Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there

By S. Dora (Guest Blogger)

Let me start by thanking Lisabet for her warm-hearted hospitality. It’s always such a pleasure to be here.

When I first got the idea for writing what would become Facing the Truth, a story about a man discovering BDSM while already in a committed relationship with another man, the main characters were both in their twenties. Soon enough I realised something: if I made the age difference considerable, it would add another, hopefully interesting, layer to the story.

I’m not just talking about the simple fact that an university student moves in an environment that is quite different from that of an office of an insurance company, or that experience and youth each have their own brand of power. In this case, it means that a gay man having been a teenager in the eighties in England very likely doesn’t have quite the same outlook on sexuality as his lover, who’s eighteen years younger.

Being gay when Isaac Newhouse was a teenager meant he wasn’t allowed to have sex with another boy or man until he was 21. Section 28 stated that a local authority "shall not intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the intention of promoting homosexuality or promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship.” AIDS was epidemic among gay men. Homophobia wasn’t the hobby of a backwards minority of people, but was deeply rooted in English society as a whole.

By the time Tom, the younger of the two, discovered he was into other boys, attitudes towards homosexuality were already dramatically changing. There’s no longer a different age of consent for straight and gay couples and Section 28 has been moved to its rightful place, the dustbin. While many individuals and several groups are still homophobic, society as a whole started to realise that homosexuality is simply a fact of life and that a legal right like marriage might actually be a good idea.

By the end of Facing the Truth, I knew the story wasn’t over yet and so a series began. Since Calling the Shots is first and foremost a series about romantic m/m BDSM erotica, the social and political background is never really mentioned, but it’s in the back of my head while I’m writing this story. I personally had my first coming-out in 1979, so I know a little about Isaac’s state of mind. That knowledge influenced how I wrote Isaac’s hesitation to start a relationship with a much younger (but fully of age) man and his journey into BDSM and Tom’s “what exactly is the problem?” attitude.

Part two of Calling the Shots, The Right Direction, is now available. Here’s a small excerpt. Isaac and Tom enjoy a weekend full of BDSM fun, in and out of the bedroom. It’s time for dinner and they ordered pizza. The following happens:

***

Tom wasn’t out of the kitchen for more than five seconds before the doorbell rang.

“That’ll be the pizza,” Tom hollered from the living room. “I’ll get it, Sir.”

“Use the groceries wallet. And don’t forget to tip the delivery boy.”

Isaac thoroughly enjoyed the small details of Tom waiting to take his first bite until his Dom had given him permission, of his glass being refilled before he had to ask. It wasn’t until halfway through the meal that he put his fork down in sudden realisation. “He saw you…”

“Who? Oh, the guy delivering the pizza,” Tom finally understood. “Probably a student, just like me.”

“He saw you.”

“Yeah—he wasn’t blind. What’s the matter, Sir? Did I do something wrong? I didn’t flirt or anything—you know I only go for my sexy Master, because he really knows how to handle both his cane and his cock.” Tom squirmed on his chair to accentuate his words. “There’s no way I’ll ever forget who owns me.”

“No, I did something wrong. How could I be this stupid?”

“You’re scaring me, Isaac… Sir… Please tell me what’s wrong so I can make it up to you. I’ll accept any punishment, but please explain…”

“Your collar. He saw you wearing my collar.”

Tom gaped at him in total incomprehension.

“An outsider saw you while you were wearing your slave collar.” Why didn’t Tom understand what he was trying to say? Was it so hard to understand the possible implications?

“Uh, he didn’t. He saw a guy of his own age in black sweatpants, a black shirt, messed up hair and, yes, a collar. To him I probably looked like a Goth or an emo or perhaps, if he’s a student too, he might think I’m one of those artistic guys from Arts.” Tom all but giggled. “If he was one of us, he’d know, no matter what I was wearing. But he wasn’t one of us.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I would know.”

Silly, naïve boy.

“Like you recognise all gay men because you’re one too?” The words hit like a badly made whip in the hands of a sick sadist. Isaac regretted them as soon as he had spoken.

“I’m not saying that…” Tom shrugged. Sadness clouded the happiness in his eyes. “You’re ashamed of us and of what we’re doing. Being Dom and sub isn’t our sweet little secret—it’s our dirty big secret.”

“No.”

Was it really no, and not perhaps a little bit, or somewhat, or even…yes?

“Tommy…”

What was he supposed to say? Hadn’t his panic spoken more truth than any of the excuses and explanations he’d been planning to use?

Facing the Truth: http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1579

The Right Direction: http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1779

My blog: http://sdora.wordpress.com/