We arrived at the club, music thumping through the walls and stripped out of our outer-wear in the entrance. Half naked people wandered in and out of the club. I felt a few twinges as I got almost entirely naked, handing my clothes over, but I was committed to seeing where this evening would take me. Tight boxers, suspenders, and slippers. Not much left to the imagination.
We got stamped and walked through the door. As I looked around the darkened room my pervading thought was: “Wow, I might be the most scantily clad guy here.” Almost all the other guys were wearing black street clothes. Why hadn’t anyone told me a black t-shirt and black jeans would have been “fetish” enough to get in the door? Oh well, it was too late to change at that point and once the clothes were off the cat was out of the bag, so to speak. (As the evening progressed I did see a few more guys wearing as little as I was. We were in the minority though.)
The women were in a variety of outfits, everything from corsets and panties to see-through gowns or leather. It was Boxing day too, so quite a few of the women were in sexy holiday outfits. Ho ho ho. The variety was pretty amazing compared to the guys who were generally just dressed in all black.
The club wasn’t very large. The walls and ceilings were black but covered in interesting, cartoonish murals. The club was divided into two different areas, the main one had a stage, a dancing area, and pool tables. The second area was more of a club, with flashing lights and a larger dancing area. Both rooms were packed, people were everywhere in almost every kind of outfit you could imagine.
Vivian and a few rope friends had organized the raffle to benefit cancer research. We’d picked up the two prizes earlier in the day, the large photo and the breast painting, but needed to sell the tickets. We group split into teams to cover the club. I was basically Vivian’s assistant, I carried around the framed photo to show off the prize while Vivian played saleswoman. Together we waded into the crowds.
Within the first five minutes a buxom blond woman by the stage started yelling at me. She was dressed in a corset (almost spilling out of it, actually) with a camera, shouting and gesturing at me. The music was really loud though, I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Head cocked to the side, I had a long “WTF is going on?” moment. The woman kept yelling and gesturing, I kept giving her a confused look. Vivian, who had been selling tickets to another couple, noticed and pushed me toward the stage.
I walked over to the woman, still carrying the large photo we were raffling. She handed me a small bag from a pile on the stage and started taking my picture. I still had no clue what was going on. I’m standing there in boxers with suspenders, holding a large picture of mostly naked women, getting my photo taken at a fetish club. Smile, she gestured. I tried to smile. A few photos later Vivian made her way over. We waved at the woman who was moving on to her next victim and walked away.
I asked Vivian what the hell had just happened.
“You won a prize,” she yelled over the music. “I told you that you’d look good in that outfit.”
I looked in the bag. Inside was a ball cap with the logo of a fetish company, a ball gag, and a strange-looking jock strap.
(Side note: the club posts photos from their events on their Facebook page. Seriously. Before posting this I checked, they put up pics from that night but I didn’t see any of me. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed, those would have been a fun memento but blackmail material if anyone I knew stumbled on them.)
We spent the next few hours working the room, selling raffle tickets. Vivian’s fund raising was going well.
There were a few strange moments.
We sold tickets to a couple of mostly nude older women. A little later I passed one of them as she walked to the bar. She smiled and winked at me. She was attractive but easily old enough to be my mother.
A little while later I saw a woman in a corset that stopped just below her breasts, nothing on above. That wouldn’t have been noteworthy except the club was packed and her naked breasts rubbed all over my arm as we passed. It was cool in the room, her nipples were hard, I could feel every millimeter against my arm. That was a little weird.
This particular fetish club hosts a variety of shows. That night the first show was ropes. Vivian and I managed to find a vantage point in the crowded room and watched it together. The model was dressed as a ballerina, the rigger suspended her then shifted her through various ballet positions like a marionette.
We sold more tickets between shows. The second of the night was a naughty Rudolph show, a cute young woman in red panties and pasties with a big red nose and a Santa hat. She did almost a cheerleader routine with hula hoops and jumping around the stage.
After the second show was the raffle. Everybody got out their tickets and the two prizes were awarded, the photo and the breast painting. That was a big relief, quite a bit of money had been raised and our main mission from the evening was successfully completed.
Vivian and F were supposed to be on a “date” but F had been hanging out by herself for most of the night while we were selling tickets. Once the raffle was over it was F’s turn to get some attention.
Vivian had brought her rope.
As mentioned in the previous post, F is a masochist. Vivian had dated D for a while, learned a lot of “mean” rope techniques from him, so she was uniquely qualified to tie his current girlfriend, F. The stage was occupied by another couple so Vivian pushed together two large, flat foot rests in the lounge area. Together they gave the two women enough space off the floor to comfortably work.
Had I not known Vivian or F, watching them would have bothered me. Vivian tied F in painful, awkward positions, then twisted the ropes to make them dig in deeper. Then Vivian would change it up, moving to a different position, equally uncomfortable, and keep tying. Limbs went in awkward directions, the rope dug inches into her skin. The sounds that F made were so pain filled and primal that they made my skin crawl at times. Had I not known the two I couldn’t have watched. But I did know them, I’d even seen F get tied in a similar way by her boyfriend earlier that day. I knew that F was getting exactly what she wanted from Vivian. It wasn’t torture, it was a almost a gift that Vivian was giving her. Still, it wasn’t always easy to watch and quite a few onlookers left during the mini-performance.
Afterwards they hugged and cuddled. Then we all went out for burgers.
Through out the evening I could see Vivian getting worn out. She’d been hustling all day, tying me up, getting everything together for the raffle, selling tickets, and then when the evening started to quiet down she needed to give F some time.
I kept thinking, after all of this she needs a break. She needs to get tied herself.
Stay tuned for pt 3.