When I go to play in public, my claws come out. This is a competition for me, second place won’t do, and I thrive on the attention, or humiliation, I get. I had been to a lot of fetish events and parties in Germany, mostly in Berlin, but also more private parties across Europe. I loved them, and will take every opportunity to go back. Then I got invited to a Torture Garden Party in London. Of course, I was all in. I had heard mixed things about the TG events, but London is always worth a visit and I was just curious how I would stack up against ‘hard core’ fetish lovers and submissives.

There are a couple of things I learned over the years. It’s going to be hot, feet are going to hurt, changing rooms are limited, toilets even more so, and easy access for spanking, pussy play, nipple torture, or other games are an imperative.

My go to dress is always latex, easy on, easy off hooks in the back, and just long enough to wear getting to the party, and pull up as needed, or instructed. I am among those who like to dress up for parties. The dress is shiny, hair done, make-up, and (that’s true) high heels – even if I have to wear them the entire evening.

This sounds terribly obnoxious, but when I go to a play party, I want to be the center of attention. At the TG party, the public play space was a joke (sorry). The only place to do some more serious play was in the couples lounge, which was mostly a closed off area to have sex, but it also had a few pieces of bondage furniture.

I saw a couple using the spanking bench and was not impressed. When they left, I jumped on the bench, pulled up my dress, and exposed my bum to a good spanking. My partner was slightly less comfortable to be so shameless in a public space and gave me a nice warm-up. Nothing that was going to impress anyone. Then it all changed.

He was probably over 60. Wearing a latex uniform, tall, good figure, and frankly everything I always imagined an experienced Dom would look like with age. He had his own slave by a leash. Her collar was heavy, welded steel with a lock in front. She was pretty, maybe late 20s, and very well trained.

“May I?” He asked my partner first, who was a bit shocked that someone else wanted to play with me. Then the gentleman asked me very respectfully, “would you allow me to take over?” Inside me was a big, ‘YES’ screaming out, but instead I tried to impress him with a subdued “You may, Sir, please.” I knew that I was risking embarrassing my partner, but I wanted it.

Oh my God!!! Was he good!!! I’m still feeling his hand as I’m typing this. His hand was heavy, rough, aged. And every stoke of his hand had a purpose. Nothing happened by accident and he hit every spot exactly the way he wanted to. How do I know? It was like having a great sex partner. The rhythm is just right, speeding up to a near climax, then slowing down without ever breaking the scene.

He whispered regularly in my ear to check in with me, or when he was about to touch a new area. As much as I wanted to know what an experienced Dom could do, he completely respected that I was not his. I would have said yes to almost anything, but he never failed to ask for permission.

The spanking lasted for quite some time. My eyes were mostly closed, but occasionally I could look up and see a crowd assembled around us. He even talked to people, explaining what he was doing. I don’t know what he said, but remember the progression. Cheeks, to warm up, maybe slightly more than warming up. Then he ordered me to turn around and spread my legs. Standing between them, he worked on my inner thighs next. It hurt, and almost ever blow landed so close to my pussy that I could feel the air flow over it.

He asked me to take off my dress. Then he beat my back with his bare fist and not once did he hit anything but muscle. I had never been punched on my back. Part massage, part bruising, he made my blood rush all over my body. Then my chest. I hesitated when he asked if he could punch my breasts, but then only asked him to be careful with my piercings. He smiled.

The punching and spanking continued. He paid attention to every part of my body, even my feet, my face, and eventually, my pussy.

“Have you ever come from being slapped on your cunt?”

“No, Sir, I have not. I would like to, Sir.”

He placed one hand over my eyes and pushed my head against the back of the bench. His weight on me, I couldn’t move if I wanted. I was more immobilized than during any bondage session. He waited for a few minutes, long enough for me to feel the bruises that were sure to cover my entire body. My skin was burning, and it was getting hotter by the minute.

The longer he waited, the more I could feel my tortured body. Not a single muscle was left unscathed. I was sweating, burning up, and no way to escape. I didn’t want to, not without my reward. Even if my pussy was going to suffer the same fate as the rest of my body.

Then he pushed my pussy open, two fingers pressed my labia aside, exposing my clit. Even though it had been left untouched until now, it was throbbing in anticipation. I wanted him to inflict pain on me, on my pussy, on my clit. And he did. Without letting go of my labia, he snapped his middle finger like a knife over my clit. Only his fingernail touched me. It was a stinging pain. Then another, and another.

Pain is an understatement. I struggled against his hand, but my head would not budge and I did not dare use my hands or my legs. I struggled, but I didn’t want it to end. Rarely do I enjoy pain. And this was just about as painful as anything I had done before.

“Now come for me.” He let go of my head, stepping back, watching me together with the crowd that surrounded me. Everyone was watching, and I was coming before I even had a chance to touch myself.

As it turns out, the gentleman who played with me used to own a famous BDSM Club in Hamburg for 30 years (Catonium). I had never met him, but knew of him. A good Dom is like good wine. They age well. His slave is a fucking lucky girl.