The place was packed.
I mean – PACKED.
They were turning people away at the door because the club was at capacity. It was insane – bodies everywhere. My job photographing scenes was hindered by the bodies – there were almost too many of them. I would move 5 ft from one vantage point to another – only to find a wall of tall people blocking my way.
It was crazy.
There were mostly rope scenes going on. Rope Doms were rigging the same type of woman. They were all variations of the same theme. And lucky me – I got to shoot them all.
After many of the scenes finally ended, I wandered over to claim my free drink – or my payment – for shooting photos. Once I had my drink in hand, I wandered a bit until I heard the sound of impact play – not a tasting, but the sound of someone being properly warmed up for a good scene. I wandered around until I saw the scene.
A woman bent over a spanking bench.
Her Daddy was at her head – his hand was wrapped around her tresses, and he was holding her head up so that he could see her reaction. Behind her was a Domme with a flogger – and she was going through a proper warm-up. Nice light strokes – followed by a few heavy strokes – only to go back light a bit. And the bottom was fluctuating between moaning and yelping. And both her Daddy and her other Sadist were grinning like Cheshire cats as it was happening.
The flogger was traded for a leather belt. And the song the bottom was singing became even more melodious. Her Daddy would go from grabbing her hair to grabbing her throat. Then he and the female Sadist would trade places. At one point, the bottom exclaimed, “Why are you both so amused?” This only caused their grins to widen – as her pain got worse.
There was single tails. There were zippers. There were wooden paddles and canes. Her ass was the target, then they flipped her around to make her breasts the target, then her thighs – then her cunt.
And all the while, they were like two conductors making her sing her song. Her beautiful song.
As I found myself mesmerized, I found myself longing – longing to be in her place. Longing to feel the pain, but also to feel the gentle caress coaxing me along. Longing to cry out in pain and laugh from it.