The Dungeon Master

My occasional dalliances with Easy Rider have definitely reawakened my interest in further BDSM exploration. When a Dom contacts me through Tinder I’m immediately curious. He hosts a long running kink party and it turns out that he’s extremely experienced and quite renowned. The idea of socialising in the scene is still leaving me cold but the invitation to visit his dungeon is pretty hot.

I don’t know whether I fancy him and find his rubber clad profile picture mildly comical, but I admire his commitment to the cause and the range of his experience. And the opportunity to progress my experience from suburban playroom to full-on dungeon is increasingly fascinating.

We’ve had a brief but reasonably informative message exchange when I agree to pop in for an exploratory visit one afternoon when I’m working nearby. It’s been a stressful and intense work day, I’m not sure my head is in the right place, and I’m horribly nervous as I knock on the door of the sprawling old house. But he’s friendly as he welcomes me into the house, reassuringly taller than me, and good looking in an older, dom kind of way. We’re stood close together in his hallway when he asks if he can touch me. I nod in agreement and in one deft move he puts his arm around me affectionately and grabs my hair, roughly pulling my head back. He’s holding me firm and I sigh, feeling the tension drain from me.

In one move the mood is established. He releases me to give me the grand tour. It’s not fancy and has a bohemian vibe that sets me at ease quite quickly. But the leftover mess from the weekend looks decidedly seedy in the cold light of day, with boxes of tissues, crumpled sheets on multiple mattresses, and a nasty pair of high heeled shoes abandoned in the middle of the floor.

I’m already thinking the whole place could do with a going over with disinfectant wipes when he shows me the medical room. It’s reassuringly sterile and pretty hardcore as he explains the complexities of needle work. But hospitals make me anxious and I find the whole concept of medical play pretty horrific.

However, the chair in the middle of the room is a different matter altogether. It is vintage medical chair with arm and leg rests and multiple recliner settings and the thought of being restrained and sprawled in it is an enduringly exciting prospect.

In the big room, there’s a huge frame over a padded vinyl mat, pictures of intricate ropework, 2 beds, an interestingly shaped banana chair, and an impressive sound and lighting system – all adding up to quite the fun looking party venue.

The tour ends there and we’re stood awkwardly when he grabs me again and shoves me to the floor. He sits on the edge of a bed with me at his feet as we discuss preferences, expectations and boundaries. I’m still reeling at the speed of transition from high intensity work role to that of submissive slut, so keep the conversation practical, express my interest in further exploration, and leave with plans for the following week.

In preparation, he sends me a detailed questionnaire to complete. It’s a standard and sensible step that establishes boundaries for all concerned. It’s also a process which I enjoyed greatly, spending a very pleasurable afternoon reflecting and gaining insight into the nuances of my most intimate fantasies.

And surprisingly, trying out the questions on The Husband gave me more detailed insight into his brain too. Just when I thought we’d delved into every element possible of his complex fetishes and preferences, I learn that he gets a boner for swishy ponytails. It’s by no means the most bizarre or unexpected reveal, but I do find it fascinating that after almost 30 year of intimate exploration, we continue to discover new things about each other – and ourselves.

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