I’m tired so I’m just going with impressions-
The dungeon itself was awesome. It’s 1763 in Atlanta. Really cool and something I would write. They had playrooms and a closet cage I would kill for.
Black is a real popular color. Wow. Lots and lots of it. Black Black Black.
I saw more bitchy subs last night than I ever thought could to exist. They bitched about the music, they bitched about how hard they were being tapped and they bitched about not having the attention they wanted. Gods, I had no idea how rare the idea of service is to the kinky world at large. It was a meal thingy, where you got your own food and found a place to sit. I didn’t see a single sub become a table for their dom. Hell, I didn’t see a single sub hold their dom’s plate. WTF?
Speaking of meals, it was a lovely dungeon. No where to sit except the bondage benches and tables. Guess what they served to eat? Spagetti and Alfredo. Two of the messier foods I’ve ever eaten and they ask me to use their lovely bondage furniture to eat? Is this a test?
My favorite dom was an old man who was tanned from years of wrestling marlins. His hands were gnarled and his hair was stock white. I watched him whip a submissive for thirty minutes with more skill and grace than I thought was possible. I want to be him when I am 96.
They had private rooms with themes. They showed us a medical room and gave us a long warning that you had to prove you were qualified to use the equipment. Then they showed us a fitness room and moved on. What? No warnings for the fitness room? I have to get a doctor’s permission to start an exercise program but the dungeon is cool with you cycling and being paddled.
Our hostess at the dungeon was hot. But then, I like blondes who say they orgasm at every tattoo.
My final thought- The dungeon was really black.