Behind the Door of a BDSM club

           

Almost three weeks ago I was in LA for the RT convention, as most of you know. What you also might have guessed is I made a special fieldtrip along with three friends to a BDSM club. Yep, you read right. I went to a D/s playroom. If you want to hear it all continue to read. If you’re afraid I’ll spill some freaky stuff then definitely read on J

            First off I will admit to having a few martinis before we grabbed our cab to head out. The drive took around twenty-minutes or so before our sweet driver stopped. Since we didn’t see a sign for the club nor could we find a plaque for the address our driver hesitated to leave us on our own in North Hollywood. The ever-adventurous Desiree Holt took matters into her own capable hands and walked straight into the nearest business. It just happened to be another club that advertised in bright neon colors NUDE GIRLS LIVE GIRLS NUDE. Yep, Des walked in grabbed the bouncer by the arm and pretty much sweet-talked her way into finding out where we needed to go. Poor guy looked like he didn’t know what hit him. Most people are that way after a Des-attack.

            Turns out the club was tucked in behind this little white brick facade. You’d never find it if you didn’t know where you were going. No loud music, no shrieks, no blood flying, no sounds of whips, chains or whatever else you might be thinking. After promising our driver we knew what we were doing (LMAO) we turned to go in and found a little black gate that we unlatched and walked through.

            The first thing I saw was two smiling, perfectly normal looking people. They were very gracious, courteous and friendly. We each handed over our ids then there were some forms we had to initial and sign. Thankfully we had a lawyer in the group. I waited until she read it, nodded her head and I happily scrawled my signature along the numerous lines. Why the forms? Because the owners want to make sure people know the reality of what they’re walking into. This isn’t a yuppie bar or some goth/vamp dungeon. This place was about understanding and catering to a special need of some people. Not a bad, evil or wrong need, just different. My philosophy of life? If you’re over twenty-one, single, consenting then go for it, baby. So long as you respect your partner’s boundaries and needs it’s all good.

            So we past the gate, sign our forms, hand over our money and follow our guide into a very new world.

            The ride side of the courtyard is taken up with a long portable table. The kind people use is church or bingo halls. Plain, serviceable and easy to clean. On top of the table sits duffle bags, suitcases and leather satchels. Having my first and last intelligent thought of the night, I immediately understand (it’s later confirmed) that these bags are brought by the members. They contain whatever toys or props they intend to play with at the club. No one uses or borrows anyone else’s stuff, I think it’s considered bad form. Can’t say I blame them. I’ll keep my cooties and you keep yours…it really works for me.

            A bright cheery fire was the focal point as a group of people sat around, sipping water and chatting about the cold weather and the Lakers. Major point of interests No alcohol or liquor is sold here. Nothing to impair anyone’s judgment. However bottles of water, Diet Coke, Coke, Sprite and that type is free to anyone who wants it. I grabbed a bottle of water and wandered. Remember I lost my voice so I couldn’t talk to these people.

This was not my brightest idea and it wouldn’t be the last stupid thing I did this night.

            So I wandered around while my so-called friends deserted me. We all made a bathroom trip when we arrived then BAM it’s Allie: party of one.

 I, umm inhaled tobacco, while wandering. Listened to a few conversations and wondered why these people kept looking at me. Doing a quick body check, made sure everything was tucked out of sight, zipped up or buttoned, I couldn’t understand why these people were staring. Thought it might be my flaring tobacco so I moved to the other side of the white brick wall. Nope, all eyes followed me. Now I really started to get self-conscience. I’d showered before we came so I knew it couldn’t be that. Finally the genius that I am turned to look over my shoulder at the brick wall & low and behold there was the answer.

            Turns out they used the wall as a movie screen. My butt was placed smack in the middle of their adult content film show. When I looked up my head ended up perfectly placed beneath the actor’s ‘happy spot’. Talk about being an idiot. Needless to say I scooted away from the wall and to the safety of a nice iron table.

            Meanwhile I kept looking around thinking this is nothing like I thought it would be. Where’s the shouting, the pain, the blood, the black leather? I found out, but that’s later in the story.

            I need to backtrack here a minute. Thursday night as we all sat in the bar together and talked about coming to this club. One of our members said “You know, if anyone gets hit on or invited to play I bet it’ll be Allie.” As this person knows more than I do about the scene I merely laughed, drank and wondered if she’d share whatever drugs currently pumping through her system.

            She was RIGHT. As I sat outside by myself, after being cruelly deserted by my no-longer-good-friends, a man comes up to me. Again, perfectly normal looking, good looking even. Older than me, but still well dressed in slacks, button down shirt and leather shoes. He comments on the weather. I, having no voice or almost no voice, nod my head like an idiot and manage to whisper “Uh huh”. He tries to talk to me, poor thing, and I’m sitting there nodding because I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to be doing. Finally something he says catches my attention away from the porn flick playing to the side of me.

            “Do you play?” the man asks me.

            Several things run through my mind.

No, I don’t play an instrument. I have no musical talent, as my second grade piano teacher will attest to.

No, I’ve never gotten the hang of basketball. Too many people running after me is not my idea of a good time.

No, I suck at poker because I have no poker face.

Finally I manage to mutter, “Depends on the game.” Thinking maybe he had Battleship, a craps table or even bingo cards hiding somewhere.

My sign “I’m a moron and lick bus windows” will be arriving shortly.

This poor man just shakes his head, sends me a wink and tells me I can find him later.

Yeah, I know it’s amazing they let me out of the house at all.

When reality dawns on me I take off to the last place I saw my so-called friends before they left me. The first room you enter is called a private room. There are two entrances and one bathroom. BTW everything is lit with red or blue light bulbs, including the bathrooms. Weird I know, but I think it helps set the mood and give everything a surreal factor.

So I enter the private room, thanking every deity known to man that’s it’s empty. ‘Cause my luck…I’d walk straight into another situation and proceed to lick windows. In this room there are several tools. A large six or seven foot piece of wood drilled into the wall about six feet up with sets of rings on each side. A queen size bed is position in the center with nothing but a fitted sheet.  Across from the bed is what looks like an old fashioned holding stock. You know what I mean two large pieces of wood the top lifts up so you can put you hands in the holes then locks down. This way your body is bent over and you cannot move anything but you lower, most likely naked half.

All the while I can hear erotic music playing or at least sometimes its erotic. At other times it’s Nine Inch Nails pounding out a beat you can feel thrumming through your skin. When you try to take a deep breath you inhale the spice of incense burning. Mix that with the low mood lighting and you have a very potent combination.

This place not only is looking to seduce you body, but the rest of your senses as well in a very intense way.

Three steps leading to the big playroom are to the left of the bed and I make my way over there. I open the door, step through and stop because what I’m seeing is nothing I’ve ever experienced.

A man is strapped to a cross with his back to me, naked. While a woman lashes at him with a very scary looking whip. He cries out, but instead of moving away from her he arches back to her.

Another woman is lying face down on leather padded sawhorse, naked, getting spanked by an equally naked man with a very large paddle.

During all these observations I’m frantically looking for my ship deserting friends and not seeing a single one of them. This makes me very very edgy ‘cause remember I can’t really talk and I’ve had two very good, but potent Lemon-Drop martinis.

The music continues to pump out, loud but not so loud I can’t hear the murmur of conversation around me. I stand there, trying to look like I know what I’m doing when out of nowhere I feel a hand wrap around my arm and tug me backwards. Back into a dark corner I didn’t see and where I’m not sure I should be going.

Then…

Want to know the rest? Tune in next week, same time, same blog, same me!