Warning: This post contains sexual content.
A friend invites me to an S&M Party.
I’m not into S&M but agree to go.
We stand on a dark ally in front of a shiny black
door bathed in the golden light of a Victorian street
A plaque on the door reads, if you didn’t call don’t knock.
The setting is so theatrically dark and mysterious I have to laugh
Mark knocks twice, then three more times: the door swings open,
and we enter a cavernous dungeon.
It’s a party of mostly middle-aged men and women.
Some of the women wear elegant nipple clamps or strap on dildos.
I follow the sound of a pop and find another huge room.
A man dressed in leather chaps teases the nipples of a woman,
blindfolded and lashed to a cross.
Next to them two nude women: one bent over a massage table, the
other holds a paddle.
“Do you like it?”
“Do you want more?”
Next to them a woman in nipple revealing latex and a
guy with a throbbing erection; he’s strapped to a gurney.
“Mommy loves Boy!”
“But Boy is bad!”
“Thank you, Mommy!”
I part the sheer curtains that divide the playrooms from a patio.
On the patio a dozen leather clad men and women sit around a
lawn table passing a fat joint.
A nude man on leash and collar places his hands on his hips
“You tops,” he says, “You have to wear so many clothes!”
I get the joint, and take a deep hit.
Back in the playroom the woman on the cross squirms with pleasure
while Mommy tickles Boy’s balls.
(c) Rob Goldstein 1987-2018