Sinning

The first sin Written on Saturday morning, December 1999

Sitting at home right now and listening to Billy Connolly singing The waltzing fool - a beautiful song. Makes me wonder why it is that he doesn't do more actual folk singing, as well as the comedy.

I'm also half asleep. I've been up partying all night, and right now it's approaching 7:30 AM. I'll start by talking about the run-up to my night out last night - I was going to an event called Sin at Picardy Place in Edinburgh.

It suddenly occurred to me to check what time the fetish party started at, and I pulled out the leaflet to take a look. It was a real disappointment to find no start time mentioned at all, and in the end I figured I'd just head round at 8:00 PM and surely it would be up and running by then. Was it buggery. I was told at the door that it didn't start until 11:00 PM and ran right through to 5:00 AM.

So I was in the middle of town and wondering what to do next. Completely stumped. I didn't want to go all the way back home, but I knew that Craig (my old boss from the Prince's Trust) lived at St. Leonard's, just up from The Pleasance, so after a while, I walked over to his place.

He was having a quiet little celebration all to himself. He was surprised to see me and I said; "Well, I needed somewhere to go and I just ran through my list of friends who would be sitting at home, alone on a Friday night. I could count them all on one hand that had been put through a meat grinder."

It wasn't long, before I was settled in comfortably and sharing a bottle of red wine with him. He had just handed in his notice to his job and was getting a bit merry. Not only that, but he had been offered a job at the East end of Glasgow and was accepting it.

We sat and had a laugh about various things and watched some TV. Porridge (that show is boring) followed by the highlights from the most recent series of Have I got news for you (a vast improvement - although I was disappointed that they didn't include the very tasteless joke about Prince Philip comparing Stephen Hawkings to Davros) and finally, Michael Parkinson.

Now, I'm not normally a fan of chat shows, but in this one, it was Billy Connolly being interviewed and he comes into his own in such shows. When he's being funny to one person with an audience of 3,000 or so, he gets totally manic. You can see his enthusiasm for the whole thing just carrying him along. It was great.

Eventually, at 10:45 PM, I figured I'd head off back to the party and got moving again.

When I got back to Picardy Place, there were some people hanging around outside, and I saw one guy wearing an impressive collar with vicious looking spikes, studded all round. We had to wait outside another ten minutes or so, before being let in. The woman stopped me and said "We have a strict dress code."

I pulled out the posing pouch I had in my pocket (a little shamefacedly - I had started worrying that this might be too extreme) and she smiled and nodded. Success! I charged off in search of somewhere to change.

Now, until recently, I'd been wearing a jacket that Shea (my ex-fiancee) gave me last year on a daily basis, but for tonight, I'd gone in search of one of my old leather ones. When I wore it down to the club, I was struck by how comfortable it was and how its condition was nowhere near as bad as I remembered it to be. I'm going to wear it all the time now - the bomber jacket can get chucked.

In the toilets, (no changing room) I was once more worrying that my dress code would be too extreme and I tried using a lace to tie back my hair in a pony tail as I mulled that over. It didn't work - my hair still isn't quite long enough for that. A pity. But suddenly, one of the cubicle doors flew open and a guy stepped out in a red, leather dress and cried out "Ta-daaa!"

I laughed and turned round. I thanked the guy and told him that I was fully relaxed, now - my own costume paled in comparison to his and I had really been worrying about it.

Ten minutes later, I was wearing my TA boots, my posing pouch, my leather jacket and my collar and looking for somewhere to stash my clothes. I dumped them temporarily on a chair and wandered up to the bar and was just about to order a drink, when someone offered me a free glass of champagne. Never one to turn down free booze, I accepted and the guy (who had a pale face, a demonic kind of goatee and black shadows round his eyes) turned to the barman and said;

"Will you get this gentleman a drink?" Suddenly, he clapped a hand to the side of his head, like he'd screwed up and slipped out of character and he added. "In fact, just do it, bitch! Do it now!"

The barman (who was wearing an incredibly large, blonde curly wig) laughed and poured the drinks. I was getting more relaxed all the time. No-one seemed to be taking this seriously and this had been what was worrying me most of all.

