Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Chapter Seven
FELIX
My silenced phone lights up with a notification as it sits on my desk next to a stack of notebooks. While all of our charts and paperwork at the hospital have been consolidated to only electronic now, with patients filling out forms on an iPad handed to them instead of a clipboard of papers and a pen, I still prefer to make my own notes by hand.
It’s not that I need them that way in order to refer back to them, but just the process of writing things down helps me remember them. Not a day goes by that I don’t create a list or schedule out my time on paper. It’s just how my brain works.
Seeing the orange icon for the Feeld app, I ignore the notification for now. Nothing ever comes from that venture into online dating. There had been one promising contact I made a while back, but she was all the way up in Raleigh nearly two hours away. And while I have my search results and my location set to be beyond our small town and the surrounding area on purpose, in an attempt to stay off the radar of anyone who might know me, two hours away would make it nearly impossible to have any type of real relationship.
While I’ve lost the hope of ever finding a submissive to collar and own 24/7—which to me would mean actually falling in love with a woman who would not only be my perfectly obedient sub but also my partner in life to spoil—it hasn’t kept me from seeing what’s out there in the vanilla world as myself.
When I first found the Feeld app, I had a feeling it was too good to be true. A dating app specifically for people who have similar desires and needs as my own? No having to find a way to bring up the subject of BDSM and how they feel about it?
Sure, there are plenty of posers on there, women who saw certain movies or read fictional books about the lifestyle and suddenly think they want to jump in headfirst to become someone’s submissive. Nine times out of ten, they realize they just want some kinky sex every once in a while to liven things up. They have no idea what it means to be someone’s full-time slave. But if they’re on the app, I’d know I’d be in contact with women who at least have some knowledge of what they might be getting into, what might be expected in the bedroom.
Because surely you wouldn’t join a dating site specifically for kinksters if all you want is vanilla sex. That’s what all the other sites are for.
Yes, it was risky, creating a profile as if it were on any other dating site. A quick selfie I took in my gym’s parking lot before I headed to work as the main photo. I felt I had been in the BDSM community long enough to know there wasn’t anyone local who knew me who would be on that specific app.
Anyone who knows me as a Dom has no clue who I am outside the club. I’ve taken tedious measures to make sure I can’t be identified while I’m there.
It’s why I haven’t yet taken the steps to join the club’s social media site one of the owners, Seth, created. Which I know would make it a hell of a lot easier to find someone single and looking, who lives the lifestyle, but the idea of my identity coming to light by revealing it to anyone at Club Alias keeps me from jumping in. Let the wrong person in on my secret, and it could mean the end of my career.
But more than anything, I’m not willing to risk losing Club Alias as my place of refuge.
As it stands, I have plenty of play partners at the club to keep me entertained for a lifetime. None of them know who I am in real life. I know this for a fact, because a couple of them have come into my ER. Neither of them showed any indication they knew I was the one who had them hogtied to a Sybian just the week before, or that I was the person who gave them the huge bruise on their ass they were being careful of sitting on when they came in for a cut on their finger that required stitches.
It's a heady feeling, powerful, knowing I’m completely anonymous at the club. I can be exactly who I want to be without the fear of judgement, without the worry of discrimination because of my alternative lifestyle. The black long-sleeved shirt, the black joggers that are actually scrub bottoms, the black hood and mask, the black leather fingerless gloves—not a single inch of me is recognizable. Especially when a ton of the Doms wear the exact same uniform for similar reasons.