Book Excerpt for Dania

Dania

By Klayton Frost

The right of Klayton Frost to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

I met Dania at university, not long after moving away from home. I can't remember quite how I got talking to her at the student union mixer, or how I ended up back at her room. In fact the first thing I really remember was sitting on her bed at about 3AM in the morning, woozy from drink, while she talked to me about BDSM. I had a glass of vodka and coke and was sitting on her bed with my back against the wall. Dania sat in the university-issue swivel chair at her desk, slender elbow propped on the arm rest, gesturing as she talked.

My first thoughts about Dania were that she was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen: blonde and soft-looking, with breasts just a little larger than mine and slim hips, a calm and half-smiling face. My second thought was this: "Oh my god, she talks about sex like it's nothing more embarrassing than her classes." I think that was what I admired most about her.

At the time I was quite the naive young thing. As I say, I'd only recently gotten away from home, and had only ever had one boyfriend before. I'd messed around with girls a little at school as well, kissing behind the bike shed, and maybe a little more. But that had been all. I had heard hints, of course, of the kind of depraved things that people did to each other, or seen things on television that had aroused my interest. Once, I remember flicking through channels and catching a glimpse of a girl, naked and suspended on a cross by thick leather cuffs. The image was gone before I could really take it in, and though I frantically flipped back through the channels I was unable to find it again.

Little glances like that had lit a fire in me each time. It was terribly confusing, of course. All through my adolescence I was possessed of the idiotic idea that I should be a good girl, and keep myself pure. I didn't want to, of course, but that was what everyone else around me talked about, and so I decided it must be what I should aspire to as well. I quashed down the excitement I felt when I saw a police officer handcuffing a woman on the front of a newspaper. I tried not to linger before the displays of men's belts in clothing stores. I resisted with all my might the inclination to read and reread a passage in a book of mine where a boy was caned for misbehaviour.

In short, I knew such things existed, but I was so shut off for them that they were only nebulous, vague concepts. If anyone had so much as whispered the word "bondage" or "spanking" to me, I would have blushed bright red.

That is, until I met Dania.

Suddenly, without knowing quite how I got there, I was sitting in her room, quite relaxed and at ease as she talked openly about flogging and whipping and tying and gags. Something about her, and about the matter-of-fact, confident way she said these things put me inexplicably at ease.

"And then you have the single tail whip. That's my favourite, but it hurts like hell. You have to be careful. If you do it too hard it can even cut the skin. It's not something to mess about with."

I sipped my vodka and coke. It was surreal, to sit here and have all these glorious secrets poured out for me. It was almost like a dream. After years of wondering, things were spread out now in front of me like an open toybox. And it felt, impossibly, like the most normal thing in the world.

Drink had made me bold. "So... do you... are you, like, the one who does things to the other one?" I asked.

Dania smiled. "You mean am I a domme?"

I'd never heard the word before, but it excited me in exactly the same way that the word "whip" did. There was something about it that was deeply and erotically feminine. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I'm the dominant one," explained Dania. "I'm the one who's in control, the one who inflicts pain. The one who fucks rather than the one who gets fucked. Usually, anyway."

It was hard to stop myself giggling at the word "fuck". Part of me was still as innocent as a schoolgirl, frightened of being caught using bad language.

"So you've whipped people?" I asked.

"Of course," said Dania.

"Girls and boys?"

"Mainly girls. Most boys don't really turn me on."

"What... what's it like?" The question trembled on its way past my lips, but I felt a thrill of excitement as soon as I'd said it.

"It's good," said Dania, smiling as if in memory. "The feeling of power is like nothing else. But it's more than that. It's seeing the way your sub - that's the submissive, the other person - seeing the way they react to the pain, or to your touch. It's so powerful, knowing what you can do to them. Knowing how much pleasure you can give them..."

She tailed off, watching my face, and I became aware of myself again. A pulse beat in between my legs, and I felt a warmth there that I hadn't felt in a long time. Her words were like matches flaring, lighting a fuse that lead directly to my brain.

There was a long, quiet moment then, both of us sitting and considering each other across the empty, intimate space of the small room. I could feel myself wavering on the edge of something, on the very lip of a world that I was both desperate and terrified to explore.

Eventually, I opened my mouth again. "Will you show me?" I said, this time without even the slightest tremor.

Dania returned my gaze, equally steady. "Certainly," she said. And then she hopped quickly to her feet. "But not tonight. You're drunk, and I want you sober the first time we play. Tomorrow. Come back tomorrow evening and then I'll... show you."

"Tomorrow evening," I repeated. It already seemed like an age away, and there was no getting away from the fact of my horniness, the need that was crawling in my belly like a hunger. "Can't we-"

"Tomorrow," said Dania firmly. "Come to my room at seven. Wear a skirt and a top. No underwear. You understand?"

I felt a little thrill that only made the longing worse. I almost shuddered with it. Being given orders by her. No underwear. "I understand," I said.

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The End

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