At midnight, the dungeon opens, and everyone starts slowly descending the stairs. The tolerable electronic music from the dance floor above doesn’t fade. This helps us delude ourselves into thinking it’ll muffle any sounds a paddle, hand, or mouth can make.
The spanking bench is positioned in the middle of the room. The dom working a flogger on a man in his mid-40s is a young girl with pale skin and auburn princess curls, a welcome departure from the usual tattoos and leather-bound dress of the other femdoms tonight. The line behind her is already two men deep. Everyone is circled around, mouths salivating, everyone except the girl beside me who introduces herself as asexual. She just loves to watch. She sees the bench calling to me like the stage calling for those with the right amount of courage and lack of self-preservation.
You should do it. She opens the left side of her trench coat and reveals a store of small red and black leashes. A young man with a red one walks by. I barely see the man who’s pulling him, before the bottom shoos the man away so he can greet his friend. The girl makes him promise to meet her back upstairs in about 20 minutes. The bottom says, Maybe closer to 30? She agrees then turns to tell me, I put one on him. I think you guys would love it.
She turns to my dom, who’s my boyfriend irl, but I want more than that here. BDSM is not always a pretense for sex. It is a pretense for power exchange. However, as a submissive through and through, for me, it is a part of sex. I love topping from the bottom, getting you to tell me how smart I am while we both know you’re the smarter one.
I can tell boyfriend doesn’t like my moaning, like when it’s just me and him but now it’s in front of everyone, doesn’t like the way my pain commands everyone in the room and how this is a pleasure he’s never been able to give me alone. He pulls at my leash as the femdom spanks me, but the way I’m positioned, her face is all I see. We smile at each other. She knows who’s in charge.