Clubs and My Collapsing Morals

I feel as if my level of club-going is gradually rising up some sort of perve club thermometer scale. It started with Torture Garden in Brighton. I'd been to TG a couple of times before, years ago, but in the capacity of 'a bunch of goths going out in some pretty clothes to see and be seen'. This was a very different experience, because although I didn't play, I was a self-defined newbie to bdsm and framed the outing for myself very firmly identifying it as part of my journey of sexual experimentation.

Or at least - that was the plan. Despite being with some lovely people, relaxing enough to zone out on the dance floor for nearly an hour, and being lucky enough to be the meat in a sandwich of two stunning women, both biting my neck at the same time, something which should have turned me to absolute jelly - I just wasn't having fun. I found the setting intimidating and disturbing, and not in a good way. There were far too many people, and the venue was stuffy and overheated. Many of the people watching play were detached and judgemental. My libido shrivelled in the face of this scrutiny -  I swore I would never expose my body to ridicule like that, never play in public, in front of people. The cruel little jibes which were being made about the play were about girls with the most perfect of bodies. My God, what would they make of ME?!

After this experience, I went really quite reluctantly to Tipping The Velvet, with N. Even the thought of any public play here, with the TG format very much at the forefront of my mind, made me feel a bit tearful. However, TtV was so different from TG it was like another world. Now TtV is my sort of club - catering to all the senses, and with a warm, welcoming, nurturing environment. I was still pretty freaked from TG, and although there were a very much smaller number of attendees at TtV, I was still intimidated about playing, because there wasn't anyone there who wasn't a stunner. Gradually I loosened up though, as everyone was SO friendly, SO kind and warm-spirited, and eventually I felt able to let N tie me up to the St Andrews Cross and hit me with a bunch of stuff.

My god, that is so sexy. Feeling your limbs spread apart and pulled, bound, out of control. How exciting to feel a hot rush of anger and know I can't hurt anyone, I can't explode the world, I can't destroy anything. At that point I was still trying not to hurt her feelings so I was shocked at my own self when I called her a bitch and told her to fuck off. Several times. I fought so hard she had to put the waist strap on - she told me afterwards she was worried I would have the whole cross over on the floor. She was a little concerned and not sure what was happening in my head, so she came to the front and said 'Do you still love me?' I kissed her...

Afterwards I was all floppy and feeble, and she wrapped me up in fluffy blankets and put me to bed right there on the floor, on the mattress we'd brought with us. At TtV you can stay overnight if you bring a bed to sleep on - considering its location, that's a great option.

The next day we went to LAM, and went to the aftershow party with N, BD and JM. I was quite relaxed by then, and looking forward to some more play. Until we went back upstairs to the party - and to my horror all the fear came flooding back. The venue was brightly lit, and people sat watching the small amount of play as if it was some sort of cabaret. I almost expected a man in a top hat to come out and compere. I suddenly felt like crying, a small part of which was disappointment, knowing there was no way I could do this. I watched with a mixture of interest and envy as N gave BD a good warm-up. How simple he made it seem, how naturally and casually he schucked his clothes and let people watch the expressions on his face, and the marking on his body develop. In contrast I felt my cheeks blaze just walking across the floor to the toilet!

And yet, and yet, and yet....I wanted it. You know those television dramas where there's some sort of disaster, and you get the set-up beforehand? And it's usually something small and insignificant, for example, a piece of glass in the sunshine on a forest floor, that in reality no-one would bat a falsh eyelash at, but because it's Fiction you know without a doubt it's an Important Piece of the Story? That's how I feel about BDSM. As if my internal landscape is being remade and reborn in the forge of sexual desire. And it all started with something so small, but the Story was waiting to happen even before that - for always before that. And it can't not continue to happen, I have to follow the Story now, as the plot unfolds and the fire burns down the forest...

So I let her tie me to the spanking bench and flog and spank and paddle and cane me...and I thrashed around so much one of the crew came and checked on us, and N had to hold me down with all her weight across my back. And obscenities poured out of my mouth and it....felt....so.....goood. I wanted to grind myself into that damn bench until I burnt a hole in it. But afterwards my brain exploded, and I felt ashamed, and found myself crying desperately on the way home. I needed time to process the experience, and reflect on it. Once I'd done this, I had nothing but positive feelings about it. I was glad I'd done it, and looking at my impressive collection of bruises made me feel naughty and saucy and all things hot.

My next outing was to Guilty Pleasures in Hastings. The club was amazing, and kitted out wonderfully. I had fun chatting to lots of new people, and we had arranged I would try playing with BD. This was to be my first play with anyone other than N, my first play with a man, and lots of other firsts besides. After a short session where I was chained with my arms above my head to the cross, and faced front while N lifted my skirt and did some quite obscene things to me, late in the evening BBD took me off and tied me to the same cross, but facing inwards. N was there all the time checking on me. But my head was in such a muddle I didn't use my safe word when I should have, and came over a little peculiar. Within moments, both of them were helping me recover, but I had to have a little lie-down on the floor. It was quite possibly the most embarrassing thing that has happened to me in years. For extra social awkwardness, the club organisers were trying to clear up as it was the end of the night. They couldn't have been more kind, but I still wanted to find a cavern somewhere in the middle of a sparsely populated desert and live in it for the rest of my life.

I was shocked and upset about it. Even just thinking about it afterwards, made me feel faint again, until several days later. My husband was furious, and quite appalled I'd been so stupid, and worried it could happen again. But, you know what? After a little time passed, I'm okay with it. It happened, it taught me a lesson, I've moved on. The bruises have almost faded, and as my body recovered and healed, my mind did too, on much the same time scale.

My most recent visit was to the launch night of Club Crimson. It was a great venue, with blinding music, an astonishing array of kit. Esinem's rope demo made me go All Wrong - especially when he pulled out the big knife. I could feel my eyelids fluttering just watching. I was so turned on I needed play shortly afterwards, and N was kind enough to oblige. She chained me to a big frame with my wrists in cuffs but spread apart over my head. She didn't chain my ankles, which in hindsight may have been a mistake, as I nearly took out the wall in front of me, and a kind observer had to move the kneeling bench out of the way so I didn't trash it. She pulled my knickers down and spanked me - there was no need to pull my dress up as it was so short just putting my arms over my head did the job nicely! She yanked my hair right back which makes me just 'ahhhhhh' gently. God, I love being roughed up. I just want to be dragged about and thrown around and have my hair pulled lovely and hard, and my neck bitten over and over again. I've never met anyone willing to physically force me to their will before, and I think I would struggle not to find anyone attractive who could shove me roughly up against a wall just with the strength in their body. Or drop me to my knees by my hair. Or...

ANYWAY. It's probably a good thing I've got N around to put a brake on my libido. If anyone she didn't approve of tried to touch me, she'd probably whip them a new asshole.

She worked me over until I'd gone from desire to anger to submission, that delicious journey that does the trick for me very well indeed. By the time she'd finished with me I'd pretty much stopped swearing and saying 'no'. I wanted her hands all over me, and anyone else who wanted to touch me too, well that would have been welcome. I was all floppy and pliant by that stage.

My next outing will be Sweet Torments on saturday, and I can't wait. I think I'm ready to try something REALLY naughty...