a year. Liz had received her invitation upon her competition of a BDSM 101 class.

Liz had stumbled onto an advertisement for the class buried deep in one of her favorite erotic stories websites. The class had claimed to be an introduction to living a BDSM lifestyle in the real world, the perfect bridge for people who wanted to make their fantasies a reality. Growing continually tired of living her sexual fantasies in her head Liz had signed up for the class, which was hosted at the neutral location of a community center.

As far as everyone but the members of the class knew it was an introduction to wine tasting class that met once a week for ten weeks. Liz had paid the $500 fee with her Visa and had been relieved to have the charge show up as “Vineyard Educational Services” as opposed to “BDSM 101”, which she had half feared. The ten week class had been purely informational, each session a one hour lecture with Q and A and then discussion time.

Liz had thought many of the ‘rules’ which they taught the class seemed more like common sense, most dittos had titles like: “Why it is important to have a way to say No: Safewords.” At the end of the course they had a few guest lecturers, including one real life Dom. It was the memory of this Dom that kept Liz from giving up all hope. While he wasn’t really what she would ideally want in a Dom he was much closer than any of the pricks in the community center tonight.

He had been introduced to them as Master Lucien. Tall and lean he had been impeccably dressed with a firm steady manner. With medium brown hair and hazel eyes he had the good looks of a lawyer or businessman. One look at him and you knew that he was a man who lived by rules and codes of conduct.

As far as Liz was concerned there had not been anyone there tonight who had come even close to Master Lucien in either appearance or manner. Mr. Lucien, as he had told them to call him, was living proof that there were real Dominants out there. Liz had come to The Gathering tonight hoping to find her Mr. Right. She had placed a lot of hope on this night. The months of attending the class, years of scouring erotic stores and the internet to feed her desire, and a lifetime of fantasies had brought her to this night.

And it was a disaster.

With quickening steps Liz strode down the hallway of the community center, past other rooms filled with members of the BDSM community, both seasoned players and new hopefuls.

A less determined, less sexually frustrated person would have given up, but even as she pushed through the double doors leading to the parking lot Liz was forming a new plan of action. This was only the first one of these events she had attended. There would be another one in a few months. Until then she would go through some of the contacts that they had been given in class, on-line messages boards and yahoo groups.

So intent was she on formulating a new plan of action that she almost did not see the man who stood slumped against the grill of a big SUV. He was perfectly still in the security light which illuminated the parking lot. Liz’s first impression of him was one of size. This guy was BIG. His slumped posture made it all the more apparent that when he straightened he would tower over her. Dark hair hung down to his neck, a few strands had fallen in front of his face shielding it from view. He was dressed in casual jeans and tight t-shirt which was pulled taught across his arms and shoulders.

For a minute Liz stood frozen her heart picking up speed as hoped bloomed. It was unlikely that someone not in the scene would be standing outside the community center at 9 p.m. on a Thursday night. Could he be a Dom? He was the perfect physically embodiment of what Liz wanted in her dominant: big, strong, with muscles to sink her fingers and teeth into, someone who she could trust not only emotionally, but physically.

Knowing her luck he was probably a sub waiting for one of the Dominatrixes inside. With a disgusted sigh Liz started walking again, headed towards her car, which she now realized was parked only two down from the SUV. As her heels clicked closer the dark haired dream looked up.

The way he moved, his head snapping up, eyes bright and sharp, made Liz think of a predator. Raising her own chin a notch Liz kept walking, but as she got closer her steps slowed as she studied his face. A face she knew.

Straight dark eyebrows had pulled together over his nose as he frowned as her, conflicted with the same feeling of recognition. It was he who remembered first, his features falling back into a relaxed position and his lips curled up in a devastatingly sexy closed lip smile.

“Lizabeth? Lizabeth Brown?”



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