Dazzling Doll

Dressing up is fun. Seriously prove me wrong, I dare you. I LOVE all types of dressing up. I like creating cute casual outfits for running errands, LOVE dresses and getting dolled up, and especially love lingerie. It has become a new obsession. Fresh wax and a lacy little number, unbeatable. I’m getting tingles just visualizing it. Might go put something on after I complete this… maybe create my next article in it. I also rediscovered how fun it is to play pretend and take on a new identity for a few hours. I was a bit of an acting nerd when I was little; I was damn good at it too. It’s fun to channel a different part of you and really embrace it to the fullest. There is also something cathartic about it; not caring what others think and losing yourself for a little bit but in a controlled way. I encourage you to give it a go, even if it is just in your living room.

Recently, I have been diving into this expansive kink community I unknowingly moved into. Seriously, everyone in this area dabbles in kink to some extent or another and is extraordinarily open about discussing it with you. It’s frickin’ awesome, finally my kind of people! No more closet freaks. I was talking with a partner about this yesterday; how people talk about being kinky when really, they don’t know much about it. It’s “uncool” to be vanilla; what a wonderfully pleasurable changing of the tides from my rural closet town. It’s an incredibly brilliant, accepting, open and honest community, and I am very excited to get to infiltrate it.

One part of this community is “Kink Clubs,” a member-only place where like-minded freaks can go and play in a well-stocked and safe environment. It is a warehouse turned into a dungeon that allows you access to close anything and everything you need to play freely. I want to be clear these are not swinger’s clubs or orgies. My friend and I were recently vetted and became members of one locally, primarily out of intrigue and curiosity. The main floor is called the “Play Floor,” and no sex is allowed there. There is a space upstairs where intercourse is permitted, but it is away from the central part of the club. You can go with a partner, find one there based on what you want to do, or just watch. Everyone is there for the same reason; respect and communication are vital components to making this space run safely.

Now you are probably like, what the heck is she talking about? Dress up and pretend in one paragraph and kink praising and clubs in the next; I think The Oyster has lost her pearls a bit (see what I did har har har). I probably have a little bit, but there is a connection here, which just makes me a giddy little thing! It’s two simple words: Doll Program. My gloriously amusing new hobby: being a dolly.

For the Doll Program, you start by picking a persona: coy, bratty, bondage, a jester, an animal, a piece of furniture, you name it, they will make it happen. They then have a room in the club called “The Dollhouse,” which is essentially a lingerie lover’s wet dream. I mean, seriously, anything you could ever imagine, plus some are in there. It’s amazing. As a doll, you have access to the outfits, and you and your handler (I will get to this) curate the persona of your choice with outfits, shoes, accessories, hair, and makeup. Transforming you into a life-size doll that you get to encompass for the evening.

Being a doll isn’t just dressing up, and playing pretends; there are strict rules here you need to follow. The main two being you cannot look at anyone in the eyes or talk to anyone but your handler. If you break these rules, you can be punished. While being a doll, you have a “handler,” think the child who plays with their toy. They move them around, have them do things, and dress them up. Every doll needs a handler. The handler is excellent because they are your protector for the evening, making sure you are safe. This person in charge gets to move you around and put you in various places throughout the club. Once placed, you can move around and be playful in the area if you don’t leave it and don’t break the rules. Pre-COVID dollies were the only ones in masks, indicating that they were dolls and giving an allure about them. Rona had to go and mess everything up, though. Everyone is masked, so the dolls don’t stand out as much. BOO.

A short time ago, I got to be a doll for the first time, and it was BEYOND entertaining; it is the perfect role for me. I am addicted. It feeds into all my personality vices. I am vain and love attention; it feels great to have people look at me but know they cannot talk to or touch me, just look. I get to be the dirty voyeur that I didn’t think I was and watch every scene going on around me. Quietly observe what I want to try in private with my partners while testing my self-control as horniness slowly builds inside me. I am protected and safe, with zero chance of any unwanted attention coming my way, so I can actually enjoy myself. It also allows me to shut the fuck up for a few hours. I am too chatty; I will talk your ear off if you let me. I am working on being a better listener, not interrupting, and not needing to always be the center of the conversation. This role tests all of that for me; it’s perfectly delightful.

I picked “coy” as my guise, shyness with the intent to be alluring. We dressed me up in a sexy but modest outfit of black and pink with beautiful black lace bunny ears, tall black heeled boots, long black gloves, and cutesy pink boy short panties. I wore a fabulous black leather mask with metal spikes, think punk/ metal jackets of the early 2000s. My handler first placed me up on the dancing platform on the club’s second level. From there, I was free to do what I pleased as long as I didn’t leave. So I danced and swung my legs off the ledge. I lifted my skirt up to flash my pantied ass to those that would look at me. I tried to be as adorable as possible, all while intensely watching someone whip and pour hot wax over their partner that was hog-tied to a bench. I was then moved into the 8-foot birdcage with a leather playground swing. My handler locked me in the cage while they pushed and spun me around. I would playfully swing from my enclosure, all while being mesmerized by the fire cupping on my left. A daddy was bullwhipping his little while she snuggled her stuffy to my right. Such a delight for my dirty curious mind.

This play party fell on one of the founder’s birthdays, which can only mean one thing in a kink club: birthday spankings. However, the Birthday Human did not get the spankings; their slaves did. Every person there was allowed to go up and lay a big old spank on each ass cheek of the two slaves. My handler took me out of the cage and let me go after them. This is where I fully embraced my “coyness.” I skipped up to the bench, all shy and nervous-like, and gave each of those cheeks a nice smack followed by a cute little jump. The crowd ate that shit up, and damn, it was fun. I was then told to sit cross-legged on the stage to watch the rest of the spankings. My handler gave me a Bo Peep cane that I twirled around and occasionally lightly hit someone with. When the spankings were complete, it was back into the cage for this delighted doll, my happy spot.

For the rest of the evening, I swung while watching my friend get tied up beautifully and suspended from this large metal structure in the middle of the play floor. The person tying them has been doing it for years, and it shows. Once they were up, they could flip acrobatically from their back to their stomach under beautiful colored stage lights. They were swung in a circle, and the whole thing looked like an incredible performance piece; I mean, it was one. I was captivated by the entire thing. Once they were done, a Dom bound their Sub to the structure in a star position. At the same time, their Dom pinched, whipped, smacked, and slapped them for all to watch. All the while, the night’s monitor circled around every scene to make sure everything was done safely. Towards the beginning of the exposed beating, I noticed the monitor quietly tap the dom and whisper something they must have overlooked. This is required at every party; checks and balances to ensure safety.

After two hours, I was free to continue watching, play or leave. By this point, my friend and I were exhausted, so we opted to head home. We both left buzzing, though. I quickly realized I had just unlocked one little box of my sexual identity: the Quiet Vain Voyeur. It’s wild learning something new about yourself and your sexual desires. That there can be many little boxes to open and unlock forever or open for a second and quickly shut, never be touched again. The more I explore, the more I piece together this identity that I was suddenly allowed to rediscover and recreate. The Oyster in all her glory is coming, and the world better watch the fuck out. Go doll out, everyone; it’s good for ya.