Much flashing ensued – of Bobette’s flashgun – nothing else!

I can’t recall going clubbing since a couple of Halloweens ago but I couldn’t say no to Princess Spider’s party to launch her book ‘Princess Spider – True experiences of a Dominatrix’; especially as I am mentioned in it.

The party was held at The Fortress, a lovely and well-equipped venue at Kentish Town. All the Virgins (people from Virgin Books who’d never been to a dungeon before) remarked on how clean, attractively decorated, seductively lit and reassuringly hygienic the venue seemed.

Captain Zip filled them in. That is to say I filled them in with tales of some other clubs where the carpets are sticky and the equipment a bit rickety.

They seemed to enjoy the frisson of contact with a dark underbelly as they stuffed more free food in their mouths, but then I put my top back on again.

Ah, it gets so warm in those dungeons.

As a writer exploring the scene pointed out at the party, he’d entered the world of fetish expecting it to be all about violence and was delighted to find it to be all about sensual pleasure.

Which explains why he was wearing a dress.

The party was a sedate affair by fetish standards, with live background keyboard music from Ian Parker, videos of ‘Dial M for Mistress’ and ‘Dominatrix Reloaded’, and lashings of free drink and food.

Kinky couture rubbed shoulders with suits and ties as it was tactfully explained to young office girls that the only use for the Astro Lamp sticking out from a collection of butt plugs was the provision of lighting.

Milling and chatting was the keynote as submissives talked to sub-editors while marketing people gasped at talk of marked flesh.

Princess Spider sat on her throne signing her autograph on the bottom – of the page – as people snapped up the opportunity to read of days spent Domming for just £7.99 at all good book retailers everywhere.

After a couple of red ones – glasses of wine that is – I looked and felt as though I’d had enough. Tipsy floaty me was taken away by a strict German woman and I woke the next morning in an archway. No, sorry, that’s woke the next morning in Archway – which is where her flat is.