They've added the SkyRide, but the 25 cent binoculars look the same. Of course, last time I didn't have to go through a metal detector or have my pack X-Rayed. The security guard at the X-Ray table seemed flustered on discovering the metal rods in my pack were the chainmail handles of leather and rubber floggers. Luckily his boss didn't think it likely I would through them over the railing, or start lashing out at the other tourists, so we continued on.
After viewing the city vista like proper tourists, Mara and I headed off to the Hellfire Club at 9th ave. and 14th st. You go down a stairway from the sidewalk into a cellar with low ceilings and stone walls painted black. Women are admitted free, men pay $25, $20 with membership in a recognized group. (By prior arrangement, I carried a printout of the EhBC home page, as acceptable evidence, since we don't use membership cards.) The cashier was friendly and welcoming, the only hint of formality wasensuring we had read the rules: no alcohol or drugs; no felatio (There was no mention of cunnilingus, I guess that's permitted); no anal or vaginal sex; but the rules explicitly permit anal fingering and the insertion of toys.
I was already wearing my leathers, I only needed to pack away my jacket and hat while Mara went off to change from jeans into her play-party "little black dress". When all was ready, we checked the pack and explored the club.
We had come early, 7:30, for the virtual get-together. While the Hellfire Club has general public events every Thurdsay, Friday and saturday from 10pm, they frequently have special events from 7 until the general opening. In this case it was a gathering of people who spend time online. Most seemed to be AOLers and similar perverts, so we didn't encounter any virtual aquaintances. Attendance was small but we did talk to a couple of people. Mostly we drank pop and wandered around, becoming comfortable with the space.
Beyond the cashier's booth is a corridor with a variety of toys on each side - a dentist's chair, a cage, a few other things. The cloakroom is opposite the men's toilet, and a little further the corridor opens into the first large room. This features a (teetotal) bar, DJ booth, a display case from which toys are sold, and a couple of play areas, as well as the ladies. The second room has a long bar which was used to hold a free buffet consisting of sladas, veg and dip, and a twenty foot submarine sandwich. One corner is isolated by an open grillwork, while at several locations hanging chains provide play spots. One corner leads to a few tiny cells around a common area, each just large enough for two or three people.
Among the features for the evening was a demonstration of Fantasy Liquid Latex. A man had a brassier painted onto his bare flesh. A women had the teddy she was wearing converted into a pink and black latex garment. The price being right, I bought a small bottle to experiment with.
Some people attended in traditional fetish gear: leather & latex, cocktail dresses and underwear. Many showed up in ordinary street clothes; a few people looked weird---the guy in the Chinese pagoda hat, with black gauze from his toes, up over the hat and back down to his toes, or the fellow in sweatshirt, running shoes and socks, ampallang, and heavy metal cuff around the top of his sac, pressing down on his balls.
Time was passing, so at about 11pm, I took Mara on a tour to scout out a play location. We wound up in the back room, where I took away her clothes and shackled her to some chains hanging from the ceiling. Someone was sitting at a table against the wall, in front of and about six feet to the left of where mara stood. Though that was a little closer than I would have liked, it didn't bother me too much; he was off to the left, which made hime seem less intrusive, and certainly he would be safe enough. When a spectator took up a similar position to mara's right, and a half dozen gathered behind her, similarly nearby, I became less comfortable. At least Mara wouldn't see them, so she wouldn't feel oppressed. New York may have many regular plays, people of experience, but the clubs also act as a magnet to horny wannabee desperadoes. If the clubs do not find ways to control them, they may wind up killing the clubs as certainly as spam and wannabees have devastated the newsgroups. Well, I had better things on which to focus my energies, and my efforts quickly had Mara concnetrating on her sensations, not worrying about spectators.
I had only brought a few toys into the city, not wanting to lug them block after block, so we had an in-depth exploration of the possibilities available with what we had. But you know what a flogging is like, ours wasn't really any different; gentle in the beginning, building to intensity, stretching and exploring our capabilities. Eventually i released mara, guided her to a bench, and excused myself for a second to gather up her clothes and my toys. We sat there on the bench, cuddling, mixing post-flogging recovery with a little "parking". Suddenly i became aware our circle of admirers had moved with us. OK, so she was naked, and the huging included a little nipple-tweaking, but still.... If I weren't one of the participants, I wouldn't have thought it all that fascinating. I guess new Yorkers don't get to see things like this very often.
Mara put her dress back on and we stood leaning against a pillar, watching a scene in the corner. Suddenly she became aware there were three hands on her body. One of our fans, the one who had stood to Mara's right, who had come over to watch the cuddling, was now beside Mara and fondling her ass. Luckily a glare was enough to make him stop, without needing to involve any of the monitors (dungeon masters).
We returned to the front, where the latex demostration was continuing, and watched a woman introduce a female friend to the joys of violet wands. When she was done, I requested she give Mara a brief sample of the sensations. A few minutes later, her model returned, to explore the receiving end as a man demonstrated his skills controlling a pair of "snake" four foot bullwhips. he did an excellent job of cracking them loudly behind her back and near her head, but grazing her body and dress only with gentler strokes. I found myself wondering whether they were as totally gentle as they looked, or whether there was a certin sting to the blows.
Unfortunately we had to leave, since the last bus across the Lincoln Tunnel left at 1:20, so we missed the slave auction and subsequent events. I would have liked to see the people who put themselves up for auction, the prices they went for, and what the buyers did, but it was impossible. Anyway, every other couple had at least 60,000 HellFire Bucks, same as us, so we wouldn't have been able to buy anyone. maybe next time ...
Before we left, we took a last quick tour. Those tiny cells at the back were occupied by players, chains protecting the entrances, keeping out the throngs. Big Apple geeks crowded the common area, taking turns viewing the action, as if pushing their way to view an exhjibit at Madame Tussaud's or Ripley's Believe It Or Not.
While some of the participants display skills and manners to be held
up as an exaple, the general standards of dress and behaviour at Ontario
fetish events certainly seems exemplary after experiencing New York City.