Sunday, June 22, 2008

The Three Graces.

I shook the rain from my trenchcoat as I handed it to the girl. The thrum of the tunes, the cold beer bottle in my fist, the flogger and c-clamp in my back pocket, the plain strap of black leather snapped across my left wrist... all these things brought me back to the nights when I bounced the bdsm clubs of New York City. I was in the Funhaus and it was time for another Fetish Masquerade.

The play for the night would largely be confined to the back room, the rear door to which yawned open like a hellmouth, shades of red lighting beckoning the daring and the kinky from the open dance area. The music was better here than what Master Micheal would have played, this place being a danceclub first and catering to a fusion between the goth crowd and a smattering of trendy poseurs.

I was stag tonight. I don't usually enjoy going to fetish nights on my own, since it usually reminds me that single men often make up the vast majority of voyeuristic attendees. Not quite so here, however, with the house full of couples and clusters of friends. Me, I'm much more comfortable being part of a pair, or more, of players out together, especially if I'm with a hot partner. I enjoy being out and playing, doing my thing, more than just being the observer, but tonight I was determined to have some fun. I'm confident that the time will come when my hand will meet flesh under the red lights again; for now, being in the energy was satisfying enough.

The night was still young when the Sultan, a Middle Eastern fellow in elegant Bedouin regalia, began preparing one of the red leather spanking benches for a session. I'd seen him before, and knew that he'd be using that spanking bench all night. His partner was a smiling, curvy, longhaired blond in a rust-coloured PVC top with boyshorts. Blondie relaxed comfortably as she climbed on to the padded bench with a naughty grin, resting her albows on an upper tier while facing the wall. Her round ass was revealed as Sultan tugged her boyshorts down, leaving her clad in a g-string as she was displayed before the growing audience behind her.

It's a treat when a couple is comfortable enough to let the night start early. Sultan, a regular at this event, began with tender smacks and caresses. Gradually, he built up toward a firmer hand, which Blondie readily accepted with gyrating hips. She arched her back slightly, turning her pleasantly generous bum upward and parting her cheeks open ever so more as she did so. By the time Sultan was slowly using his pinwheel along her thigh, she was squirming so much that she couldn't help but reveal her plump seam and darkened anus to the bright red light above her. The poor dear.

In the main room, vintage 70s porn played on the big screen as the now full house thudded with PVC-, leather-, and lingerie-clad dancers. Couples and singles, a crossdresser or two, and bouncers occasionally made their way in and out of the back room. Some lounged on nearby overstuffed couches, others sat or stood to watch the Sultan and Blondie at play.

As I was enjoying the sight of Blondie's reddened ass, something suddenly burst into the back room and trampled under and in front of me. Scampering on the floor at high speed was a young man bearing a small collar, and following him was a bespeckled blonde with a radiant smile and a shining black PVC evening dress. Instead of being an intrusion, their energy was infectious.

"C'mere, boy!" she called out with a wide and friendly smile. Immediately the young man turned on all fours, smiled back, and scampered on hands and knees toward her and right next to me. Tossing a huge, knotted rope, he watched it soar to the other end of the room, then brought it back with it gleefully in his teeth. She laughed and scolded him gently when he refused to release his grip on the rope toy. They did this again and again and were having a great time. It was nice to be reminded that Topping doesn't always have to be ominous and fierce.

I had forgotten how fun it was to see pup play. Sultan and Blondie continued unabated, but now my area of the room was also rich with fun, plain and simple, just because these two were so clearly having it. She saw my wide smile.

"Would you like to pet him?" she asked me, beaming. "His name is Rave."

I immediately went into doggie-voice. "Hello, Raaave... aw, such a good boy, what a good boy you are, yes, yes you are," I said, scratching him behind his ears, petting and gently tapping his back. He scampered away when I stopped. Not long after, I enjoyed watching Rave, his handler, and a lithe woman who was a tender kitten, scampering with Rave and making little hissy paws. They were cute.

Others came into the rear dungeon. Soon, as Sultan and Blondie were joined by another friend, the Businessman had begun setting up the second of the three spanking benches. With him was a sexually vibrant, tall woman with dirty blonde dreadlocks and a fantastic heart-shaped ass. Like Blondie, she found herself on all fours on the second spanking bench, her exquisite bum facing the onlookers. Businessman got right to business once Dreadlocks was in place, placing his hands at either asscheek and wiggling them rapidly. Her mound and crinkled sphincter were revealed even more readily than Blondie's had been, and the kisses he gave her bum between rounds of heavy-handed swats demonstrated that he rightfully adored her delectable butt. Their scene quickly became centre-stage as his passionate smacking, teasing, caressing elicted moans and squirms from Dreadlocks. When he too produced a pinwheel, her cries echoed through the room and blended with the trancelike music.

Not long after, a third couple made use of the wooden horse at another end of the room. The tattooed brunette there stood in her leather boots and bent over as her partner squatted and delivered a more tender, loving type of spanking to her panty-clad tush. His face was within an inch or two of her small, bubbly ass, and as he went into his own headzone his mouth slacked open with quiet pleasure.

My vantage point was front row centre. To my left, Petite Brunette and her small ass received loving open-handed attention at the horse. Blondie's plump ass was as red as the lighting as Sultan casually continued with wooden rods. To my right, Dreadlocks squirmed and yelped, revealing more and more of her beautful, heartshaped ass as she was pinwheeled and spanked. I sipped my beer contentedly as, for me, these delicious women became the Three Graces, each receiving torment and pleasure on their magnificent behinds.

Later, I'd enjoy the sight of Dreadlocks relaxing languidly on one of the couches, her back to Businessman's chest as her jilled her over her g-string, her thigh receiving caresses from a striking, smirking, bald black woman. Sultan administered another spanking to another partner. Near the dance floor, Rave and Kitty Girl would be sparring in their own furry way. Another couple, Overdramatic Goth Boy and Overdramatic Goth Girl, enjoyed a dramatic spanking scene on the dance floor stage amid the shutter snappings of a woefully young paparazzi. I flirted with a bartender and delivered compliments to some of the other Tops whose playwork I had been enjoying.

A fine night out.

And yes, I did think of Shayne, and of the fun I could have shown her there were she with me. We hadn't opportunity to play nearly enough, and there's so much I hadn't had the chance to share with her there. But, checking my email once I got back to my own dungeon, a message waited from a friend who had heard I was attending the playparty. Perhaps I won't be stag next time. One never knows.




thumbs Fetish Masquerade, personal collection, Wikipedia

3 comments:

curiousgirl said...

very interesting blog...will definitely be back...

cg

naughtysecretary said...

The next time you need a companion, you let me know, Mr Rogue.

Rogue said...

Curiousgirl:

Thank you. I'll look forward to seeing you again. I'm pleased that you're enjoying. Did I help you get through your doldrums last Sunday night? *wink*


Naughty Secretary:

I see. *smirk* I'll do that. You've been warned. Hussy.