Used (The Playground Club #2)

1. Prologue

Prologue

Marshall

“ T his is stupid,” I complain.

“No. It’s not stupid.” Juliana, a gorgeous plus-size blonde and one of the owners of The Playground Club and Resort says with a serious look on her face. “You’re the perfect person for this.”

Every year, during the week ringing in the New Year, The Playground hosts a retreat for swingers and BDSM practitioners.

The event has everything someone could want out of a sexy vacation: relaxation at the resort and its amenities, educational courses and classes, parties, and, of course, access to The Playground Club and its play spaces. It is one of the most significant events of its kind, and people come from around the world to participate .

Somehow, I’ve been roped into teaching a class on consent and negotiation to a massive group of people today, but now that I’m here, I regret saying yes.

“Ma’am. With all due respect, I’m more of a man whore than a sex educator.” I protest.

“Maybe. But you’re also one of the club’s most loyal and well-respected patrons with your bull status.” She says.

“Dragon.” I correct.

“Dragon, right. Apologies, I know how sensitive you are about that.” She acquiesces with a wince.

“Not sensitive.” I shrug. “It’s just the more accurate descriptor for me. I may sleep with hot wives and vixens and the like, but I’m more pansexual than anything else. I sleep with people because of who they are, not their kinks.”

“Right. And that’s what makes you perfect for this.” She continues with a small smile. “I know you’re nervous, but there’s no one better to lead a class on consent than you. These people want to hear what you have to say. That’s why they’re here.”

I look around the room at all the people who’ve gathered for the seminar Juliana convinced me to lead.

“What do I even say?” I ask.

“Did you not prepare anything?” She says with raised eyebrows.

“Nah,” I reply sheepishly.

“Guess you’re winging it then.” She chuckles before handing me the microphone and gesturing for me to go to the front of the room.

I look out at the nearly 100 people who’ve gathered in the ballroom of the resort, all of them looking at me as though I have answers to all their questions .

“Uh... I’m Marshall....” I let out a nervous chuckle. “I gotta be honest… I have no idea what I’m doing up here.”

An uncomfortable silence descends upon the room as people settle in, but I keep going.

“I’m sure there are plenty of people smarter than me who could lead a session on consent and negotiation like this. I don’t have any fancy credentials or years of being an educator to prove to you I know what I’m talking about.” I admit.

When I pause, a few people throughout the room—probably twenty or so—get up and start to move toward the exit.

“So. Yeah, if you wanna follow the crowd and leave, I don’t blame you. I’m not a professional.” I smirk when one fat old white guy gives me a disapproving look. “What I am is a normal guy who loves sex. One who’s had a lot of it with many different partners. So, I like to think I’ve learned a thing or two about the subject.”

A few people who had begun to rise out of their seats sit back down, settling some of my nerves.

“The one thing I can tell you that you don’t learn in a book or a classroom is: sleeping with people is messy.” I start, slipping more comfortably into my usual charming persona. “In my experience, which there’s been some great ones and some awful ones—if you don’t have a solid understanding of consent and how to communicate it with your partner, then you’re screwed. And not in a fun way.”

A few chuckles come from the audience, further relaxing me. I grab an empty chair from the front row and turn it around so I can straddle it backward.

“Consent is a lot like water; it comes in different forms; it can be there one minute and evaporate the next. But most importantly, it’s vital to life.” I say, scanning the crowd from where I sit. “There’s a ton of different acronyms around consent. FRIES, SSC, RACK, PRICK, and CRISP are the ones that come to mind. They all have their merits and drawbacks, but each highlights important aspects of consent.”

I get nods from a majority of the people in the room, a good sign that I’m doing something fucking right.

“Y’all may have heard of or have experience with different types of play: stags and vixens, cucking, consensual-non-consent, free use, and hell, even vanilla sex is a flavor on its own. But the thing that connects all of them is their need for consent.”

A hand raises in the back, a younger woman who looks to be about 30 with bright green hair and piercings galore.

“Oh, cool. Yeah, questions are great. What’s up?” I ask.

“What’s free use?” She asks.

“Ah. Free use is a relatively new kink that’s been popularized by porn.”

Several people’s noses wrinkle at the mention of porn.

Prudes.

“Most people know what CNC, consensual-non-consent, is, like rape play and such.” I pause, trying to figure out how best to explain the kink. “The idea behind it isn’t too far off from that. I might even put it under CNC as its umbrella term, but I don’t make those kinds of decisions.”

I chuckle along with several people in the audience.

“Basically, the kink is that sex is available to partners at all times. In a dynamic that utilizes free use, one or both of the partners have consented to have sex with or be ‘used’ by the other at any time. Make sense?”

The woman looks a little unsure, so I continue .

“For example, I come home from work and find my partner in the kitchen making dinner. I start pulling off her clothes, and I tell her I’m going to fuck her on the counter as I’m pulling out my cock. Then you, well... fuck. But the key is that it’s not up to the other partner whether or not they want to have sex.”

Several people in the crowd nod, but a few look bewildered at the idea.

“The key to the whole kink, though, is that all of this has been pre-negotiated and agreed upon,” I say, my voice low and calm to denote the seriousness of my words in contrast to my earlier jokes. “There’s a clear understanding of the dynamic and any limitations placed around play. Most importantly, both parties understand that consent can be revoked anytime.”

A man with graying hair, probably in his forties, raises his hand.

“Yeah,” I say.

“How do you negotiate something like that?” He asks loudly, which makes the woman next to him blush furiously.

“Well...” I ponder his question for a minute and smile charmingly. “Why don’t you come up to the front, and we can show everyone?”

Immediately, the man shrinks back into his chair, and I internally laugh.

Of course, he’d shy away at the suggestion.

“Nah? Okay. Anyone else wanna give it a go?” I ask the room.

The green-haired young woman’s hand shoots up.

“Alright!” I say enthusiastically. “Come on up here and tell me your name. Then we can dive into the fun stuff.”

When I look around, everyone in the audience is leaning forward in their chairs .

When the young woman reached the front of the room, I hold out my hand to shake hers.

And we’re off .