An All-Nighter at the New York Bondage Club

New York, November 1997

I was fantasizing about tying up guys before I even knew about sex.

Maybe it's the sense of power and control.

Or the extra bulge in his muscles -- and other parts -- as he struggles to "escape."

Or just the spectacle of his entire body spread out before you like a vast unknown continent, waiting to be explored.

So the moment I arrived in New York in 1997,  I joined the NYC Bondage Club,  It met from 8-11 pm on Sunday nights in the basement of a nondescript building in Chelsea, about 10 blocks from Penn Station.

There were three rooms with bondage beds, slings, a St. Andrew's Cross, and jail cells.  Snacks and sodas were provided; you had to bring your own ropes and bondage equipment.  30-50 guys came, mostly middle aged and older, a lot of chubbies and bears, not many twinks.

Most activity considered of ordinary bondage, teasing, and tickling, but there were also guys into heavy BDSM scenes: flogging, whipping, hot wax, electroshock, mummification, water sports, fisting.

But no "vanilla" sex.  By New York law, no oral or anal contact was permitted.

Which many of the guys didn't mind: BDSM scenes were the pinnacle of their erotic experience.  But I would have preferred some body contact.

There was a lot of hooking up after the Bondage Club ended, but I had a problem:  if I stayed overnight in the City, I would have to be up at 5:00 am to catch the 6:00 am train to Long Island for class.

And if I invited someone back to my place on Long Island,  they would have the same problem.

Besides, Chelsea was as provincial as West Hollywood.  If you didn't live in a gay neighborhood, they didn't want to know you.

I would never admit that I didn't live in Manhattan.

So I made do with standard vanilla bondage scenes, tying up guys and fondling them, and then rushing out into the night at 9:45 like Cinderella about to turn into a pumpkin.

Until Dustin invited me home.

He was by far the most attractive of the Bondage Club regulars, a dark-haired, dark-eyed twink with a wide smile and a ready laugh, plus a smooth, hard chest, baseball-biceps, and turtle-shell abs.  He liked moderate scenes, with no pain, just tickling, fondling, edging, and kissing.

"I also like oral and anal sex while I'm tied up," he said, "But of course we can't do that here."

Dustin bottomed for at least two guys per night.  They inevitably asked him back to their place afterwards, but he refused: "I have to get up early for class."

I never topped him, although I tried to join in with his scenes with others.  He was too experienced, exploring subtle nuances of BDSM practice.  My basic interests would be too elementary, kindergarten-ish, inept.

But one night I found him relaxing between scenes, sitting naked on a red couch, drinking a soda.  We started chatting, and then we started kissing  Before I knew it, we had been lying on the couch, kissing and fondling, for almost an hour.

"Why don't we go back to my place?" he murmured.

"Well -- I have to catch the 6:00 am train from Penn Station."

"No problem, I live just a few blocks from a Metro Line that goes directly to Penn.  You'll have plenty of time."

Ok, I was new to New York, I didn't know what a Metro Line was.  I assumed a subway somewhere in the Village.

We left the Bondage Club at 9:30, and arrived at Penn just in time to miss the 9:45 Metro Line.  The next one was at 11:45!

But there were no other trains to Long Island until 6:00 am.  I was in Manhattan for the night.

Back to the Bondage Club, then to a pizza-by-the-slice place.  Then to Penn, where we caught an 11:45 Metro Line that listed cities I had never heard of: Mahwah, Ho-Ho-Kus, Warwick.

"Wait -- don't you live in Manhattan?" I asked.

"Well -- no, not actually," Dustin admitted.  "But you know how guys in gay neighborhoods are.  I didn't want to turn you off.  And it's not far, believe me.  You'll have plenty of time to catch your train at Penn tomorrow."


On the way, Dustin told me that he was studying biology at Fairleigh Dickinson University, planning to become a doctor.  He had always known he was gay, and had his first bondage scene at age 14.

An hour later, at 12:45 am, we arrived in Allentown, New Jersey, about 20 miles away.  Then Dustin drove us about three miles past something called a Celery Farm, to a very large suburban house.

"You live here?"  What college student could afford such a place? My heart sank.  "You don't live with your parents, do you?"

"This is my boyfriend's house.  I actually live in the dorms, but I stay with him on weekends."

Boyfriend?

"Um...do you think that, anytime during the last three hours, you might have mentioned the boyfriend waiting at home?"

"Didn't I mention him?  Sorry -- I guess I assumed everybody knew.  He comes to the Bondage Club all the time.  Except tonight he was too tired.  He said I could bring home someone to share, though."

Back in West Hollywood, Lane and I would often bring home a third person to share.  Becoming that third person was quite a different matter, though. Especially at 1:00 am.

The boyfriend, Stan, was up, watching David Letterman or some such talk show: a middle aged muscle bear, bald, bearded, hirsute, obviously a gym rat.  He enveloped us both in bear hugs, and then dragged us into the kitchen to eat egg salad sandwiches and brownies and drink coffee.  I wasn't at all hungry, but ok....

"So, are we up for vanilla or a BDSM scene this evening?" Stan asked.

It was 2:00 am.  I had to be up in 3 hours.  I just wanted to go to bed.  "How about some plain old kissing and cuddling?" I suggested.

"Oh, we can do better than that!" Dustin exclaimed.  "There's a fully-stocked dungeon in the basement.  You can double team me.  Or you can top us both -- Stan is versatile."

"How about a POW scene?" Stan said.

"Or an incest scene?" Dustin suggested.  "You know, where you humiliate the father by forcing him to have sex with his son?  We just need to set up the roles."

So we set up the roles and the dungeon.  Fueled by caffeine from the coffee and sugar from the brownies, I tied them up, "forced" them to kiss, and then "forced" Stan to top Dustin.  I was too tired to do any vanilla sex of my own.

By the time the scene ended, it was 4:00 am.  "You know what?" I said.  "I'm skipping class tomorrow...um...I mean today.  Let's just go to bed!"


"Um..well, I have to go to work," Stan said.  "And Dustin has to get back to campus.  But we can all go out for a nice breakfast before you catch your train."

We grabbed some pancakes at an all-night diner -- our third meal in six hours!  -- and they put me on the 5:15 am train to Penn Station.

Which arrived just as the train to Long Island was leaving.  I didn't make it home until noon.

See also: My First Indian Sausage Sighting and BDSM Scene; a Hookup with Barry and the Poz Boy.