Last night, for the first time in a really long time (even longer than the last time I contributed to this blog!), Marlowe and I went to a fet club. We used to enjoy clubbing, travelling to various different clubs around the country on a fairly regular basis. For us it was always a prompt to play - an excuse to dress up and a reminder that there was more to life than work. However, with having less local opportunities to club and having more friends to play with, we have played in other ways much more of late.
Last night was the opening night of a local club run by two really lovely people who we have known for a while. We went along with two good friends to have a look at the place and see what the night was like. The club itself had a good vibe with a nice layout and equipment and lovely friendly people. Most importantly to us, there was lots and lots of play space and a friendly audience to satisfy my inner exhibitionist.
Marlowe was in a deeply sensuous mood and started playing with a mixture of gentle hand spanks and flogging over the skirt. Alternating this with strokes and teasing took me to a floaty head space early on and I found myself disappearing into myself, unaware of the crowd. He very quickly moved into using a ruler (ann summers came up trumps with a surprisingly effective and cheap wooden ruler) and a paddle as warm up tools and soon my poor bottom was pink and warm all over. Although we hadn't pre discussed any kind of roles or head space, I very quickly slipped into a submissive and obedient head space, instantly obeying and calling him sir. The first time you use the term sir to marlowe, it brings out his inner dom and he becomes increasingly demanding and stern. He pulled me up from the horse by the root of my hair and instructed me to stand by the radiator and watch the other scenes going on, whispering in my ear and stroking my reddened arse as we waited.
Marlowe borrowed a cane from our friend and was flexing it to find how it handled. The nervousness cut through the slightly floaty and obedient head space and I couldn't stop myself from nervouslly giggling. Before I was even really aware, he pulled me up by the root of my hair and bent me over the horse, giving me six firm strokes with the cane to teach me respect.
After a break for a drink, I was returned to the horse for a proper caning (apparently these six didn't count) and made to count out the next two dozen. As he is a kind soul, Marlowe invited two of our friends to hold my hands and comfort me as he caned me firmly. To be honest, this was of little comfort and I found my comfort deep within myself as each stroke laid a line of fire across me. After a dozen strokes, I began to float higher and higher and by two dozen my legs were about to give in. I think Marlowe had intended to continue but realised I was probably going to fall over if he did so I escaped, floating high on endorphins and adrenalin.
I've often felt that straight sensation play and play in clubs gets a bad press - that people talk of not being able to get into a head space and not being able to play as deeply. Nights like last night remind me that with the right atmosphere, the right audience and the right top (I'm lucky, I admit), I can sink into myself in a way that is intensified by people and by the fact that there is only pain - no role to hide behind.
I think we'll go back next month.
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