24.7

We went to PowerExchange in San Francisco last Saturday night, the day before the Folsom Street Fair.

We’d spent the day cruising around San Francisco in a convertible which OMIGOD is the way to sightsee! I can’t believe how much more of the city I saw than I ever have before.

PowerExchange doesn’t open until 10 pm and around 8, after a great Italian dinner, I wasn’t sure how I was going to stay awake until then. Even an espresso doppio, drunk in an outdoor cafe while people-watching, didn’t help.

But I survived. We got there at 10:30, after me changing from jeans and a sweater into a mini-dress and heels in the back of the car (not a BIG car).

We went in, and first went through the main floor, which was pretty standard - a shop in which you could buy kinky clothes and floggers, etc, a “bar” without any alcohol, music playing, etc. Very few people were there yet.

We went down into the basement and there was a lot more going on. It was set up as series of rooms off of a main room, with several kinds of spanking benches, a St. Andrew’s cross, etc. There were a few people playing, but a lot more people wandering around looking. This was typical in the LA clubs we’ve been to, as well. The difference here is that the people wandering around were mainly men, mainly naked men. Mainly naked men who were masturbating, many of whom seemed intent upon rubbing up against me or any other nearby woman. I understood at that point why they had set up the third floor, where we went next.

Only couples and single women are allowed on the third floor. It costs more to go there too. Oh, and the couples have to stay together, I guess so that a guy doesn’t ask a woman to come with him so he can get up there and prowl around.

When we first went up almost noone was there. We looked in each of the side rooms, one was a kind of medieval theme with a couple of throne-type chairs and a big table. Another room had a giant bed. Another had a spanking bench and a couch and a smaller (queen size, I think) bed. Another had a pole for pole dancing! The big central room had lots of couchs and beds around the outside. Oh, and the bathroom was for men AND women! That was a little odd, I thought.

We sat on a couch for a bit and snuggled. Richard had been very quiet for most of the day, and I was feeling a little worried about it. It wasn’t just that he was quiet, he seemed more…distant than usual, more disconnected from me. We don’t usually spend two full days without any alone time (except when we went to bed at night) and I think it was affecting both of us.

In my vanilla days, I would have wanted to talk about it: how are you feeling? are you angry? are you upset about anything? But here we were at a BDSM club, and here I was with my Master and Owner. So instead I said “I really love spanking benches. Would you spank me please, Daddy?”

“You want a spanking, little girl? You know there are people around. You want them to see me spank you?”

No, I did not. I did not want to be spanked in front of anyone. But I wanted to feel connected with him again, and I hoped that would do it. So I said “Yes please.”

So he took me by the hand and walked me to the spanking bench and got me settled on it. I let my hair fall over my face so I wouldn’t see if anyone came in.

Richard pulled my dress up over my ass and pulled my panties down and rubbed my ass and my legs until I wiggled. Then he started to spank me.

It was such a wonderful combination, feeling very comfortable on the padded bench and feeling the stinging of the spanking.

Occasionally he would stop and rub my ass again and nuzzle my ear and I would hear people moving through the room.

After a while, he pulled up my panties and pulled down my dress and helped me stand up from the bench. I felt very quiet and shy and submissive - I think this is what people refer to as “sub space” (had to think for a minute; the first thing that came to mind was “sub torpor” - uh, no).

He brought me over to the couch and we sat and talked quietly and he petted me. Another couple came in and lay down on the bed. After kissing and making out for a few minutes, he pulled off her panties and went down on her. She started moaning “Oh yeah, oh that’s good, oh do it to me Daddy.”

I was a little surprised that they were totally going for it right in front of us, but it was interesting. After a while, they got up and wandered out into the main room. We got up a few minutes later and did the same; I think we would have fallen asleep if we had stayed there.

The main room had picked up while we were inside. There were several couples in various stages of foreplay or out-and-out fucking in the beds along the edge of the room. Other couples were walking around the room and would stop and watch at different beds.

One guy was getting a blowjob from a girl, and he was very interested in seeing who was watching them. He kept looking over his shoulder to see who was there, and finally turned her around so he could see better. We noticed that he lost his erection whenever people weren’t looking. Now THAT’S an exhibitionist.

People all around us were fucking and that’s when I realized: I am TOTALLY not vanilla anymore. The vanilla sex was boring to me. I kept wanting one of them to swat his partner on the ass, or grab her by the neck, or SOMETHING for god’s sake. To make it interesting. Because just watching them fuck, while it was clearly doing it for the couples that were wandering from bed to bed watching, was not doing anything for me. Richard said he felt the same way.

We got up and wandered around the club again, to see what was going on on the other floors and in the other rooms. What was going on was lots of sex, but almost exclusively vanilla sex.

In one room, there were two couples having sex. One guy was fucking a woman from behind, while another woman played with her breasts. The first woman reached over and started playing with the second woman’s pussy. The second woman’s partner was fondling her breasts and kissing her and mainly watching what was happening.

Richard walked me back to our couch, holding onto my wrist as we went. We sat down and just watched all the sex happening around us. He was quietly rubbing my shoulder and dragging a finger along my neck and the side of my face. He rubbed the back of my neck, then wound his fingers through my hair. Suddenly he tightened his hold on my hair and pulled my head back until my neck was straining.

I looked up at him, startled. His eyes looked eery in the blacklight, like a demon or a vampire. He stared down at me as he traced my lips and my chin and then down to my chest and along my bra. He leaned over, not releasing his hold, and nibbled along my jaw and to my lips. He bit down on my lip and I reflexively pulled away.

Not a good idea. He pulled back harder on my hair, so hard that I had to strain to stay upright. He bit my lip again, harder. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, realizing that he was in no mood for me to fight him. Something had made him aggressive, I didn’t know what, and I was going to have to ride it out.

He continued to hold my head back with his hand in my hair, releasing it at one point only to change his hold. He slowly, gently dragged the tips of his fingers along my face and neck, dipping occasionally into the neckline of my low-cut dress.

My heart started to race, thinking of all the people watching everything that was happening in the room. I didn’t want them to see my breasts. But Richard didn’t care. His fingers would move away from my breasts and I would start to relax. Then his grip would tighten in my hair and his teeth would find the side of my neck or my cheek and I would clench. He would nuzzle me for a bit and loosen his hold and I would relax again. And then he would pull my hair back even farther, so that the whole expanse of my neck and chest were exposed, and push aside my bra with his fingers and pinch and tease my nipples. It was such an incredible juxtaposition of sensations: the brief, sharp pain of being bitten, the dull ache of having my head held back, the exquisite feeling of my breasts being tugged and pinched that made a direct connection to my throbbing, soaking wet cunt. And over it all, the feeling of being completed owned and dominated.

It went on for an eternity. I felt incredibly awkward and shy, yet at the same time more excited and aroused than I think I have ever been. The next day, when we were talking about it and began to fuck, I came harder and longer than I can ever remember. Does that make me an exhibitionist?

Now I’m going to go make dinner for the family - homemade chicken enchiladas. It’s getting cooler here, so I can use the oven again. I’m going to be baking bread this weekend too. It was wonderful going away on such an adventure, but it’s also really nice to be home again.

xoxoAmy