DeaconX's Fetish Night
“Portland's own monthly Fetish Dance and Play Party”
It is all a jumble of pictures in my head, underscored with a deafening driving beat of music, music so loud you can feel it deep in your belly. But the memory of the music fades to a hum and the images remain.
Men swinging whips, nude female bodies writhing and twisting as they absorb the pain, faces, dozens and dozens of faces watching. Men, asses bare, bent over a spanking bench being paddled by statuesque women. People dancing, talking, staring at one another in open lascivious appreciation. (After all, it is a kinky dress up party after all.) Tattoos and corsets, kilts and leather and chains, smiles and eyes. Young and old, smooth and hairy, tall and short, thick and thin... able bodied and disabled. (I actually bumped into a white cane of a blind guy... a blind guy that asked me the way to the dungeon. But later I watched him, watched him watching me and our eyes met and he greeted me... "Hows it going?" Seriously wonder how blind he really was. But he seemed to be having a great time bumping into people.)
Master looked good in his new black clothes. The leather vest was the perfect touch. My short black skirt and long lacy legs were only remarkable on the street as we walked to the venue. I got some serious looks from a couple of guys in a car. I could see them talking to each other about me. Inside, we were as Master so astutely pointed out on the way there, vanilla wrapped in black. We looked pretty normal... even on the conservative side of kinky.
But I could tell I looked good and got my fair share of looks, just as I was giving my fair share of looks back. The whole room was crammed, crowded and stuffed with exotic amazing people.
We stood and watched a couple, she must have been over sixty and he looked about seventy five. She was slender, even dainty, with an awesome body and beautiful skin. (I wish I looked that good now.) He looked like something from a Tim Burton animation, ancient, bent, and just a little scary. We watched them as he positioned her against a wrack, put a leather hood over her face and did all kinds of things to her, snapped her with rubber bands, ran wartenburg wheel over her skin, put rubber bands on her nipples, paddled, caned, flogged and single tailed her. They were close, only about eight feet away across the row of dividing tables. It was riveting. And behind them were at least four other couples doing equally fascinating things.
I remember having Master take my hair into his fist and leaning down and sinking his teeth into my neck. And then later, using me like an ice breaker, his fist in my hair and fingers slipped through the back of my collar, pulling it tight enough to feel the first hints of strangulation and steering me around the room, shoving me through the press of bodies toward the back door and the small sanctuary from the soul and ear shattering music. But it was cold out there and I would stand next to him my arms wrapped around myself shivering and soon we would return, to look and be looked at.
We only stayed a couple of hours. It was all Master could stand. But it was our first public play party, first time watching other people doing kinky things.
I would love to go again... but that is going to up to Master. We will see. If we do go back, next time I will put some earplugs into my bag. Maybe we will be able to stay a little longer.
