I’m in a dark hotel ballroom that has been converted into a temporary kink dungeon. Red and blue shadows stretch across the dimly lit space, the bass of hard techno music rattles the chandeliers. I’m doubled over a spanking bench, my cuffed hands resting behind me on my lower back. My head has been pushed over the edge of the bench so that my gaze is forced downward. My eyes trace the swirled pattern in the hotel carpet as I listen for Daddy’s footsteps. I can’t see her but I know she is behind me.
We have another person in this scene, a service sub whose role is to serve as a footstool, toy rack, and any other inanimate prop Daddy might need as she beats the brat out of me. I can hear Daddy talking to the sub, telling her to move into a new position. To our left I make out the sounds of a cat (or a sub doing cat play, anyways) meowing in a scene next to us. On our other side, a whip is cracking through the air. All around us are dozens of other scenes playing out, the sounds and energy of each swirling together in a chaotic amalgam of delicious hedonism.
Daddy finishes with the service sub and walks over to me. She grabs me by the hair, thrusting my head up and back. She leans in with her lips close to my ear and murmurs, “Look up at your audience, Princess.” I open my eyes, noticing for the first time the crowd of people who have gathered to watch our scene. Daddy slips two fingers into my mouth, pulling on my cheek to force my mouth open and rotating my head from side to side. “Smile to your audience, Princess,” she says into my ear. My face hurts from the force of her hand, my lips are stretched and I’m starting to drool. I wince as I arrange my face into a smile around Daddy’s fingers. The voyeurs are smiling back at me. Daddy lets out a sadistic cackle and kisses my cheek, “Good girl.”
I wouldn’t consider myself a shy or private person. I’ll talk about just about anything with anyone, be it an old friend or a perfect stranger. Sex, death, money – no topic is too touchy for me. I hardly bat an eye at posting racy pictures of myself on Instagram for the all world to see. I flirt with literally every single butch I meet, and even the occasional hard femme that strikes my fancy. Clearly, shyness and privacy aren’t really my thing. Despite this, my kinks have stayed behind closed doors.
I lived almost four years on the left side of the slash without going to a single kink conference, festival, or play party. Up until very recently, I never mentioned my kinks on social media. Hell, I barely ever mentioned it to my closest friends in person. When I met Butch Daddy her kinks were almost as private as mine. Sure, she called herself Daddy on social media and occasionally posted a picture of herself in a leather cap, but for the most part her kinks were left up to the imagination. I can’t speak for Daddy, but for me I suppose it felt too risky to let my kink flag fly. It was one thing to be visibly and proudly gay, but quite another to be visibly gay and into some fucked up sadomasochistic shit.
The D/s relationship between me and Daddy has served as a kicking off point for both of us to go public with our kinks. Being Daddy’s princess makes me feel so enveloped in safety and protection, I find myself much more willing to put myself in risky or vulnerable situations now than I ever would have in the past. Fortified by the support of my Daddy, I finally felt ready to go public. Before our relationship, Daddy had wanted to start playing publicly for some time but was waiting for the right dynamic through which to do it. Once we had solidified our Daddy/brat rhythm, she was ready to go public as well.
We went to our first play party together a few weeks ago at a conference in Vancouver, BC. I was a little nervous going into it. I was concerned that my dynamic with Daddy would be disrupted by onlookers, or that the euphoria of sub space would be tampered by the energy of scenes going on around us. I was trepidatious about being in the same room as a cis penis for the first time since coming out six years ago. Was I going to be intimidated by the other big scary leather daddies in the room that weren’t mine? Would the screams of other subs distract me from my own?
As it turns out, I needn’t have been concerned. My dynamic with Daddy wasn’t disrupted by the presence of voyeurs – quite the opposite, in fact, it was amplified. Sub space lifted me to float among the ballroom light fixtures and I saw myself from below, bliss hitting me in waves each time I felt the impact of Daddy’s implements. We had more room to move around than we ever have in the comfort of our bedroom. Daddy could pick me up, throw me on the ground, swing her flog wherever she pleased, pace circles around me and the service sub, and even look up occasionally to play to her audience. The penises were there, I saw them, but they didn’t really bother me. I guess in the space of kink, where we all were letting our freak flags fly, cis men didn’t feel as imposing as they usually do. The leather daddies in the room didn’t scare me at all. They all looked at me, trailing behind Daddy by leash, with the loving respect of a Dom appreciating another Dom’s sub. The screams of the other subs did not distract me, they harmonized in my ears like the cinematic swells of an orchestra. I was in sadomasochistic heaven.
My sub drop was rough, and so was Daddy’s top drop. Usually, our scenes are followed by passionate sex and a long round of naked cuddling. We like to change the music, dim the lights, and cover ourselves in fuzzy blankets. At the play party, this type of aftercare was not an option. After the scene, the three of us wandered deliriously to an open mattress in the aftercare room and attempted to regain our strength. But the music was so loud and the screams were still ringing out from the next room. We didn’t want to have sex in that setting and our cuddling felt disjointed. It was a learning experience – now we know that for conference play parties we need to rent a room in the hotel in order to practice ideal aftercare.
Despite the suboptimal aftercare situation, the night was a glittering success. I loved every minute of that play party and I’m already combing the local kink event pages for the next party to attend. Now that I’ve gone public, there’s no putting my kinky gay ass back in the closet. It was so liberating to show my kink in front of others, and even more so to see others showing their kinks in front of me. In the world of private kink, things can get fairly insular and it can be difficult to tap into external resources and affirmation. Playing publicly has opened a door for me to a community that I had no idea existed as vibrantly and enthusiastically as it does. For me, public play is validation, representation, and education all rolled into one glorious package. I love public play because it allows me to feel seen in my kink and, as it turns out, I’m a huge exhibitionist. Who knew?
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Disclaimer! Articles on this blog are written from a place of exploration, not expertise. I do not speak with absolute authority on kink. I hope the articles will serve as conduits through which the queer kink community will continue to become more visible, knowledgable, and accessible. These are my personal experiences and/or researched topics.
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