A Midsummer Night’s Dream
“Are you sure that we are awake? It seems to me that yet we sleep, we dream.”
I approached Geddes Lane with apprehension. Sweat was beading down my forehead and I was not sure if it was from walking too briskly, or from the unforgivingly tight latex suit that cladded me under my street clothes.
Distracting as the ceaseless touch of my second skin was, she had still somehow found her way to the back of my mind as the laneway came into view. Three bouncers in black stood together sharing a cigarette. Not one of them noticed me and yet in a sudden panic I skipped a step and almost jogged across the alley's entrance.
Hiding behind the wall and out of sight, I rolled a cigarette with shaky hands and urged myself to calm down. Tobacco proved once again to be the better relaxant and as I leaned against the wall trying to find my lost composure, my rubber skin resurfaced to the top of my mind.
It was the first time since I got the suit a few weeks ago that I was wearing latex outside of the safety and privacy of my own bedroom. And yet, here we were, diving straight into the deep end - a timid, Asian kid shaking just around the corner of a BDSM party.
Even looking back I'm not entirely sure if the club was called Provocation, or the event was called Provocation. I just know that this particular one was themed A Midsumma Night's Dream.
Despite my years spent studying literature and Shakespeare, I had the nagging feeling that the event wouldn't quite be dressed up in that way.
A couple walked past in all black, but the street was simply too dark to make out their clothing. A lady in a leather jacket went by and I wondered if they too were here for the same event.
Before too long, I'd reached the bottom of my cigarette and thus, out of excuses. The tobacco had stopped the shakes and I was as ready as I'd ever be. I flexed my shoulders, reminding myself that my latex had adhered tightly to my body, and strode into the alley.
---
---
"Provocation?"
I stared at him, mouth agape.
"Uh, yeah... Is it uh... Is this for Provocation? I mean uh... do I pay here?"
"Head on in and up the stairs, someone will be there to help you out. Enjoy!"
It’s probably a mark of my lack of experience in the city’s night scene but the bouncer's friendliness caught me off guard... in a good way. I ambled up what felt like a million flights of stairs, guided by the slow, echoing crescendo of electronic music.
Once at the top, I was greeted by a table where sat, I assumed, the hosts of the evening. Having stepped in at 2130 sharp, the stated commencement of the event, the venue was nearly completely empty. Which was just as well. Better to be eased into it all then to be thrown into the thick of it.
I awkwardly introduced myself to the door staff, entrance fee of $25 prepared in advance and clenched tightly in my fist inside my jeans’ pocket. I’d already decided that it was best to be honest and explained that it was my first time attending an event like this, and that I was somewhat nervous. My suit had once again retreated to the back of my mind, a feeling that I’d still not quite gotten used to.
A tall man with a hat and an eye patch introduced himself to me as either “Snape” or “Snake”. I couldn’t quite hear him over the thumping of the music and I was too timid to ask for clarification. I hoped that if I couldn’t hear the difference, maybe he couldn’t, either.
He brought me around the venue, which, I admit, was smaller than expected. I’d my fingers crossed that there’d be a vacbed but hadn’t dared to hope. Even then, I couldn’t help but feel the tiniest sliver of disappointment when I couldn’t find one.
As he walked me through the various toys and “stations”, explaining needle- and electro-play, I began to feel increasingly out-of-my-element. My experience, knowledge and fantasies had always been about latex and encasement. I was very naïve to the real world of BDSM and sensation play. Looking around, I noticed that the few patrons that were already around were clad not in latex or rubber but leather or cloth.
A layer of slippery sweat had formed between the rubber and my skin, though admittedly, it was probably more because I still had my jacket on over my latex and it was very warm in the club. The effect was the same – Snape/Snake’s tour became harder to focus on as the latex grew more fluid around my form.
As soon as Snape/Snake had finished his tour, I had my coat checked and bundled into the smoking area to have another cigarette. He had told me that there would definitely be latex/rubberists coming in later tonight and that I should definitely say “hi” to them, reassuring me that they would be a friendly group. I did not doubt him nor their friendliness but I sadly doubted my own confidence to approach anyone.
