Kinky gathering

Yesterday I was at another kinky social play gathering … thingy. I still don’t know exactly what to call it, so from here on I will simply call it a kinky gathering. I know, that could also be an umbrella term for play parties, munches and this sort of gathering, but it isn’t, not here. Okay, that’s much ado about nothing. Onwards …

I was at a kinky gathering, again. I was nervous as hell beforehand, again, and it was great fun and not really anything to be nervous about, again. I talked to people, a few I had talked to before and a few I hadn’t, not that I can remember anyway. With my bad memory nothing is certain, but I like to believe that I would at least remember that I had talked to them, however vague the memory, if I have had a longer conversation with them. No way to be sure, though. The people were nice, fun and more than willing to talk to a newbie. One of those I talked most with was another newbie. She recognized the feeling of nervousness, but agreed that there wasn’t anything, or anyone, to be nervous about.

We got to watch as session together with a couple of others. That was interesting; fun too. I liked the fact that there was a connection between the two players. Not that they are lovers or anything, I don’t think they knew each other very much at all, but I got the feeling that she cared about him and what she did to him, and he relished it. It was real people enjoying something real together. I can very much respect that.

Afterwards I realized two things, or one and a half, maybe. One, I don’t get rope. I don’t get why people make a fuss about rope and binding each other up this way and that with lots and lots of rope. Oh, bondage I get, absolutely. To bind someone so they can’t move, can’t get away and feel trapped – I get that. It’s the intricate rope bindings that I don’t get, the shibari and the like. It looks pretty and can be done in so many different ways, sure, but still … I guess it’s simply not for me.

The other thing was that the definition of sadist is one that feels more and more accurate for me. The session I saw felt so right that I didn’t even think about the fact that he got a beating before afterwards. That’s when the little voice showed up and tried to give me a bad conscience for watching that session. But there was no harm in the session, or in watching it. We got invited, we kept our distance and didn’t talk or disturb. No harm, no foul. Hurt, yes. Fun, yes. Excitement, yes. But no harm.

I don’t know if I am a sadistic top or a dominant. Maybe both at different times or with different people. Maybe neither. I’m pretty sure that I’m not a sadistic bottom. Or, to be more accurate, if I ever play bottom, I doubt it will be the sadistic kind. Oh, but here I go again, me and my labels.

Before I left, one of the guys I had been talking to – a very nice sadist – said that if I wondered about something or needed to brainstorm about an idea or something like that, I was welcome to talk to him, or send him a message. He pointed out that he didn’t consider himself an expert in anything, but just talking with someone can help figure things out, sometimes. I appreciated the offer. It’s good to know that I have someone to talk to, if/when the day comes that I need another perceptive or someone to brainstorm with about good ways to do evil things.

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