Leashed And Collared At Sex Camp

Here’s Trixie Delight on her first visit to one of those weekend orgy-getaway events:

IT’S A DARK THURSDAY NIGHT in northern Maryland, around 8 o’clock. I’m standing next to my car, and a man with a slight build has put me on a collar and leash, and he is telling me to take off my clothes.

This is our first meeting, and he looks like he does in his picture. Bald. Menacing.

A few weeks earlier, I had made contact with the bald man, whose name is Jefferson, through a dating site. He’s a blogger, sex educator, and orgy organizer. I asked him about the orgies and told him about my blog, Welfare MILF.

You should come to sex camp, he said.

What’s sex camp? I asked. Oh baby, was his reply.

When I looked at Dark Odyssey’s website the first time, I closed it, thinking, That looks interesting, but it’s not for me. The second time…well, maybe. Someday.

And the third time I signed up for camp.

I do not want to take my clothes off. I want to relax, vent, explore, have a smoke. I’m annoyed he’s asking me to do this straight away, before I’ve had a chance to get my bearings. It’s probably more fun for him this way, I’m sure.

In one of his blog posts, Jefferson had mentioned seeing a girl on a leash at camp and that this appealed to him. Intrigued, I offered to report to leash duty. Did you know that Bret Michaels designs a line for PetSmart? Bet you didn’t. Bret Michaels is looking for love on a leash, Jefferson quips.

I do not want to take my clothes off. But this is the game we’re playing, and Jefferson is not wavering. I take a deep breath and strip, throwing my discarded clothes into my car. I’m pissed, I’m uneasy, but I’m not scared.

“Good. I don’t want to see those clothes for the rest of the week. Give me your keys.”

Keys now too? I don’t know anyone here except for Jefferson, and this is the first time we’ve met. But I hand him my keys and he’s leading me by the leash through the parking lot. It’s clear and calm save for the screams from the nearby dungeon.

“You can talk,” he says. I shrug.

“Or not,” he says. “Suit yourself.”

We tramp down the grassy hillside. People regard us curiously but no one seems surprised to see a nude woman on a leash. Jefferson leads me up a short set of stairs to a series of attached cabins…

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