[image-1] suspect this alternative scene is populated with such a high concentration of nice, genuine people because respect goes hand-in-hand with the fetish community. As long as you respect other people’s kinks, they’ll respect yours—even if you’re the kind of weirdo that wears a t-shirt, jeans, and Chuck Taylors to a fetish party like Shannon and me.[image-2]
A demented version of Mr. Wizard picked over several briefcases filled with torturous instruments before selecting what looked like a sex toy from Harry Potter—a magic wand headed with a crystal ball that created an electric current when it kissed skin. He rolled the toy across the exposed ass of a woman kneeling face down on an altar at the foot of a Roman cross. Her toes curled in pleasure.[image-3]
“That thing feels awesome!” Shannon said with wide eyes. “I mean, I’ve heard it feels good, like getting a tattoo.”
Before my eyebrow could arch in a questioning manner, she volunteered me to be shocked. At first the current made me flinch, but as it slid up my arm, a tingling sensation raised a rash of goose bumps, simulating the sensation of the warming calm that comes after shooting Wild Turkey. Shannon insisted that he shock my nuts. I wasn’t altogether opposed, but Mr. Wizard said we’d have to visit his no limits, clothing optional, private club, Fetish 2 Fetish for that kind of treatment.[image-4]
The party’s organizer, Evan Christopher, ran around in vampire fangs that could draw blood and a trench coat that made him look like a gothic Neo from the Matrix. He said this was just a taste of taboo. He’d give Tampa something to sink its teeth into at Taboo 3, October 24 at The Castle.[image-5]
The fetish duo, Styrker Vawn, lingered around the bar like the king and queen of the twisted masquerade. Stryker was dressed like a cross between a horse jockey and a German officer suited for torture. Vawn’s gymnastic body was poured into a black PVC dress stretched to its limits around her chest and ass. Black, Bettie Page hair framed her vampire-pale face, cat-eye contacts, and what Shannon described as an awesome boob job.
“I want to motorboat those motherfuckers,” Shannon said.[image-6]
It was great to get a woman’s perspective. She could voice all the things I was thinking without me being accused of chauvinism.
“If y’all normally dress like this to go out, what do y’all where for Halloween?” I asked Vawn. “Business suits and evening gowns?”
[image-7]“Oh, no,” Vawn said. “I usually walk around with a butt plug shoved up my ass.”
Suddenly my various nut-hugging Halloween costumes seemed conservative.[image-8]
“That’s Alfie’s thing too,” Shannon said. “He walks around the apartment with toys sticking out of his man-gina, then makes me take pictures.”
“You have pictures of that?” Stryker asked, leaning over her camera.
Neither of us could tell if he was serious. People generally have such an open mind at a fetish party that you can make up the most random kink—claim that you’re into being beaten with yard long rubber dongs—and someone will say, “Oh yeah? I’ve wanted to try that too.”
[image-9]For the first of three burlesque performances that got progressively more brazen, Stryker warmed Vawn up with a riding crop then used a switch blade to shred her sheer, black, body suit. The top half of Vawn’s suit was ripped off for molten wax to be poured on her exposed back. For the finale, Stryker, played the part of magician, ripping a string of gold beads out of a “secret pouch” concealed behind Vawn’s skimpy black underwear.[image-10]
The performance touched Shannon and me similarly.
“Well,” she said, turning to me when the music faded. “I’m definitely making a stop at my boyfriend’s place after that.”
Even though I had a birthday party in St. Pete to make, I was reluctant to leave. After a fetish party, all other forms of nightlife seem G rated.
“Come on,” Shannon said, moving me away from the bar. “Let’s go before I rape someone.”
[Photographs by Shannon Adams]
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