Nevertheless, I decided that I was already immersed in the proverbial water (and sweat) and that I owed it to myself to see the night through and make something of it. I mean, look at me. I’m wearing a latex catsuit in public! I’m not even hiding it under a long-sleeved blouse, I was wearing a plain cotton T-shirt. The collar was peeking out and the long-sleeves were shiny and attention-seeking.
Taking a deep breath, I stubbed out my cigarette and stepped back into the club.
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A Toe in the Water
---
The club was still quite empty and so I found myself a corner to sit in to wait for the venue to fill. It was a corner table on a raised platform. The emergency exit of the venue was just behind a parapet, in an unlit corner of the room. I ordered a drink out of awkwardness – a gin and tonic, Gordon’s and soda gun.
As I sat there sipping my drink worrying about the act of putting liquid into my body, considering my suit’s complete lack of zippers, I’d failed to notice a group of people who’d shimmied into the corner beyond the parapet.
“Nice Catsuit!”
If I had a shell I’d have retracted my head and limbs at that instant. But I hadn’t, and so I did the next best thing – I turned around with, in hindsight, the most awkward smile I could muster. Even then, my gratitude was genuine.
“T-thanks! It’s uh, Fantastic Rubber,”
I shared with pride.
The man introduced himself to me as Art, and with some relief I realized that I was no longer the only rubberist on site. His group had gathered in the corner to change out of their street clothes into something more natural, and I took the opportunity to make awkward but sincere banter about latex and preferred lubes.
“You know, you should take off your jeans, and your shirt too.”
“I should?”
“Yeah, it’s warm in here. Besides, they have a no-denim thing in here.”
Here come the shakes again.
“I think I might need another drink before I can do that.”
I sat there for the longest time locked in an internal debate about how best to proceed. I guess some part of me was already sure that I was going to take everything off, but another part of me wanted to wait a bit longer. For what, I did not know. It just urged me to “Wait,” and just “think about this for a bit.”
But what’s there to think about?
After who-knows-how-long, I made my way to the bar and got then downed a shot of tequila. As the alcohol took its effect on me (which I was later told wasn’t the wisest thing to do), I made my way into the corner and pulled off my shirt. After a brief moment of apprehension, I wriggled out of my jeans and rolled my clothes up, packing them tightly into my repurposed camera bag.
Clad in nothing now but my smooth, zipless rubber suit and my sneakers, I peeked out of the corner. My thoughts were a complete blank and my eyes weren’t registering anything. I retreated back into the corner and checked myself – for what, I did not know. My mind was completely overwhelmed.
Another cigarette.
I grabbed my gear and half-marched to the smoking area yet again.
---
The Girl in the Floral Dress
---
I sat there, sitting quite awkwardly as my body slid around inside the suit, which I had very liberally lubed up when getting into. About two or three drags in, a girl in a pretty floral dress stepped in and sat next to me for the briefest moment. She made a faltering eye contact with me for just a moment before speaking.
“I’m sorry, I just have to say. I really love your catsuit.”
I looked up and toward a friendly, pleasant girl with longish blonde hair. A sudden surge of confidence seemed to manifest itself inside me and I was sure it was because of her words, not my cigarette.
I thanked her sincerely, and felt myself loosen up, even if the rubber around me did not. We chatted briefly about latex before talking about her tattoo of Eevee and its evolutions, and somehow the conversation took off into a world I was familiar with – Skyrim, gaming and Adventure Time.
The urge to stay and continue the conversation was strong, but I’d finished my cigarette and decided that I would seek her out again later for another chat once I had a better feel for the scene.
And so I returned to the club.
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The Girl in the Rope
---
The venue had filled quite a bit in my absence and as soon as I stepped in I was called to by a table just beside me. A group of people in regular clothes greeted me and complimented me on my suit. It was like a warming fire had lit inside me and I had the biggest grin of relief and enjoyment on my face. The details of the conservation were lost to the sheer emotional rush of the moment, until they asked to touch the latex.
