I’m furious and without answers.

Posted by Jaki in The Opposite of Advice.

It started as a normal party, or I should say, what constitutes “normal” at a BDSM club. There was good music. Everyone was friendly. There was lots of PVC fetish wear. The sights are half the reason I go. I’ve always been a voyeur but it’s not even the naked people hitting and clawing at each other. I go for the atmosphere. I saw some familiar faces and I made my rounds. I usually start the night in fairly vanilla clothing but it doesn’t take long to get into the mood if the crowd is right. I had my cock with me. I’m always pretty popular when I bring it along. Nothing starts a conversation quite like a big black cock. I don’t even play much at the parties. I like to people watch because there are so many different types of people in one room. It’s fascinating, really. I feel comfortable being in public with people who don’t find my fetish weird. It’s just nice not to be the odd one because it’s like someone collected all the odd ones and put them in one place. Even when we don’t like the same things, there is this wonderful camaraderie, this sense of community. It’s palpable. It’s always worth it to me.

Around 1 am, the police showed up. I’m not sure the official reason but the front doors were thrown open wide and everyone in the place froze. Sometimes I feel like a strong woman, secure in her sexuality. Usually, I love my naked body and I appreciate the way it’s not picture perfect. But at that moment, I felt like a scared naked fat girl wearing a fake cock. They took that from me. They fucking took my confidence. I felt violated. It was a total contrast from seconds earlier when I felt warm and at home. Then one of them became taking photos. Quickly, things took a turn for the worse. Each time they flashed those cameras into the crowd and people began to panic and hide their faces. I looked over and saw Stacy*. She was a transwoman I had spend part of the evening speaking about where to find cute fetish shoes. She confined that she doesn’t get a chance to be Stacy very often. Most of the time, she’s Steve. She used these parties as her chance to be open and comfortable with herself in the body that she’d worked at creating. Now she was in the corner huddled away, trying to blend into the wall. I saw one of the submissives running to find his Mistress. One of the guys who had been sitting by the door giving foot rubs suddenly disappeared. I knew why. He’d been talking earlier about the fact that he’s a lawyer and how his partners at his firm wouldn’t know he’s a submissive by how he handles his cases. Now, he had to duck away and hope to find his way out. After all, he might even know those cops. I saw this in a matter of moments before I ducked into the bathroom only to find two other ladies in there already hiding out.

“I can’t have pictures taken of me,” She shook her head angrily. “I have kids!” The other woman explained, “I know my sub is looking for me and I can’t even go out there to find him. I feel horrible.” I was still naked and suddenly feeling very silly and afraid. The three of us huddled there, shaking our heads and wondering when we’d know if it was safe to exit. I just kept thinking, “I want my clothes. I just want them to let me have my clothes.” Finally, I decided I wasn’t going to hide in that bathroom anymore. I took my strap off and I walked out, naked, into the room. There were about three cops inside who were walking around asking people to leave. There were more officers outside who seemed to be laughing it up in the mist of all the confusion.  I squeezed past and went upstairs to dress quickly. I was lucky. Apparently, if you weren’t wearing something provocative, they were making you leave. There was another transwoman who wanted to change out of her outfit into more neutral clothing before riding the metro. They made her leave. I saw her walking down the street in a PVC maid outfit. I hope she made it home safely. On the way out, I brushed against one of the cops on accident and she recoiled from me like my skin was acid. I hated her. I hated her because she made me look at myself like she looked at me. I saw myself through her eyes. Some fucking dirty sex freak who almost touched her. Now, I feel exposed. And where are those pictures going?  I doubt that was for official business.  Are those police officers getting a good laugh at this? And when they pass them around at the precinct we’ll become that bitch with the fake dick or some guy in a dress. I was thinking so hard I almost I walked past my metro stop.

I’m the person you’re being protected from and for that I feel ashamed. I’m not ashamed of what I do or what I wear. I’m not ashamed about my body or who I make love to. I’m fucking ashamed that I live where the law can be twisted to suit the whims of whatever the moral majority dictates. I’m fucking ashamed that a woman with a cock is so motherfucking threatening, be it me with my cock or Stacy or whoever else.  It’s not even just about me.  Shouldn’t someone be serving and protecting me from the real perverts?  I guess I am also ashamed that all my so-called pride boiled down to hiding away. Ashamed because I feel like I failed a test. Like I was given an opportunity to stand up and be unabashed, brazen and defiant instead of terrified. Ashamed of the beautiful fucked up journey that actually is funny when you think about how the end result must look to anyone but me. All that and more in those few minutes that door was open.

* Names changed.

The Opposite of Advice |