I had my drink, took my clothes upstairs and then started wandering around. There was a table piled high with ropes round sticks and some pictures of Japanese bondage, which is pretty bizarre. There was another table with some black, leather straps and stuff. Very impressive and expensive looking stuff.

As the night progressed, and things got under way, I saw various imaginative costumes being brought through to be displayed. My neck was constantly swivelling - every time the door opened, I would swing round to see what else would arrive. There was a male, bare chested nun and his gay partner. There were hordes of women wearing the skimpiest, or most tight-fitting leather gear imaginable. It was these women who really kept capturing my imagination and attention.

At one point, a very attractive woman decided she wanted me to try on a leather collar with leather cuffs attached by another strap and I ditched my jacket and tried it on. A little bit of experimentation followed and we found that if my hands were tied in front of me, I could easily undo the cuffs. But if they were behind me, I had no chance.

Suddenly, she decided that since she had me at her mercy, then I was going to be tickled. Before I knew it, I was on the floor and howling - tickling is definitely not something I can cope with very well. In fact, it was a good job I was cuffed, 'cos if people try it on me normally, I can flail out so violently that there's a distinct possibility of hitting the person who's doing the tickling.

The high point of the evening came when I got a chance to try out the Japanese bondage. This time, I didn't just ditch my jacket, but my posing pouch as well and was led naked (well - I still had my boots on) into the middle of the room, where I had a huge audience. There was already a girl tied to a post and gagged and blindfolded. She was wearing only a pair of panties - nothing else, unless you count all the ropes.

I was sat on a chair and had my arms tied behind my back by a very attractive young woman, and then she drew one rope down my spine, between my cheeks and up the other side. Next thing, she was splicing it round my cock to keep it prominent and well displayed, then knotting it on the upper side. I was already semi-erect, but suddenly I was completely hard and on display to everyone in the room who was sitting in front of me.

I was left alone for a while, and my cock subsided a bit and then a very attractive Australian girl stepped forward and started talking to me. There was no way I could move, I was completely naked and a beautiful Aussie was asking me loads of questions about what I thought of the night. We spoke about the various costumes and I complimented her on hers, which was just a slinky dress. At one point, she bent over to get something out of my jacket to write her 'phone number down and I got a beautiful view. I tried not to think about it - I was a bit embarrassed about having been so shamelessly hard earlier on.

The Aussie went away, but suddenly this guy stepped forward, took a look at me and started shouting about what a big cock I had. I mean, he was really shouting it to everyone. He walked round the tables, saying "Look! Look at it!" to people and some people were actually standing up to take a look at me, agreeing and then sitting down again.

Now, that has to be a unique experience for me.

Then more ropes were being added, and suddenly I was being trussed to a pulley that was strung between two pillars and finally, hoisted right off the ground. It was at this point that someone came down and started shouting that the club would be closing soon and people should collect their clothes from the cloakroom. Oops.

Someone who introduced herself as Mistress Leona stepped forward and then decided that since I was now helpless, she would start dominating me. Nothing I could do to prevent that. At one point, she attached nipple clamps to me, then in full view of the room (once more) she took a riding crop and started whipping my cock with it, gently until it was completely erect again. In fact, I was pretty much whipped all over. I always flinched hardest, though, when she started being less gentle with the riding crop on my cock. My whole body jerked every time, in fact.

Eventually, I was released, I found my clothes and had to make my way home. I walked all the way back to Gracemount, and that's a fair few miles - it took nearly two hours. But it was a great night, and I'd love to try it again next month.

* * * * *

The second sin Written on Monday morning, December 1999

I went to bed shortly after writing that last lot and got up at something approaching 8:00 PM - about three hours before Transmission was due to start on Calton Road. I had decided that I was definitely going to get to this next event.

