If I can’t arrive fashionably late to a kink event, chances are I probably won’t attend.
I dress to be seen.
That takes time. There’s always the ritual of choosing the right outfit (and trying each on), if I’m going with Femdom lite or Femdom dark make-up, tights, fishnets, or bare legs, of course shoes and how high I want to appear to be towering over others, and the hair–this is the key that brings my look together. Then I dress my puppy, which has become a fun afterthought that hinges on which panties he’ll wear. Because, if we’re being honest, there’s a 99% chance he’s going to end up naked.
So when I planned on attending our first kinky London outing as a couple, arriving nearly two hours late was always part of the plan. We walked in and quickly were checked into what appeared to be a bar in its everyday use. Small pockets of latex clad people were scattered about mingling, chatting, and looking sexy, it was a good turnout of about 60-75 people. The socialization was definitely at a level 10 that night and once we found out the basement dungeon didn’t open for another 90 minutes I got a little antsy.
“Maybe we should talk to some people,” I casually said to my puppy.
“Oh Mistress, you know I’m bad with talking to strangers, I’ll let you do the introductions,” he shyly whispered back.
I knew he was right. I talked to strangers everywhere all the time and it was part of what I did for work so I was use to it. I sent him to the bar to get a drink and proceeded to find some nearby kinksters to get to know but couldn’t shake the feeling I’d noticed all night, I was being watched. Before we could get too in depth in conversation it was announced that the play area was open and the crowd swiftly shifted downstairs. As we made our way down, I got excited. It had been months since puppy and I played together in a dungeon and I was looking forward to our planned scene. However, as we stepped into the open area there was a clearly noticeable difference down here. Gone was the chatting and smiling faces and in had come the silence and widened eyes. There were only two pairs of people just getting started and everyone else in the space was plastered to the wall.
I grabbed puppy’s leash and drug him behind me. “Don’t worry about what anyone else is doing, you will be focusing on me tonight,” I said in one breath.
We hustled to a smaller back room where I ordered him to lay across a leather plushy spanking bench. I do what I always did at a club for an added mind-fuck: I took each one of the toys I was prepared to use and spread them out within his view. I didn’t tie him down as I hadn’t brought any rope (don’t enjoy explaining that to TSA on oversea travels!) and I hadn’t given him any direct instructions except to simply lie down.
I rubbed his back and lightly scratched with my freshly done claw like nails.
“You remember how many spankings you owe Mistress?” I pressed his head down into the leather and cooed in his ear above the music.
“Yes Mistress, 1500 Mistress,” he said defeated.
I cackled in delight. I had given him thousands of spankings before so I knew I was in for a workout.
“What are these particular spankings for?”
“For leaving Mistress and coming back to London,” he replied without hesitation.
He was exactly right. That had been the guise I put this torturous activity under.
“And what is Mistress’s goal?” I asked waiting for his four word answer.
He paused and closed his eyes before saying, “To make me cry.”
This was music to my ears as I took the thick leather strap I had been dying to use on him in my hand.
“Shall we begin?” I asked rhetorically not waiting for an answer.
For the next forty minutes or so I proceeded to spank puppy using the leather strap, a wooden paddle, a miniature rug beater, a silicone ball slapper, a flogger and, of course, my hand. He squirmed and squealed at times which only annoyed me to the point of sitting on him and holding him down or just matching his wild flailing with even more wild intensity of the instrument I was holding.
As we neared the end of our spanking scene, tears filling his eyes, I told him to get ready for the next part, pegging. This would be our first public pegging scene and I was worried he’d be too nervous but also excited to humiliate him. By now, it was getting overwhelmingly crowded in our little area as we were one of the few people playing and doing so hard. I readied my strap-on and attempted to fuck my puppy on the wrought iron bed. This didn’t go on for long as he was sore from a previous fucking the night before so I moved onto Queening him. I put my back to the room and tried to tune the room out. I rode his face slowly and methodically but not without noticing a gentleman squeeze his way into the red-lit room and slide over until he was leaned against a nearby wall facing me. He stood very close, so close I could’ve slapped him. He was very much interested in our scene and at one even offered to hold my submissive’s legs for me.
I silently shook my head as a no thanks and flashed a fake but agitated smile. It was starting to feel smaller and smaller by the minute in the room and as I lifted off my breathless bottom all I said was, “Clean-up now.”
He did as he was told and the nearby man attempted to speak to me as I click-clacked on my heels away not wanting to interact. Within minutes I could see puppy’s relived face as he found me in the next larger, main room—still as quiet as a church service on a Sunday, still with the voyeurs splayed on the wall not actively playing.
“I’m ready to go Mistress,” he squeaked out.
I couldn’t argue with him as I knew if I was feeling the fishbowl effect myself, he was feeling it times ten.
We left the club in a hurry after having a few people approach us awkwardly we immediately said once outside together, “Well that was weird!”
Together we’ve put on classes, demos, podcasts, Q&As and not once had we both felt so…watched. It was interesting to be in a club and to very obviously be the main attraction without expecting to be the main attraction and then I remembered…
I had dressed to be seen.