Now, I have a confession to make. Despite fifteen years of pretty active spanking experience, the whole ‘fetish club’ scene had totally passed me by. Other friends go regularly – Sweet Torments, Subversion, Torture Garden, many more. But me? Well, I’ve never even been to a vanilla nightclub – unless you count one tame evening in rural France aged 16. (Loud noise? Huge groups of strangers? Scary stuff…)

I made up for that on Saturday night, dipping my toe in the water at Exodus in Birmingham, thanks to two dear friends who enticed a group of us along. (Actually, the evening did start with me literally dipping my toe in water, following signs for the dark, slightly flooded cellar – which could so have been interesting if lit slightly better). The club featured perhaps half-a-dozen themed rooms (and let’s move quickly past the medical ones, folks, before Abel faints!), each with an array of St Andrews crosses and spanking benches.

We weren’t there long: just over ninety minutes, before we had to drive back home due to Emma Jane’s work plans for the following day. And that was rather a shame. I’d been very nervous in advance, not knowing entirely what to expect – and not feeling in the least self-confident or toppish after the drive to the club. But an initial round in the chill-out area of marking the thighs of each of the four girls in the group with my initials (engraved on the tip of my riding crop) relaxed me – not surprisingly! (The idea of ‘branding’ the girls in our party really was so hot!)

Before long, EJ was being led off to play by a friend, and the rest of us followed to the room. Two lovely little scenes ensued: jointly with another gentleman flogging one young lady, as she was strapped down over a bench – all the time, reminding her that she was being watched by strangers through the glass windows from the club’s main corridor, and all the time conscious of EJ being whipped in the background. ,Inviting another girl from our group over to touch her. And then tying said other girl tightly over a different bench, spanking her hard before giving her six with my XH tawse and six of the best with the cane.

By this point, I was beginning to relax, but we’d agreed in advance that 11pm was our cut-off time for leaving, and we’d reached said hour – so sadly there was no time to make the most of the evening, or to play more with the other friend in the group (or with Emma Jane herself, who by this point looked too played-out in any case from her long scene for me to suggest anything other than a bottle of coke and the motorway home!).

Did I enjoy it? Yes, of course: who wouldn’t love abusing such fabulous play partners over such great equipment? And I doubt I would be so nervous or insecure beforehand were I to go again. But I’d need to process the best play style: in both scenes, I’d have loved it if touching could have led onto other things, but that wasn’t on the cards in this venue, yet I didn’t feel quite able to get into a roleplaying headspace. And I’d want more time, to relax, and to play some more, including with all of the lovely friends in our group, and perhaps to watch other goings-on. But I’m certainly glad to have tried it!