A firm believer in sharing the joys and wonders of latex, I obliged, forgetting that every inch of her was very tightly affixed to my body. But I’d already given my word and I offered an arm. For the first time in my life, hands other than my own came into contact with my second skin and I had simply not expected it to feel as good as it did. I believe I did a stellar job of containing myself; though I’m not sure how others might judge that.
I shared with pride the details about my suit. Being a Fantastic Rubber suit devoid of zippers, the first question they all had was how I got into it and how I’d get out later. The process was part of the allure of latex to me and I took great pleasure and pride in explaining that I had to climb in through the neck, and made an awkward joke about not being able to get out again. (“Who says I have to take it off?”)
Nonetheless as I sensed the conversation beginning to lull I bowed out and continued exploring the floor.
I wandered aimlessly for a moment, keeping an eye out for anyone else wearing latex. Art and his group were still in the corner, the man himself still undecided as to whether or not to change considering the heat in the venue. His friend, whose name eludes me, was already clad in a set of latex leggings and zip-up shirt, and was adjusting a cat-ear headband. I chose not to bother them and instead turned my attention to the stage.
A petite Asian lady, dressed in what I thought was a short kimono-styled dress, was standing underneath the suspension set, and a lady in black was whispering in her ear. I watched as her words seemed to melt the girl, and as she squirmed about underneath as her partner began to bind her in ropes in a pattern I’d recognized as Shibari.
I watched entranced as her body was slowly bound. Her socked feet were turned inwards as her toes curled and uncurled. Her face was an image of bliss, and her arms were tied tightly behind her back. She was slowly and sensually hoisted, and I found myself marveling at the aesthetic beauty of the scene – her cream and salmon dress, loose and flowing, contrasted sensually with the restrictive bondage that held her; the ropes suspended her body into a graceful posture, as if frozen mid-dance.
Her partner began to tease her between the legs with her crop and I was overcome by a compulsion to look away – a result of my conservative upbringing. But a quick glance around showed me that a good portion of the event’s attendees were watching in quiet rapture, and I decided that perhaps here it was okay to watch.
Now suspended fully, the lady’s partner was whispering into her ear, and each word seemed to make her writhe about in her bondage. Despite having no experience with rope-play or Shibari, something about the scene spoke to me on some subconscious level and I resolved to introduce myself at some point in the night.
My attention was interrupted when a shiny, black silhouette sauntered past me and toward Arkie’s corner. I looked in the direction and saw the only other person in the room in a catsuit. I made my way to say hi but halfway there I saw her pulling on a gasmask. I was extremely intrigued, but wasn’t sure if she could talk through that over the loud thumping music of the club. I did not want to overstep any unwritten rules and so settled on introducing myself, and making just the briefest small talk about latex suits and ducked out.
---
The Girl in the Cage
---
Feeling a bit dejected, I slid over to a spot by the bar, and watched a couple inspecting a small cage by the side of the stage. The man was wearing a hat, t-shirt and some colorful suspenders, whilst the girl was clad in nothing but a set of latex panties and a black latex blindfold. Curiosity locked my gaze onto them as she stepped into the cage and the man began to secure her arms to the bars with cuffs and cable tie.
The cage was locked closed and my eyes were transfixed on the scene as the girl’s breathing began to quicken. She was being left alone for the longest time but it seemed to me like part of the game. Two men I did not recognize stopped as they passed her and began reaching in, sliding their hands across her body. Another lady joined them and began to tease her gently with a riding crop.
In hindsight, I think the people playing with her were familiar with her in some way, but at the time I found myself thinking that she’d been locked up for just anyone to play with. The thought stirred me up inside and some part of me decided that I would not leave tonight without getting locked in just like she was.
As people came, played, and moved on, she continued to occupy the cage, mouth slightly agape, her naked bosom rising and falling. I began to imagine myself in her position, deprived of my sense of sight and my ability to move, phantom hands reaching in to touch my unnatural, oily skin…
Some unexplained leap of logic told me it was time yet again, for another cigarette.
