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Hedonism Part 2
If you caught my last installment, I played travel writer
and reviewed Hedonism II, calling it a veritable smorgasbord of sin.
And I promised that this time I would divulge the darker side of my
experience. So here I am to tell you that there's more to Hedonism than
just a bunch of middle aged nudists.
It was day three and I was lamenting that I hadn't been propositioned.
Of course, plenty of people had been brushing up against me, then
smiling a coy "Excuse me." Was I out of practice? Or just dense? But
Thursday night was Toga Night, which held all sorts of interesting
possibilities. I spotted him in the dining room: hip in that geek-chic
sort of way, square glasses and a boxy shirt, and definitely not in a
toga. "That guy looks interesting," I said to Madame Cole deSade, my
traveling companion and New York's most vicious dominatrix. Before I
knew it, Madame was standing at the bar chatting the young man up.
"Wanna smoke a joint?" she inquired, and he graciously accepted.
Sitting beside the pool, we learned a little bit about the handsome
25-year-old, most importantly that he was at Hedonism to "experience
new things." That elicited a chuckle from Madame. "Ever want to
'experience' a dominatrix?" she asked, and he eagerly nodded. "Would
you like to get spanked?" was her next question, and again he nodded.
After evaluating our options--or the lack thereof, as she hadn't packed
many implements--Madame dispatched our young man to her hotel room with
instructions to put on a pair of her black lace panties, leaving his
blindingly white Calvins behind in their place, and fetch her special
spanking hairbrush. She also gave him an unreasonably brief time limit,
which he of course failed to meet. All the more to be spanked for!
Off we trundled to his hotel room, hairbrush in hand. What followed
was, I am certain, not exactly what our young man had in mind. "Take
off your clothes," Madame demanded. He complied, revealing an
impressive erection. I sure was having fun! "Look at all that hair!"
Madame exclaimed. "Do you have scissors?" Our little Boy Scout produced
a Swiss army knife and she gave him a quick trim. His erection never
flagged. "Okay, over my lap," Madame instructed, and the six-foot young
man sprawled across her lap, still, I'm sure, expecting more pleasure
than pain. Well, don't you ever make that mistake, dear readers.
Smack! Madame delivered the first blow and Mr. Hard-On yelped. "Ow!
Fuck!" Another smack. And another, each followed by either an Ow! or a
Fuck! Lucky for him he never told her to stop, because I'm sure that
would've ensured a double helping of hurt. As it was, he received about
two dozen smacks, and I'm sure he'll watch what he says to strangers
from now on. By then, he no longer had an erection. But Madame ordered
him to "Get it up!" and in seconds, he was back. Up, that is. "Now jerk
off," Madame commanded. As I watched, I marveled that, yet again, my
life was paralelling a porn movie. "Don't come until I say so," Madame
reminded our young man, and I cringed the way I always do when waiting
for an amateur's pop shot. Finally he gasped, "May I come, Madame?" and
she gave him the go ahead. Or come ahead. As he spurted across his
strapping tan stomach, I decided that Hedonism was okay with me!
Later that night we met a 53-year-old who was on his sixth trip down in
only 18 months. Guess he really enjoys being naked. He didn't flinch
when Madame suggested he stick his drink stirrer into his dick. And
when he divulged that he had always wanted to experiment with a
dominatrix, we were pretty sure he had a better idea of what he was
getting himself into than our previous victim. Madame quickly fashioned
a tied-up truss-like configuration with the silk rope he'd used as part
of his toga get-up, threading it through his piercings: nipple, nipple,
Prince Albert. She bound his balls and stuffed the final knot into his
mouth, then led him on a parade through the disco. Upon their return,
she said she had ordered him to lick her shoes and kiss the ground she
stood on before she delivered a few sharp kicks to his groin. He
appeared to be happy as a clam! And eager for more.
"I'll do anything you ask, Madame," our beaming masochist admitted.
"Anything?" she inquired slyly, raising a carefully penciled brow. He
nodded. "Then I'll give you a golden shower," she stated very
matter-of-factly. "But where?" I suggested she use the outdoor shower.
Mr. Tan-and-Pierced obediently laid himself down over the drain and
Madame let loose, an evening's worth of Ketel One on the rocks raining
down into his mouth. He gulped down every drop like a champ, prompting
Madame's admiration. In the midst of this performance, a few of the
Wet, Wild and Wickeds showed up. "What's that?" one asked. "That's
weird." A second one added, "I don't like that." And as they walked
off, I heard one say, "You'll see things here you'll never see at home."
That more or less sums up the place. You will see things you won't see
at home. Of course, you might not like them. I didn't particularly
enjoy seeing overweight 50-year-olds naked, but I sure as hell don't
see that on Avenue A. And when I go back in September with my entourage
of dommes and fetishists for The Festival of Fantasy, Fetish and
Fashion, I'm sure we'll be showing the nudists a few things they've
never seen before. Of course I'll be sure to share all the dirty
details with you!
[Written in the late '90s.]
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