Houston has a large and active BDSM community, and they frequently host parties that are open to the public, the most famous of which is the S&M Ball, thrown by the local group HPEP (Houston People Exchanging Power).

Every once in a while I'll get a wild hair to go to one, just to see what that world is up to. I have no real fetish for heavy play of that sort, (but don't mind the ocassional blindfold and handcuff sort of light B&D every once in awhile) but the breadth and variety of human sexual expression has always been a source of fascination for me. So a few times a year I'll go to one of the dungeon parties just to lurk about and be a voyeur.

As the Latin poet and playwright Terentius (Terence) wrote:

"Homo sum; homini nihil a me alienum puto."

"I am human, so nothing human is alien to me."

One type of party I've never attended is a "Dark Party." A dark party is one for only the most experienced and kinky folk, where most of the normal rules regarding SSC (safe, sane, consensual) play get called off, and nearly anything goes. (So I'm told :-)

A while back, a man named Travis posted onto one of the BDSM newsgroups a tale regarding a Houston Dark Party, and I found it to be at once one of the most kinky and hilarious stories I'd ever read, a combination I think you will agree is fairly hard to pull off. :-)

So I thought you might enjoy it, too. Be forewarned however, it might offend some of the more straitlaced, so if you're inclined that way, skip this.

You Have Been Warned. Without further ado...

"This past Saturday night I hosted one of my "Dark Parties". These started a few years ago, actually based on a thread on the old alt.sex.bondage newsgroup. I went from that thread and posted on several Texas email lists about that concept. It was about the idea that much of the passion and darkness had left the bdsm scene, the more we had organized and become "acceptable". It was my contention that basically no one had actually gotten into bdsm so they could go to a well lit public dungeon party, with lots of DMs, and play someone with a violet wand.

To my amazement, the reaction I got when I said things like that was pretty overwhelming. I had men write to me and say how they were totally losing interest because every thing was about "technique", or SSC, or rules, and they got into this to get away from rules and people telling them what to do, and worrying about PC stuff.

They wanted whippings, and blood, and sex, and as much darkness as they could get.

The women wrote in and said the same. I had several very lovely young women write to me saying they got into this because of their desire "not to be protected". They wanted to be "wanton", to be used, to be flogged and fucked and hurt, and slapped, and fucked a bit more, before they took their cigarette break to start over with the next bunch of molesting/rapist/insensitive/demented men with big dicks, or women with bigger dicks.

They did not want to be protected by DMs. They did not want someone negotiating each step of the way. They wanted something "hot" not "safe". Wild, not sane. And "showing up" was consent.

I decided to start again having my "dark parties" to cater to the other sick fucks I knew. and that is what we did, starting this past Saturday night.

On each invitation I have sent over the years concerning these parties I have referred to "gang bangs, motorcycle gangs, and Great Danes". That was an effort to tell people that anything goes here. No rules, no DMs, no concern for PC stuff. If you want to do it, here is the place to do it at. (ok, one rule. I serve a lot of champagne at these parties. If you drink, I decide if you can drive - that's it)

Last Wednesday, I got a lovely letter from a lovely Dom in another city in Texas who was coming to the party. (God bless um, we had folks from 3 states, and 7 cities come to this party). She reminded me of the comments about Great Danes, and asked if I was serious. She reminded me of her Great Dane, the largest and most beautiful male GD I have ever seen. Told me he was "trained", and that they had a lovely young woman who would love to "perform" with the dog if they could bring him.

My response was "sure". I said "sure" in that Intelligent, wise, open minded way that I have, that says, "sure, if you are that sick and disgusting, go ahead. Who am I to stop you from having your fun". I did not say it in that demented drooling slobbering fashion that so many of you would have had, reflecting on your own insecuritites and sicknesses.

So "Chief" became the guest of honor. (OK, he stayed out in the side yard with my Black Lab for most of the evening, but he did make an appearance as a guest of the party. Be patient, I will get there)

The party started as always. The cost of the party is basically that you have to bring "food". Not just food, but "FOOD". Great food. Exciting food. The best dish you know how to make. We want to excite all the senses. We want no restaurant in Houston to have better food than our play party will. So people brought "FOOD". We had cajun, we had barbeque, desserts of all kinds, fancy french stuff, wild hot stuff, we had "FOOD".

We had music. People at my grand piano in one room, enigma remixes in another room, the butt boys in another room, and "In Slaughter Natives" (my personal fav scene music) playing in the fisitng room.

The night saw its share of saline injections, floggings with fistings, floggings without fistings, fistings without floggings, bullwhips, snake whips, blood, cum, and yes, a bathroom watersports slave for a while. Lots of piercings, a bit of bondage thrown in for the purists, and lots of naked bodies in my swimming pool. Knife play for designs, knife play for blood, and knife play with fucking lesbians with big fucking dildos. (I know, sounds like a fucking menu, dont it?)

And at 2:00 AM out comes Chief. The "MAN", the Guest of Honor. The "Big Dog". The big enchilada. Everyone, OK, not everyone, but lots of folks, goes back to my bedroom. (Glad it is a good size room, we fit about 40 folks in it that night for the "show"). People crowded wall to wall.

