Want to read more? Join my Patreon community

Subversion

Posted at 18:50 on 7 Apr 2009 by Pandora / Blake

Tags: dominance and submission, Jimmy Holloway, kink, making a scene, Photos, Thomas Cameron

We went to Subversion with my beautiful friend Jimmy, who looked deliciously debonair in silver-framed sunglasses and a matching corset.¹ We were there early, despite a leisurely getting-ready that involved me spending an hour on totally experimental facepaint.

I've only ever done cat-face once before (my ex-girlfriend and I made masks based on Mungojerry and Rumpelteazer when I was 14) and it clashed horrendously with the cutesy, 'Gothic Lolita' clip-on kitty ears and joke-shop tail, but I got lots of compliments despite the weird fusion, so I think I pulled it off.



Of course, I realised before we actually got to the club that Puss in Boots was the companion of Dick Whittington, local North London hero, not Dick Turpin, infamous highwayman. D'oh! So, er, not only was I inhabiting a weird-ass fusion of Rumpelteazer and Hello Kitty, but also I was sidekick to the wrong guy. Like some strange crossover fairytale fanfiction.²

It was okay in the end, though. No-one noticed, not least because mostly people assumed Tom was a pirate. (This happens to him quite a lot.)


In which I look manically evil, and Tom looks somewhat tired. Oh well, at least my red kitty ears match his bandanna.

My highwaymen friend and I spent a while exploring and getting the feel of the place. The venue, Hub, is the Metropolitan University Student Union, or at least one of them. When it was empty at the start of the night, the atmosphere was slightly jarring. Dancefloor and cloakroom downstairs, dungeon with bar area/sofas upstairs, and another dungeon on the floor above that, lined with diner-style booths. The posters on the wall are all vanilla and studenty, and not much effort had been made with decoration - it was basically a student union full of fetish furniture and fetishists.

But oh, what furniture! One glance was enough to convince you that this was a player's club, in a way that no other London club I've been to really is. As if two floors of playspace wasn't enough, there was a seriously thoughtful (and expensive) range of furniture, including at least three suspension cages, a gallows, two medical chairs, numerous crosses and spanking benches and trestles ... and no-one was sitting on any of it, and there was space for scenes to take place next to each other, and honestly, it was like being a six-year-old in a sweet shop. The range of choice was overwhelming.

It was mostly empty when we got there, and there were only a couple of people we knew, so we mostly interacted with each other. We started playing in the top dungeon. I was bent over the spanking bench in the corner, which held my thighs apart like the ones in these photos, and we'd barely begun when several camera flashes, seen out of the corner of my eye, made me jump. I'm used to a strict no-cameras rule in dungeons, and the idea that people might be photographing me made me horribly self-conscious. Of course, I'm used to being photographed, but only when I'm working, and I wasn't meant to be working, I was meant to be being Tom's sub, and suddenly I couldn't relax and argh.

He stopped shortly after that, and cuddled me while I sobbed into his shoulder, smearing my facepaint everywhere. Of course I wasn't hurt badly - it was just the usual shock of having a scene end unexpectedly, of feeling like the worst sub in the world, despite his reassurances.

Eventually, though, I felt better, and we tried again. We waited for a different spanking bench to become free, Tom lurking by the wall of the playroom and me kneeling at his feet. The couple using the bench were twice our age, faces lined with laughter and sorrow, and every inch of their bodies alight with love. Her ample behind was well marked, and we watched as he gently brought her back up out of what must have been an incredibly intense scene. She was floating, semi-conscious, leaning on him for support. We tried our best not to intrude, or make them feel rushed. It was beautiful to watch their tenderness with each other. Tom and I exchanged a glance, wordlessly, that meant I hope that's us in thirty years' time.

Despite our intimacy, the second scene was difficult. Tom was patient with me, but my pain threshold had plummeted and the tiniest smack made me jump. I just couldn't seem to relax. Eventually he gave me eighteen with my medium tawse, which is normally a warm-up implement, and I jolted and wept my way through them as if they were the most vicious of canestrokes. Afterwards I was rewarded with compliments and cuddles, but I felt silly for being such a wuss.

