Saturday, October 24, 2009

All this is gone...

Last night I went to have dinner with some friends, one of which works at one of the BDSM dungeons in Los Angeles. Due to time constraints, we ended up each picking up our own food and then meeting at the dungeon to eat and catch up.

Now, I've been there before. Club nights, play-party nights... one of those nights was actually when I met and played with GV8 for the first time before taking him home with me, when we both thought the other would be a temporary diversion.

I showed up on time, and the friend of mine who worked there was already in residence... only her boyfriend was lacking. He ended up being an hour and a half late, though it wasn't his fault.

Which means I ended up sitting in was, essentially, the waiting room for the various Dommes, subs, and switches. Almost like a holding tank, waiting for their appointments or the walk-ins.

It was interesting, to see the girls in their downtime, in the shoddy little room that my friend spends so much time in, waiting for some guy to show up and select her as his playmate for however long of a time he wishes to purchase. All of them were in their work outfits, corsets, thigh-highs, nighties that barely covered their ass, a g-string for those bounds of propriety.

She's an artist, so she surfs the net all day, works on commissions, and promotes herself. The girl that I was sharing a couch with (wearing a latex number) was working on a script for... something. I noticed the words "Guardian Angel Jews" and promptly decided not to ask her what she was working on because I would not have been able to hide my expression. Two others watched NCIS with rapt attention, and the last did short exercises that would not make her sweaty or ruin her nightie.

Once my friend's boyfriend arrived, we shifted out of the waiting room and into the center of the hive, which meant multiple doors into multiple rooms, all closed, where the occasional pro-player and her client would walk out and stroll by us.

I've always been jealous of the girls at the dungeons. Making money by looking good, receiving gifts from clients (wardrobe or implements for future play), and spending a few hours each day doing something I love doing: playing.

I knew that the clients aren't always fun, vary in degrees of attractiveness, but the charm of being able to sit somewhere and write nearly all day, with only a few well-paying distractions... it was tempting. It still is.

But seeing those girls, that room, the white-trash feel of it all... it was a bit of a turn-off. Being surrounded by women in their underwear all day sounds like it should be fun, but it seems like a torturefest of inanity and daytime television, not to mention the catty drama that invariable crops up when you put two women in a competitive environment.

There was that one girl, though, the one that seemed outside of it all. The one doing exercises in her sheer nightie, her perfect ass split by a tiny black g-string, beautiful body... she was something more. Admirable.


  1. the white trash feel of it was a bit of a turn-off.


    (A.K.A The Social Pathologist)

  2. Sounds like you're tempted by a career change? I say go for it!

  3. Slumlord, it didn't feel insightful, only sad. I hate when potential is wasted, and that place is wasting so much.

    Mysterg, you're a bad influence. I will break out a riding crop if you don't behave.