I stepped into the smoking area once again and found with some pleasure that the girl in the floral dress was there too. We spoke briefly and made small conversation about each other’s evenings before I expressed my interest in trying out the cage. She shared her own story about how many times she’d had to come to events like these before she’d worked up the courage to try something like that. Somehow it felt comforting to just talk about it, and at some point in our conversation I decided surely that I was going to try it.
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My Initiation
---
I’d asked around the club a little about finding the “person to speak to about being put in the cage”, and then learned that there wasn’t a designated “person” for each station, and instead the toys and sets were free for patrons to use with their groups or partners.
Before disappointment could set in, Snape/Snake happened past me and checked in on how my evening was going, and I expressed an interest about trying out the cage, but also admitted that it might be something I’d have to try next time when I’d gotten to know more people.
But then he surprised me, and told me to wait around, because he might know a domme who would be happy to tie me up inside. My heart fluttered – I’d never had a domme, and I had never really thought about being a sub. Or even whether that kind of play immediately meant that I would just automagically become someone’s sub…
I was lost in my own internal panic and questioning for a moment before Snape/Snake returned. He introduced me to Sandra, Cathy, and Ringo. I didn’t quite understand their dynamic – it seemed that Sandra and Cathy were Ringo’s dommes, but at the same time Ringo… flogged the other two? I was quite confused, and the only thing I knew for certain was that I still had heaps to learn.
My experience in things of this color had only been limited to fantasy and fiction found online, and I was genuinely worried that being introduced to a domme meant that I had to roleplay my part as a… sub? I honestly had no idea and I was scared shitless.
But as we started talking, my new acquaintances turned out to be real and good human beings, and they were genuinely friendly and patient in explaining to me the nuances of what was going on and what was about to happen. Though, admittedly, a lot of it went over my head, at the time. I’m sure that in due time all this would come naturally to me.
Hindsight is 20/20 and I feel terrible for assuming all these things about interactions of this kind, but I take comfort in knowing that I know better now, and will continue to learn in time to come.
“Well, are you ready?”
Ringo had a metal briefcase in hand, acquired from somewhere I did not see.
“I think so. Well, ready as I’ll ever be.”
My heart hammered against my chest within my latex. I couldn’t believe I was doing this, and even now thinking back, I wouldn’t believe that the normally timid, socially-impaired person I knew myself to be could have done that. But there was something about the latex suit that made me into a different person.
I think that a lot of my introversion in my daily life comes from this internal shame and secrecy around my secret kinks and fetishes. There’s something liberating and empowering about having that shame cast aside and accepted. Wearing latex proudly and in public, it gives me a confidence that I’d never otherwise find within me. It lets me be who I truly am, and that’s a feeling that I’ve never experienced before, and I will not soon forget.
As my wrists were expertly bound to the cage’s bars with sturdy-yet-soft nylon rope, the girl with the floral dress appeared before me. Even though I knew I was in far too deep to back out, something about her smile put me at ease. I’d have been usually too timid to ask, but having my arms bound, I found myself without any other option and asked if she could use my shirt, in my bag, to blindfold me.
There was some innate beauty to the ropes that bound me, but my appreciation of it was cut short as the girl stepped forward to remove my glasses. With an encouraging smile, she plunged my world into darkness.
---
Within the Cage
---
As the world around me disappeared, my thoughts turned away from the hustle of activity and distracting outfits in the venue. Instead I found my focus readjusting itself to the latex that cladded my body. Robbed of my sight, there was no way for me to ignore the airtight skin that sheathed me.
The cheap lube I’d used had already begun to wear off somehow and the activity of the night had forced most of the air out of my suit whilst I was distracted by the venue. With nothing now to focus on, I became extremely aware of how perfectly tight my second skin now was. As I exhaled and sucked in my tummy, so too did my latex, shrinking around me as I did so. She’d had such a perfect seal that even my navel was clearly visible, and I could feel the rubber sliding sensually between my legs.
I tested my bonds and realized that for the first time in my life, I was completely bound and helpless. My life was now in the hands of another and though I expected to feel fear, I instead felt… liberated. It was as if I could suddenly do anything and trust in the people around me to reign me in should I transgress some unknown boundary.