But I'd got through it, and that helped center me. I was up for playing again later in the evening, but mostly we were aware, now that the place was filling up, of how few people we knew. Subversion lacked the showiness of many London clubs, but it made up for it in sociability. Everyone, it seemed, knew everyone, and the atmosphere was warm and friendly.

Still, we were nervous of starting up a conversation with strangers, but Tom soon took the plunge with a good-looking couple we'd admired earlier in the evening: a wiry, sharp-eyed man and his red-haired, beautifully tight-corseted sub.

We clicked; we flirted. They were from Dublin, and kinksters to the core. We were soon swapping stories and talking about some surprisingly intimate topics. When Tom asked me surreptitiously if I'd be interested in a double scene, I nodded at him, eyes alight with anticipation.

The Irish couple said thankyou, but no; on any other night they would, but tonight they had stuff going on, and weren't really in the right headspace to play. Of course, we said, not a problem, and carried on the conversation, enjoying getting to know each other anyway.

After a while, however, Tom (he's a sneaky bastard when he wants to be) drew me to my feet and rested my hands on the outside of the cage we were seated next to. I arched my back as he started to crop me. Everything felt right; the wine and the conversation had relaxed and stimulated me, and I was enjoying being watched and showing off to the crowd that started to gather. No problems with my pain tolerance now.

Afterwards our new friends were very complimentary, and I knelt by Tom's feet, nuzzling his thigh, enjoying the high of my recent whipping. After a little while I went to the bar to fetch people's drinks, and when I came back Tom had that look in his eye, the one that means, I've got plans for you, wench.

I barely had time to hand him his drink before I was over his left knee, facing into the corner of the group seating. I don't remember what was said but soon two hands were spanking me - Tom and S, the Irish Dom. I gasped and wriggled enough to show my appreciation, but not enough to put them off - I was well warmed up now, and S was being understandably careful with a new sub. Soon enough, however, S had got some toys out, and I was treated to a very fast, light whipping with a hand-tipped riding crop (I had no idea what it was at the time) and various other crops and paddles, often two at once. None of it was particularly severe, but it was rapid and tingly and delicious, and sharp enough to keep my interest.

When I felt soft, small hands start to tentatively stroke my thighs and flanks and the tips of my breasts, I thought I might melt.

I don't know how long I stayed there, being spanked by the two men and stroked by P, the red-haired sub. I know that when P started kissing me the sensation was so overwhelming I couldn't even feel the strokes landing on my bottom any more, although they were hard, and I had welts the next day. I know that watching Tom kiss P, slowly and deliberately, was deliciously hot. And although I'm not usually sexually interested in men who aren't my Doms (two is enough for me), being kissed by S was extremely pleasant. He held me lightly in his narrow hands, and his body rang with restrained power.

I submitted to being tied into a rope harness by him. I felt light-headed with pain and pleasure and desire. He worked quickly and skilfully, and with my arms pinioned behind my back and my breasts peaked and swollen I felt like I was floating. The three of them played with me a while, but my attention was rapidly closing in on Tom. Our new friends were delightful, but what my Dom and I wanted and needed was to go home and fuck each other senseless. So we did.

Happy birthday, Sir. It was my pleasure to serve you this weekend, and I hope to many more times in the future. And I think we'll definitely be going back to Subversion again.

1. Jimmy continues to be the only boi in my life I have any interest in spanking, and I still can't work out how much of the desire arises from my own kink and how much arises from me empathising with his need to be spanked. I considered suggesting a three-way scene to Tom on Saturday, but we were out to celebrate Tom's birthday, and I felt that as his sub it behoved me to put him first, just for tonight. (Later, when I mentioned the idea to Tom, he said he'd had pretty much exactly the same sequence of thoughts. Next time, then.)

2. I told this story to D. last night, and he grinned at me. "If anyone asked," he said, "you should have told him that you had two Dicks, and the other one was at home."

Comments

Add your comment:

Post as:


(or log in to post with your own username)

(optional)

(optional)

Want to read more? Join my Patreon community
Become a Patron!

Browse archive

2009

Find Pandora online

Feminist porn

Spanking porn

Spanking blogs

Sex and Politics blogs

Toplists & directories