‘I went to a BDSM night but regretted when the leather whip was conjured up’

Kathryn (31) and Arinto (39), parents of Sam (8) and Allison (7), attended a BDSM night.

“Did you know that if you like to be tickled with a feather on your back that already falls under BDSM? Not me. So when a good friend confided to us during an evening with way too much wine that that world really is much more loving and softer than the familiar image of leather and ropes, my friend and I became curious. She invited us for an evening on location. “With a naughty twist, but no banana sex,” she promised. Banana sex turned out to be the name for rarities, home-garden-and-kitchen sex was referred to as ‘vanilla’.

naughty touch

We didn’t need anything, just watching was fine, the girlfriend assured us. More couples would be present, in total about ten men. Although the next morning I already regretted our overconfident appointment with my head pounding, Arinto and I remained intrigued. We also secretly experimented with blindfolds and scarves, I even once put clothespins on his nipples. We read extensively about the subject, got quite excited about our exciting plans and bit by bit we shopped together an exciting outfit.

The children slept with grandparents that weekend, so to gather courage Arinto and I first went out for dinner and ordered a bottle of expensive wine. I couldn’t swallow a bite, but the wine tasted fine and by ten o’clock, the start of our appointment, we were all set.

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scary

At first it seemed like a normal gathering of friends, we were dressed a bit spicy at most. I had left my dress with my jacket and was wearing a corset with fishnet stockings, Arinto was wearing a leather boxer with a tight, black shirt. We looked at each other approvingly: no one could see that we were novices, we thought.

As the evening wore on and the game got going, our friend turned out to be a genuine ‘dom’ – short for ‘dominatrix’ and a little intimidating, with a whip in her hands. Her ‘sub’ – in full submissive – was naked on her hands and knees, his collar (more valuable than a wedding ring, we were sworn) as the only piece of jewelry. He was to be punished for something we didn’t quite understand, and when the whip hit his bare bottom for the first time, I knew we had made a mistake. The scenario became more extreme by the minute. There were latex gloves and groping that I thought only happened in prison, looking for hidden illicit drugs. There was moaning and kissing and sweating and begging. It didn’t excite me in the least; I found it mostly strange, and at times even terrifying.

‘Oh dear, so late already?’

No one seemed to be bothered by our presence, everyone was completely absorbed in the scene. “There’s no way we can just get up and go, can we?” I whispered desperately to my friend. In turn, he looked – less horrified, but full of amazement – ​​at how our friend lovingly comforted her sub and addressed us with satisfaction: ‘Do you feel the love?’ I made up something like ‘oh dear, so late already?’ and a nanny too young, and kicked me out with lots of excuses. That evening Arinto and I made love as never before, but not out of excitement from our sadomasochistic experiment. We were especially overjoyed with our vanilla life.”

This article was previously published in Kek Mama.

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