Then the hands reached in.
Ice. Like jolts of electricity, cold fingers ran their way up and down my arms, and I could feel my breathing begin to quicken. I was struck by a naïve surge of “if I can’t see them, they can’t see me” and finally allowed myself to let go and enjoy the moment.
My mouth hung agape as more hands seemed to reach in and touch me. They ran their way up and down my latex and the sensation seemed to echo across my skin, once from the touch of their hands and again from the touch of the rubber. A light dragging of fingers across my body sent pleasurable shivers into my core, and I was only vaguely aware of my body’s dance against its bonds.
I took pleasure in the feeling that there was no way out of my rubber, but despite the inherent danger of my situation I felt safe and looked after. I could feel hands touching my own – Ringo checking to make sure that my circulation was still well and fine. Periodically, an unknown hand would tease my lips before feeding me a cold, lemon-scented piece of crushed ice, I assumed to keep me cool and at least a little bit hydrated. I thought perhaps it served the double-purpose of making sure that I was still conscious. About halfway through I was given a straw to take a drink of cold water.
“Do you want to stay in a little longer or should I start letting you out?”
Oh I could stay in here the whole night.
“I’d… like to stay a little longer if that’s okay.”
“Okay, then.”
A laugh, “if you could only see the grins around you right now.”
I had to smile myself. Surely, that could only be a good thing. Sadly, the loud music and a mild anxiety of the moment overwhelmed me, and my usual fantasies remained dormant in the back of my head.
More hands reached in, too many for me to be sure how many people were around me. My legs twitched as one explored my latex calves and thighs and my breathing quickened as another’s arm tightly compressed my chest. Another was playing with my arms and I couldn’t help but reach out and touch her arm as well, a part of me wondering if she would perhaps punish that forwardness.
Someone got behind me and started to reach around to caress my body from behind, whispering things in my ear that made me melt inside. I could have sworn that my suit was shrinking around me somehow as more hands began to find their way down my navel and up my thighs.
Behind the blindfold and packed away in impenetrable black latex, I was free. There was nothing but me, my catsuit, the ropes and cage, and the hands. Time ceased to mean anything, and something I’ve yet to understand about myself changed in the experience – for the better.
But as my own hands inevitably grew colder and clammier, the time still came for me to be released from my bondage. My breathing was heavy but happy, and though I found myself wanting more, I did not want to overstep my bounds. I felt genuine appreciation that these people I’d just met would take the time to introduce me to this wonderful world.
The rest of the night was a blur to me as I stepped myself down from my high. As soon as I was able to, I started scouring the venue for the girl in the floral dress – for some reason I didn’t understand, I wanted so much to share with her my experience, but she’d somehow disappeared. I asked around the club briefly but no one seemed to have seen her.
I guess a part of me hoped that one of the hands in the cage had belonged to her.
But then a person who’d come by to bid me farewell mentioned that he’d just seen her leave the venue. I felt bad just running off after having met such a wonderful group of people, but I wanted to try to catch up with her, and so I said goodbye to my new acquaintances, exchanged FetLife details, and hurried out.
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The Comedown
---
The wind had picked up in the four hours I’d been inside, and the temperature had plunged since, which was fine and dandy now that I was back in my street clothes over my suit.
But once the cold hit and I stepped out into the strange, sobering silence of the city, I realized how silly I’d been in hoping that I could still bump into her outside the club. Just seeking out and bidding adieu to everyone else in the club must have taken me at least fifteen minutes, and I’d still had to get dressed and retrieve my coat.
I briefly considered heading back into the club, but I’d stepped out on a high note, and now that I’d tried what I said I would do before leaving, I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I went back in again. I didn’t know nearly enough about the scene to hold a conversation with anybody for long.
And so my suit and I began the walk home, knowing with certainty, however, that we’d just entered a whole new world that was waiting to be explored… but then again, who knows, perhaps it was all just a vivid mid-summer night’s dream.
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