He felt out of place, with woman and men dressed up in leather and latex, adorned with chain and flail. He wore black jeans and boots, no shirt. The lack exposed his scars and his art, piercing catching the low light
His arms, chest, and back were liberally crisscrossed with ink, most of it in shades of gray and black. His nipples pierced with silver hoops, matching the ones that adorned his ears and lower lip.
He quivered with nervousness and excitement, the sounds of leather hitting flesh intoxicating.
This was his first night at one of these meetings, if one could call it a meeting. There were maybe fifty people engaging in such a variety of different sins.
The tattoo artist who had done his most recent modifications had invited him.
He jumped as a hand ghosted over his ass.
"Hey now," the tattoo artist chuckled, "take it easy, no one's gonna hurt ya, not unless you ask them to anyway." The man smiled disarmingly before turning his attentions to the stage, where a somewhat overweight, but attractive, woman was working over a tall thin man.
The boy watched, fascinated, unable to stop his body reacting to the idea of what it would feel like to be up there, bound and unable to move as someone laid into him like that. The thin man seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit, if the moaning and withering was anything to go by.
"Wish that were you?" The man chuckled again, darkly, "it could be you know? Just say the word."
The boy turned to him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. He shook his head, no, he wasn't quite ready yet, not for that. But his eyes were drown back to the figures on the stage. His body shaking slightly.
He wasn't ready for that, not today.