My man and I were invited to a friend's birthday party in an SM fetish club at the weekend. Frank didn't know what to expect being a new explorer of the scene. Like a lot of people he has previously got knowledge relating to fetish and SM reality from second-hand sources so it was with anticipation that we both got ready for the event, with the wine flowing freely.
The rocket trip to Hedonist heaven we are embarking on together is flinging us both into unchartered territory much of the time. And it is really important to have someone you trust and feel safe with in any new and unknown environment to help you enjoy the bumpy ride!
So with my giggling co-pilot at my side we navigated the u-bahn to the secret club destination and rang the bell. (For 100 percent enjoyment of this story, at this point a sinister lone churchbell tolls in the background and the breathing of main character becomes shallow and quickens!).
In real life a chirpy voice said 'Are you here for the party baby?' and buzzed us in. The party was being held in a private apartment that has been transformed gradually over the last 30 years into a comfortable living space with en-suite playrooms.
The birthday girl and host were both welcoming and ushered us into the main party room to meet the other guests; a select few friends, including couples, singles and a rather glamorous, long legged transvestite or two. With a wineglass in hand we were shown to a pristine kitchen resplendent with a lovely buffet. Plenty of hot and cold and very appetising food proved a sight for sore eyes with a stomach that is sloshing with wine and devoid of proper nutrition! And as the kitchen surface seemed to be groaning under the weight, we obliged in lightening the load!! I must point out that with my inherited British tastes of tradition I always found the combination of food in a sexy party atmosphere to be a bit misplaced, but in this case it seemed perfect for giving good hedonism!
A tour of the playrooms followed and Frank's eyes lit up at the sight of a Bondage Wheel (an indication of both a better class of playroom and an affinity of boys and toys!). Lots of kit, including a queening stool, spanking bench, and St. Andrew's cross, plus a gazillion implements for use thereupon! And all equipment was free to use throughout the evening. In short,it was a hit with the newcomer!
We tested out the wheel which was in perfect working order, although for the slighter of frame like me, cuffs are generally too big which leads to a slight concern of falling and concussion!! The tied and tested rope method is a better option if you are going to try this at home kids!
We meandered between the party and playrooms and Frank got to test out the paddles, floggers, whips, pinwheels and practise his art. We shared a lot of laughs and a few bruises and for the uninitiated had an evening reminiscent of playing at Cowboys and Indians as a child, minus the Tomahawk! The only difference being that as an adult, the priority of mutual respect and understanding remains always present. A great quote from a wise friend is to be 'child-like but not childish'.
Playroom etiquette can change depending on those present, but generally for other people to be included in any situation and either participate in, or watch the scene develop, the courtesy of asking for permission is generally required. And at one point this question was posed to us, whilst I was tied and Frank was testing his aim! It was an interesting situation when sexuality is normally kept private from other people in polite company and I think probably one of the harder taboos to defeat. We gave consent for people to look on, but didn't need to in the end, as no-one returned before we rejoined the rest of the party a little later. And in retrospect a good outcome, as I think that it is important to take your time getting to know each other really well before including others into the equation. In the past I have seen the results of ignoring a partner's needs. For example whilst in a club in England a few years ago a couple were at a swingers night and the female looked aghast whilst her partner was obviously living his dream. Perhaps she ignored her own wishes in the hope of making him happy. Or perhaps he just selfishly ignored hers. Either way, the result was her calling a cab and leaving in emotional turmoil, when the situation got too hot to handle.
The party reached its natural conclusion when the empty bottles outnumbered the full ones and the thigh high boots were swapped for comfy ones on the journey home. We all left at the same time to let the resident host swap his party dress for apron and rubber gloves (also incidentally, acceptable fetish party attire). It is a unique mark of this type of gathering that on partying with a transvestite, you meet her brother on the way out of the door!
So back to Frank's happy house and instead of showing waves crashing to the shore, in the style of a fifties, heavily-censored movie, I will leave you with a mental picture of how the place looked the following morning. A long pathway consisting of two discarded coats, then shoes and high heels. A dress, a suit and at the end of the path a tangled mess of underwear and hosiery, resembling an explosion in a spaghetti factory. Every trail tells a tale!
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