Over the past year or so I have been trying . . . trying unsuccessfully for the most part . . . to compile Part Eight of my “Modesty Ablaze Diaries” for publication.
Following on from “Modesty Ablaze Unmasked”, this new edition explores my initial interest, and then enjoyment of, the fetish and dominatrix lifestyle which I’ve come to love so much.
So the current theme of “Public, Kink Play” at Kink of the Week has inspired me to re-double my efforts to complete the editing of the pages and pages of my diary notes that make up “The Journey Beyond” . . .
Although we don’t attend as many events or club-nights as we used to, for several years our visits to Torture Garden, Club Rub, etc. etc. were a regular part of our social “stepping out” . . . and the following extract from “The Journey Beyond” is from one such evening.
The music in the main chamber as we entered was blaringly loud . . . too loud for easy conversation, but I knew from our previous visits to TG that most of the crowd came not to converse, not even to dance, more to just parade. Strutting their stuff, as Hubby called it. “Let’s find the bar” I shouted in his ear, “you can buy me a drink”.
The warehouse was huge, three floors of several large rooms on each, and then a number of smaller rooms and annexes all inter-connected with corridors and treacherous narrow steps . . . at least treacherous to me in my heels as we wandered and explored!
The downstairs bar had been far too crowded, and just as noisy as the main room, but we’d been told on entry of an upstairs bar and quieter space. But finding it was proving rather difficult, especially as there were so many “distractions” along the way!
As always with TG, the array of equipment and play-areas was amazing . . . and overwhelming! Stocks, and crosses, suspension frames and spanking benches at every turn. Hubby was clearly enjoying the sights and sounds as we wandered. But I was anxious for that first calming and relaxing glass of wine, just to settle my nerves and self-consciousness that I always feel in the first hour or so.
Eventually we’d managed to find our way to the top floor . . . and a much less crowded and noisy bar area. I’d been conscious of my age as we’d wandered around downstairs, worried that my best clubbing days have long-since passed, and that I was out of place amongst all the younger and more-outlandish outfits than my own. But in this bar there seemed a more balanced, or low-key, crowd and I began to relax a little more . . . especially once Hubby passed me that first glass.
It wasn’t just a bar area though . . . at one end of the room was a cubicle-type recess with a large bed covered in black sheeting and several couples engaged in a mini orgy of writhing and swooning bodies. I was beginning to feel more relaxed minute by minute. But theirs seemed to be a closed grouping, with neither the room nor the invitation for more participation . . . other than being part of the small crowd of onlookers gathered around.
Feeling enlivened and energised from my, by now, empty glass . . . and the activity on the bed in front of us . . . I pulled Hubby away, ordered him to “top me up” and told him we should continue our explorations of the floors below.
After some further, entertaining wanderings, we ended-up back in the largest room on the middle floor. A large space housing a large cage in the middle, with various benches, stools and tables around the outer walls. As we stood looking at the rope netting hanging from one side of the cage, a thin shape emerged from the shadows and bowed in front of me. “May I offer myself for a flogging Mistress” he said, pointing to my flogger I had draped over my shoulder as we’d been walking around. Hubby told me later that this young man had followed us down from the bar upstairs, though I hadn’t noticed him then.
Feeling much more at ease now, and actually more than-a-little excited and aroused by our surroundings, I nodded that he should position himself against the netting. I teased the black and red leather strands of my flogger gently across his shoulders, letting them twist and dangle down his back . . . and then brushing them in gentle swishes back and forth across the back of his legs.
Then, warming to my task, and feeling tingles rising within, I reached forward and yanked his black shorts over his cheeks, letting them fall to his ankles . . .
As I say, I hope to have more memories from this evening, and lots more of my Femdom and Kink adventures published in “The Journey Beyond” soon.
But, in the meantime, there are lots of other interesting experiences of “Public Play” right now at the current KOTW from smacking the lips below.
Xxx- K
