Nonfiction

My Messy Bedroom

31 October 2012

Recently I’ve been trying to sort out the kinks in my sex life. Not the whole ‘non-monogomous’ thing with Mega Babe – that’s going about as smooth as her sweet ass. But the more specific kinks in my messy bedroom; for instance how hard do I want to be spanked and are cable ties safe to be tied up with? Quick answer to the last question–absolutely not E.L. James!

My interest in fetish culture and kinky sex is long held. When I first started having sexual relations in high school I remember begging to be consensually blindfolded and tied up. Over the next couple of years with different partners I dabbled in a variety of fetishes with a side of vanilla, but a naughty little part of me knew there must be more–but where to find it?

Then one fateful day I met Jemima. A deceivingly innocent looking lady with Disney princess hair. Our friendship blossomed in autumn as we roamed around Melbourne holding tea parties, baking brownies, spending afternoons in the sun throwing our hair about until we got whiplash. Until one day our activities went from Disney to Hentai.

Jemima mentioned that she had been spending some time on a website called FetLife–an adult social networking site much like Facebook, bar the censorship and dodgy privacy settings. Perusing the website I found myself moving from amused to aroused. Yes, I thought, I want to do that! With my kinky kindred by my side the world was starting to look a lot more provocative.

My first fetish night was fabulous. Not only did I get away with only wearing lingerie in public but I made a collection of new confidants; including the deviously delicious grandmother of four Naughty C, Imi who was out to try just about everything, the ever flattering ITB, and last but definitely not least–Sir Jack Bastard.

Sir Jack introduced himself with a firm handshake, a wink and a warning: “They don’t call me Jack the Bastard for nothing!”

A legend in the scene, Sir Jack seemed to know just about everything, and everyone. On my second fetish night I watched him whip, cut and abuse a willing victim on stage for almost half an hour–eat your heart out 50 Shades. After his glorious performance Sir Jack even offered to give me a public spanking of my own. Amazingly shy for once, I said I’d get back to him.

One of the best things about the scene is the implicit respect and courtesy of fellow kinksters. The phrase ‘don’t yuck someone else’s yum’ was omnipresent as I spoke to scat artists, professional dominatrices, individuals who love water play, blood play, needlework–need I go on?

Soon Jemima and I became adequately pedantic about safety procedures. We texted before and after every meeting with our new playmates and spoke to rope and leather experts on how to safely restrain our new genital friends.

Over the past couple months I’ve entertained proposals for several foot slaves, a young French man who wants me to be his mistress, a Welsh fellow who wants some cock torture, and a sexaholic who wants me to write his life story.

But I’ve been slow to get my kit off for kink. Maybe it’s the anonymity of my fellow players that’s putting me off, or becoming a sexual novice again.

Either way, one thing is for sure. Next time I run into Sir Jack Bastard I think my behind is begging for a beating–have to begin somewhere!

 


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