>>510398226I remember when I was 18, I got curious about femdom stuff and briefly made a fetlife account. I went to a beginners' BDSM meetup in San Francisco (they call it a munch), at a coffeehouse called Wicked Grounds. A boomer in a motorcycle jacket taught us how to use safewords and not to apply blunt trauma to certain parts of the body so you don't paralyze someone, there was some chick with a dog collar sitting in a cage. We went to Citadel after that and I saw what happens at a dungeon. Woman hanging upside down wrapped with rope, some bent over guy grunting as a dominatrix pegged him hard, some guy laying in bed getting served food by two women dressed in maid costumes, a tied-up chick screaming into a gag as she got a big vibrator shoved onto her pussy. A couple asked to practice their ropework by tying my wrists on a hobbyhorse, and I accepted. The chick (a chunky spic with halitosis, I smelled it as she leaned over me to ask if was okay) whipped me lightly with a rope, and the loss of control took me to a weird place in my head and I asked to be untied, I felt very lightheaded, disconnected with reality, and needing to lay my head on someone. I wandered into the lounge and asked a lady what was wrong since I didn't take drugs. She told me I was in a mental state called subspace, and I should be with a partner who could care for me, apparently you can become helpless and subs get hurt on accident because their pain tolerance goes way up when they're in it. I get down on the floor and some naked old guy is sitting on a sofa in front of me, with a naked girl in one arm and a naked young guy in a thong in the other, and I just stared at them. On the way out, I saw flyers for other BDSM events in the Bay Area, and noticed how single guys had to pay much more for admission than single girls and couples. I felt a bewildering, existential loneliness in that dungeon, I never felt more like a surplus commodity in my entire life.
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