This has been running a lot longer than Sin and was supposedly a lot better, and admittedly first appearances bore that out. It wasn't, though. It seemed huge at first - one set of steps leading to the dungeon and another leading to the room where the main party event was. But a little further exploration revealed that that was precisely all there was to the place - and it was bloody cold. I spent most of the night with my jacket zipped up against the cold, even though the real reason for the jacket was so that it would be unzipped and displaying me.

Eventually, I ended up in the dungeon and found that one of the couple of very small rooms was warm and was subsequently packed. It was at this point that the real fun of the night started.

I spoke to one of the Mistresses, who asked what my kink was - I told her it was exhibitionism. How best to use that kink? I told her that if I was stripped naked and shown off to people, that would be a huge thrill. I also told her I would like a shot of the giant "X" with the straps on it. She was keen and we went over to it.

I dropped my jacket on a chair and took off my thong as well, and then we went over and she started strapping me to it. Rather than face the "X" with my back towards the room, though, I put my back towards it and she started buckling up the straps. My ankles first, then my legs and then my thighs. I was semi-hard at that point, but she deliberately brushed me and I went harder. She buckled up my my arms and then started stroking me with the crop she had.

She brushed it across my chest and nipples, and then (seemingly accidentally) she brushed it the length of my cock. The slightest pressure and I was sighing into her face - she smiled at that and then started swatting me.

Now, I have to concede that pain really isn't my thing - it's being seen that really turned me on. Some people were watching and that was really arousing me. Especially when the Mistress told me she was going to leave me alone for a few minutes so people could get a good look at me. Then she walked out the room.

When she came back, she told me that someone had told her that nudity wasn't allowed. We were both astonished by this, but rather than undoing me completely, she undid my legs, then pulled my thong onto me and tucked my cock inside. It was pointing downwards, though - and any erection was going to be hindered by that.

She stepped close then and whispered in my ear that she wanted to see my cock as hard as it could get. Then she cupped it in her hand and stroked it for a few seconds, before letting it go. It stiffened slightly, but I knew it would be hampered by my thong as long as it pointed downward.

She then started swatting me all over, very lightly with the crop - paying special attention to my nipples and sometimes hitting me pretty hard, unexpectedly. Every so often, she would brush the tip of the crop across my cock and eventually I told her that it wouldn't rise unless it was adjusted. She slipped her hand inside and adjusted it, allowing it to poke out the top of my thong. I thought that this would be against the "no nudity" rule, but she made no move to tuck it back out of sight again.

She then said that she was going to walk away and let people look at me again. I looked up and saw some people smiling at me.

She came back and started swatting me some more, but kept stepping close so that my cock brushed against her body, or she would reach down and stroke it every so often. I knew that I would get no relief here and would eventually have to rely on my own hand when I got home, but this treatment was making me incredibly hot.

And then she started swatting my cock with the crop. Lots of light strokes, punctuated intermittently by hefty ones that made my eyes water. I never knew what to expect from her, but it was incredible stuff.

And eventually, I was released from the "X" and allowed my freedom.

I went home shortly after that. Apart from that one thing, there was nothing to recommend that second night. It was cold in most places and the people there didn't seem particularly friendly. At Sin they seemed pretty keen to make the night fun, and they seemed enthusiastic about the whole event. Here, it seemed pretty tired and even tame as far as the "no nudity" rule was concerned. I had been under the impression that this went hand in hand with fetishism in general. A shame, really. I don't think I'll be back to that one.

What I would love now, is to go to The Torture Garden in London. That is a genuine ambition for me now. To go with someone and spend a night as either a sub or a dom and explore more fantasies with a partner would really turn me on. That's what I want to do now.

Perhaps I'll manage that sometime this year.

* * * * *

The third sin Written on Thursday evening, December 2000

It's been nearly a year since I last got to any kind of fetish event. This was the Violate Christmas part and it was held on Saturday, the 3rd of December. Once again, I dusted off the posing pouch/thong/whatever it's called and grabbed my leather jacket and my boots. And then I caught the bus into Edinburgh to join the party.

