seemed as big and empty as a basketball gymnasium two hours after the big game.
I remember the auction only hazily. Various “slaves” were brought out by Robin for us to bid on. I didn’t bid on any of the men, but I clearly remember the old, healed whip-scars one giant of a submissive man had on his back. The sight of them sent my vision swimming to the point where I feared I’d pass out. (You might think that very little in the way of what could happen to a human body would make a veteran ambulance crewman feel faint — and, actually, you’d be right — but, trust me, this was a different type of situation, and I wasn’t any sort of veteran around this place. I was the rawest of novices.) I also learned one of the most fundamental lessons of the SM world: submissive heterosexual males can all too often be bought cheap.
I don’t do things at the expense of my submissive.
Basic training. Thus began an association with Backdrop that lasted about two years. I went to as many of their events as I could, and even moved so I could be closer to the organization.
Backdrop had two major facets to its structure: During the day, ladies worked there as professional dominants and submissives. During most nights and on weekends, club activities took place. I hung around the place as much as I could. My presence undoubtedly got on Robin’s nerves at times, but he was usually gracious and friendly to me.
And I learned. Ye Gods, did I learn! I spent hours talking with dominants, submissives, and “switch-hitters” (as they were called in those days) of both genders. I interacted with raw novices and with people who had been doing this for years. I had many “play sessions” (as they were called at the time) and I watched many more. I talked and I listened and I read and I watched. I taught the few things I knew, and had many, many things taught to me. I dominated women and I submitted to women. I tied up and got tied up. I spanked and whipped, and I got spanked and whipped. I played at parties and I played privately.
I met masters and mistresses, submissives and slaves of both genders, novices and veterans, light players and heavy players, people who did this only occasionally and people who were “in role” with their partners 24 hours a day. (These people, I learned, were sometimes called “lifestylers.”) Many people I met at Backdrop became my friends. We shared hopes and confidences, good times and bad times, erotic play and mundane tasks.
At Backdrop events, male-dominant/female-submissive energy rarely mixed with female-dominant/male-submissive energy. As the parties progressed, the male-dominant folks usually went to one part of the house and the female-dominant folks to another. In fact, one night during a party I went over into “female-dominant” territory to get a piece of equipment and, while I got the item I wanted, it was made much more than clear to me that male dominants weren’t welcome around there just then.
Unfortunately, while Robin and the Backdrop staff didn’t regard their professional sessions as prostitution, some local cops disagreed. Backdrop got busted and put out of business (although charges were later dropped).
Abhorring the vacuum. Backdrop’s demise put the rest of us at, so to speak, loose ends. What were we to do? Where were we to go? Eventually, other people started holding events.
Bill Burns, a man I had met at Backdrop, started a legally recognized, female-dominant organization he carefully named the Service of Mankind Church. Bill is erotically submissive to women in his private play, but he’s something of a dominant and an organizer out there in real life. A male-dominant couple started an organization called Roissy (named after the town mentioned in “The Story of O”), but they broke up shortly after that, and the club dissolved.
So Bill was doing a pretty good job of organizing the female-dominant folks, but us male-dominant folks had nowhere to go. Months
I remember the auction only hazily. Various “slaves” were brought out by Robin for us to bid on. I didn’t bid on any of the men, but I clearly remember the old, healed whip-scars one giant of a submissive man had on his back. The sight of them sent my vision swimming to the point where I feared I’d pass out. (You might think that very little in the way of what could happen to a human body would make a veteran ambulance crewman feel faint — and, actually, you’d be right — but, trust me, this was a different type of situation, and I wasn’t any sort of veteran around this place. I was the rawest of novices.) I also learned one of the most fundamental lessons of the SM world: submissive heterosexual males can all too often be bought cheap.
I don’t do things at the expense of my submissive.
Basic training. Thus began an association with Backdrop that lasted about two years. I went to as many of their events as I could, and even moved so I could be closer to the organization.
Backdrop had two major facets to its structure: During the day, ladies worked there as professional dominants and submissives. During most nights and on weekends, club activities took place. I hung around the place as much as I could. My presence undoubtedly got on Robin’s nerves at times, but he was usually gracious and friendly to me.
And I learned. Ye Gods, did I learn! I spent hours talking with dominants, submissives, and “switch-hitters” (as they were called in those days) of both genders. I interacted with raw novices and with people who had been doing this for years. I had many “play sessions” (as they were called at the time) and I watched many more. I talked and I listened and I read and I watched. I taught the few things I knew, and had many, many things taught to me. I dominated women and I submitted to women. I tied up and got tied up. I spanked and whipped, and I got spanked and whipped. I played at parties and I played privately.
I met masters and mistresses, submissives and slaves of both genders, novices and veterans, light players and heavy players, people who did this only occasionally and people who were “in role” with their partners 24 hours a day. (These people, I learned, were sometimes called “lifestylers.”) Many people I met at Backdrop became my friends. We shared hopes and confidences, good times and bad times, erotic play and mundane tasks.
At Backdrop events, male-dominant/female-submissive energy rarely mixed with female-dominant/male-submissive energy. As the parties progressed, the male-dominant folks usually went to one part of the house and the female-dominant folks to another. In fact, one night during a party I went over into “female-dominant” territory to get a piece of equipment and, while I got the item I wanted, it was made much more than clear to me that male dominants weren’t welcome around there just then.
Unfortunately, while Robin and the Backdrop staff didn’t regard their professional sessions as prostitution, some local cops disagreed. Backdrop got busted and put out of business (although charges were later dropped).
Abhorring the vacuum. Backdrop’s demise put the rest of us at, so to speak, loose ends. What were we to do? Where were we to go? Eventually, other people started holding events.
Bill Burns, a man I had met at Backdrop, started a legally recognized, female-dominant organization he carefully named the Service of Mankind Church. Bill is erotically submissive to women in his private play, but he’s something of a dominant and an organizer out there in real life. A male-dominant couple started an organization called Roissy (named after the town mentioned in “The Story of O”), but they broke up shortly after that, and the club dissolved.
So Bill was doing a pretty good job of organizing the female-dominant folks, but us male-dominant folks had nowhere to go. Months
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