Being the good clean SSC kind of guy I am, having learned every thing I know from cowboys with bullwhips, wino's on the street, and the gurus of SSBB, I decided I should make a PC announcement. So I did.

I told everyone that 'this is for real". This really is a dog, he really has a dick, and he really loves to fuck, and it really is going to happen, right here, right now. I said that if this squicks you, please leave. We have folks that want to do this, and folks that want to watch. If it is not "your thing", we accept that. If you think it is wrong, report us, we will admit to what we did. (Texas has no bestiality laws, but you cannot sell dildos. Got to love this state).

But please do not stay here, watch it, and bitch. (Don't you just love the word bitch in this context?)

Then the fun started. We had an absolutely beautiful young oriental woman who had this as her number one fantasy. She begged to do it. She "needed it". She wanted to be first. She was naked on her knees begging me. Offering me anything if I would allow this. Well, being that kinder, gentler, sensitive Dom of the new millenium, who was I to withhold from her her life's desire?

We put her down, on her knees in front of the dog.

And the Goddam LimpDick ChickenShit Cat-Loving Dog yawned.

That's right. The Bastard MotherFucking Star of the God Damn Show yawned.

We had "fluffers" do their thing. We had women stroke the damn dog, pet the damn dog, tell it what a wonderful dog he was, put peanut butter on the ladies pussy, rub pussy smell all over the dogs mouth, and the fucking (sorry, non-fucking) dog, just loved the attention. He kept wagging his god damn tail and smiling and licking people on the face and hands and every god damn place in the god damn world except this poor girls cunt. (Those of you into humiliation should be pretty fucking hard or wet or both about now, but it got worse.)

He loved having 40 folks watch his every move. He loved the attention. He wanted every one to pet him. He wanted to lick everyone who wanted to pet him. What he did not want was to fuck this absolutely gorgeous wanton spread wide on her knees slut from hell.

(Ok, Taiwan, but you get the idea)

God Damn No-Show Worthless LimpDick Show-Ruining, Piece of Useless Protoplasm.

Geesh. Throw a party and a God Damn Great Dane fucks you over but won't fuck the girl.

Geesh and God Fucking Damn.

Let me tell you pc animal lovers. Dont ever worry about pressing a dog into fucking women "without consent". If they don't "consent" they don't fuck. Lordy we tried. He didn't consent. She did not get fucked.

The show was almost over.

Almost.

(Ah, like hollywood, there is always one last twist just when you thought the movie was over and the bad guy already dead.)

We have given up. We are ready to go back to regular folks fucking regular folks in all sorts of normal perverse sick and disgusting ways. All of which seemed so terribly anticlimactic at this stage. I mean, once you have been rejected by a dog, your sense of sexuality is a little let down.

And then out comes "S", our biggest, sluttiest gay male. Who walks up to the dog and says "I have always wanted to be fucked by a dog, let me try".

So we laugh.

I mean this is a guy dog. He had his shot at the quintessential oriental naked slut whore, a 5'2, 105 lb female with great breasts and the sexiest pouty mouth.

Why in the world would he want this huge, 6'6, 300 lb. guy?

Who fucking knows? But the God Damn dog got the most instant huge hard on you have ever seen.

Obviously when Johnny Holmes reincarnated, he came back as a Great Dane, and we had him. This fucking dog's dick was as big as mine is small. World Class. Gold Medal Stuff.

The moment S got down on his knees the dog had his legs up on S's back and his dick thrusting at something, anything, begging to find a hole.

In about 30 seconds they were fucking to beat the band and did not stop for a long time.

Who knew it?

A God Damn gay fucking dog.

The Christians are right.

Gays are taking over the world.

They do have an agenda.

But who knew it was not the schoolchildren of the US, but our family pets??

The moral of this story is that the safest place to be is at one of my dark parties. You see, everyone that showed up had a good time, and got home safe. The worst thing that happened to anyone who showed up at the party was a hot chick's idea of satisfying her dog fucking fantasy turned into a hot humiliation scene.

But my closest friend that was not able to come to the party called me at 6:00am Sunday morning to tell me she had been arrested and I had to get her out of jail.

And you thought fucking gay Great Danes was bad.

It's not in Texas, but drinking and driving is. So, see you at the next party."

I guess I'll have to try and make the next one. ;-)

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...is my Dalmatian. I haven't finished her entry yet...

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William Makepeace Thackeray

What I should be doing is working on some templates so I can port this over to my friend Napalm's server and his blogging software, but I have this problem - too many things boiling around in my head waiting to be written.

I've got notes for over two dozen entries laying around, and they're brainworming me, clamoring for me to get them out of my head and into little 0's and 1's bandying about cyberspace. Every day, as I go for my walk, (two-a-days start tomorrow) I think of a few more. I've taken to carrying a little notebook and pen in my pocket, just to jot down the ideas that always seem to come streaming in. Exercise, running and walking in particular, always does that for me.

I have a theory that getting the corpuscles up and trudging about inspires creative thought. I don't know the mechanism, but I know it exists.

Writer's block is the least of my problems.

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