It’s not for everyone
When it comes to sex, what we consider kinky is usually
everything that happens in other people’s bedrooms.
Trying to understand another person’s fetish is as
psychologically confusing as a man attempting to
masturbate while reading a romance novel or
a woman trying to watch gang bang porn for
the passionate connection between characters.
The feeling of arousal and sexual desire is the
same for almost everyone. What changes is the
ways in which these desires express themselves
in our psyches.
Just as some women grow up unconsciously drawn
to men who remind them of their father, some
men fetishise feet because of a former classmate
who constantly played footsie under the table.
I’m in a dark room containing a large fan heater
and a lot of casual nudity. Don’t get the wrong idea.
I’ve been invited to a sex club.Performative fucking is a riddle I can’t crack.
For those who enjoy public sex in the club’s
designated areas, the gaze of others must play a part.
I just don’t know which part to play. Rampant desire?
Patriarchal disapproval? I settle on ambient appreciation.
I should chill out. The clientele, mainly in their 20s
and 30s, are pretty hot, but, even better, they’re warm.
A few take it upon themselves to show me round.
They’re gentle and genial, and open about
their preferences, be they clamps and clips,
candle wax or chastity devices.
I feel welcome, if incredibly vanilla.
Eventually, I relax a little. This is normal,
I think to myself at one point, despite the f
act that a foot away, someone is being fisted.
I don’t know how I’d feel about watching anything
more extreme – torture, say. Or breath play,
electrical play, Japanese rope bondage or figging.
This is an outre world, but a courteous one.
There are strict codes of conduct.
Consent must be explicitly confirmed before an activity.
Pushiness or disrespect would meet with ostracism and ejection.
As one female member explains: “In regular clubs,
women expect to be groped and have guys make persistent,
unwanted advances. That doesn’t happen here.”
BDSM is making moves into mainstream consciousness
and fashion, while online kink community boards
and social networks, and messenger services such as Kik,
allow parties like this to flourish.
Smaller events are also common, with a group
often booking an Airbnb together.
Many clubs allow kink play only, no sex,
and all will have their own unique atmosphere.
Specialised marketplaces are easy to find.
For the duration of my time inside, the
club feels almost utopian. This is the
dream of sex unrepressed.
Of course, utopia is not for everyone.
I often think a little repression can
be the sexiest thing between two people.
The energy of the dam under pressure finally bursting forth.
Yet, for many, there’s an aspect of kink that exists
in the performative, public celebration of fetish.
Public in the sense of a desire to find a community of
like-minded people who wear latex and leather outfits.
She is the last woman I held naked in my arms.
I do not want for another.
The ropes. The blindfold. The cuffs of rare craftsmanship and rich black leather. The antique riding crop. The multi-tailed flogger. The steel pin-wheel, The clamps. The toys of deep pleasure. The tools of sweet pain.
All lie unused, safely hidden away in their case.
Past lovers are completely forgotten. They are but shadows inhabiting the past. No one else arouses me, excites me, thrills me.
I have no hunger, no desire, no need.
No appetite, no yearning, no ache.
No thirst, no urge, no lust.
I am pure. I am celibate. I am cold.
Yet the moment I think of her, my body responds.
She makes me hard.