Since last December, I've moved into Paisley in pursuit of gainful employment, but without too much success. I'm no longer working voluntarily, but at least now I'm studying outdoor pursuits at college. This generally leaves me pretty exhausted and falling asleep in front of The Simpsons every evening when I finally get home from a hard day of wind-surfing in force four winds, or ski-ing or whatever is on the curriculum. I haven't generally had too much energy left to pursue fetish events or too much money to pay my way into them as a result of this.

But I couldn't miss the Violate Christmas party, so since I had a spare few quid I travelled into Edinburgh, crashed at my parents' place and told them (truthfully, but withholding a few vital details) that I was going to a Christmas party.

As soon as I got there, there was a bit of a crisis. Should I just pay the basic entry fee, or should I fork over the extra (paltry) couple of quid to become a member? The difference was negligible, but I hardly had any spare cash, so I was caught in a dilemna. In the end, I decided it was more important to be able to buy a couple of beers, so I decided to bypass membership this time round. I walked over to a table and chair, pulled my thong thing out of my bag and got changed into it there, rather than in the gents. It appealed to me to think that people could watch if they were so inclined, and anyway I hate getting changed in toilets. No-one, unsurprisingly, seemed particularly interested, though.

The place was pretty empty at first, and for about an hour or so, I wandered about, waiting for things to pick up. I took a look at the couple of obligatory bondage devices, wondering which of them looked most fun - a set of stocks, a thing for strapping a victim in place, arse up and head down and a complicated, but exciting looking structure with wrist and ankle cuffs. This last thing was designed to hold two people face to face - or back to back, I suppose. Or any variation thereof. I wanted to try it out, but more than that, I wanted to be able to strap someone else into it at my mercy.

I walked over to a table and looked at some bondage items that were on display and being sold and debated whether or not to buy anything there. I saw an interesting looking rubber thing - almost like a cross between a condom and a periscope - and after a bit of internal debate, eventually parted with some more of my precious cash and bought it. It was designed to be worn over the top of an erection, as near as I could tell… but the problem lay in how to wear the damn thing!

One of the event's organisers kindly tried to help out and for a while, I had a great time as Fhionna and I struggled to get this thing onto my cock. Unsuccessfully, but very enjoyably. Initially, I tried putting it on while I was still flaccid, but Fhionna soon told me that she thought I needed to be hard. A brief pause, and then I grabbed myself and started pumping and she laughed, stepped forward and grabbed my nipples - presumably by way of encouragement. Now, in theory an erection had its merits - providing a firmer cock to roll this thing onto. But since that also meant a larger cock, the theory was quickly thrown out the window.

Eventually, we gave up, my money was refunded and I picked out something that held more promise and a lot more potential excitement. A leather strappy kind of thing which was also designed to be worn over a cock. Brilliant! One strap holding five others that held buckles - the biggest of which was fastened behind the scrotum and the others round the shaft.

I debated going to the toilet to try and put it on, but eventually grabbed a chair in the room and brazened it out. I had just been wanking in full view of everyone, so it wasn't like this was anything particularly outrageous in comparison. When it was on, I walked down the room, caught and returned a smile from an attractive, slim girl dressed in tight PVC and suddenly saw myself in a full sized mirror running right along the far wall. My semi-erect cock bouncing in front of me, but with the presence of the strappy thing transforming it from a sad and pathetic boner that did nothing but reveal my arousal to everyone into a proper, genuine, fetishy kind of thing. This was how my train of thought was running, at least.

By now, the place was starting to pack out and become more interesting. There were the usual outfits that had fascinated me so much at Sin and Transmission last year - the transvestites, the piercings, the figure hugging black outfits, the collars, the leads… There were the usual women for me to lust after, the usual friendly and welcoming attitudes to give the lie to any initial extreme impressions that people who just aren't familiar with such lifestyles can't help but form. I loved it. And there was I, having long since ditched my thong thing and my leather jacket which served no purpose but to provide a token, lame addition to my outfit - in favour of this strappy thing which I was so happy with. It even had a bit at the end for clipping things onto. Weights, presumably. Or a dog lead, or a pair of handcuffs maybe - for convenience sake, of course. I have a pair at home which I had meant to take with me, but forgotten completely.