Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Several months ago, I went out to a wonderful event. It was at a local private theatre, where risqué productions involving drag queens and nudity take place (not to mention great acting and some of the best shows I’ve ever seen) – and which is so kink-friendly that the intermission for one show is one of the cast (a rather hot girl!) calling people up on stage for spankings.
[UPDATE: read Mija's brilliant post on drink doping!]

My Master and I went with our friend, Miss Maggie Mayhem, who was delightedly introducing us to this world. We also bumped into a number of other friends while we were there, who were sitting around us. It was like being at a private party: a mix of good friends and exciting new people, only there was entertainment as well!

My Master and I got our drinks, some red wine, and settled down to watch the show. At the intermission, I went to the ladies’ room, and my Master refilled our drinks and then chatted with friends. Our drinks were left unattended for a few moments, but no one thought anything of it, because we were in a theatre, surrounded by “family” – friends, kink-friendly people, performers, etc.

The second act started up, and at some point, things changed from “really good” to “wow, man, this is incredible!” I probably should have noticed that I was way too happy for two and a half glasses of wine, but it was a joyous night – the show was followed by a “Blue Hour” where the performers did performances of their choosing, and Maggie performed (she was wonderful, and I’m not just saying that!) and then I got to congratulate her by making out with her very enthusiastically. I thought I was just tipsy and very happy.

We had a bit of a walk to find a cab, and when we got in the cab, suddenly all was not well, at all…. I held on until we got home, teeth gritted … and then spent the rest of the night throwing up and watching the room spin, and odd things happening at the edge of my vision. I really wanted to die, for it just to be all over, I felt so bad.

As I hugged the cold porcelain of the toilet, in between bouts of nausea I had time to contemplate what had befallen me. “I can’t have gotten this drunk on 2.5 glasses of wine,” I thought to myself. I’m aware I’m lightweight when it comes to drinking, but no one could get that drunk on so little alcohol. (I had been about that sick once before when drinking … and the next day I discovered that I’d drunk two whole bottles of champagne. That, while not enjoyable, was reasonable. This was not.) As the hours passed, I wondered what drug could be lasting this long. “I feel like I was poisoned!” I thought to myself, although I was perhaps a little histrionic because of the drugs floating through my system….

Then I remembered when my little sister did some bad acid, many years ago. I was called home by my parents to care for her (they not knowing what to do about “That LSD”), and did so until she finally came down and was able to fall asleep, at 7AM. I remembered her throwing up, and having to clean her up and care for her. “Poisoned…” I mused, groggily, “Oh, I’m having a bad trip on bad acid. Fuck.”

I myself finally came down, around 8AM, and was able to pass out in an exhausted stupor, thankful for the lack of consciousness after that ordeal.

I called Maggie the next day and told her what happened. Oh, was she pissed that someone had done this to me! She basically became an angry (but very hot!) Sherlock Holmes, and within a few weeks had figured out who had done it to me – it seems a fellow, known to some of the people there that night, had been wandering around telling everyone that he had lots of acid, would they like some…?

I don’t assume I was dosed maliciously. I think perhaps the person’s judgment was, um, impaired, and perhaps he thought he was giving me a lovely gift. (The unforgiving part of me does hope that he was at least as sick as I was, that evening. But I had never done acid before – and never will again, I assure you! – so probably he was used to that sort of thing and thus probably not as miserable as me, sadly.)

But what was great about all of this was how Maggie, and then the lovely people of the theatre (who sent me their apologies and best wishes, and helped Maggie’s investigations), and all my friends, rallied around me and supported me after it was over.

Because dosing, or spiking someone’s drink, is a violation. It is doing something to someone against their will. (And it is illegal, for that reason, I add.) If my Master had not been there with me, I might not have gone home right away, and I could have wandered off, and I certainly was in no space to say no to anyone, or to stop anyone from doing anything to me. And, safe as I was with my Master, the next day I might have really suffered from the emotional aspects of being violated in such a way – except that my friends supported me so incredibly.

I went back to that theatre a couple weeks ago, for another play. I was welcomed warmly, and I knew people were watching out for me. One of the cast actually brought me wine himself. (And having a sexy man deliver you wine with a wink and smile is never a bad thing!) I enjoyed the show very much, and felt as safe as could be.

Although I will never drink a drink I walked away from ever again. This may not have been a terrible experience, but it wasn’t a good experience, either.

I write this post now because two people (a friend of mine and also her companion of the evening) have been dosed, at a private spanking party that was supposed to be a safe space. But her experience was nothing like mine. The “leaders” of the event, instead of acting like the wonderful owners of the venue where I was dosed, have decided to not only deny this girl’s experience, but to attack, discredit and vilify her. This is supposed to be a social, recreational group which supports its members – the point of these groups is to provide protection, a safe space for people to meet like-minded people and have good experiences. It is shocking, and utterly reprehensible, that a woman could be dosed and then treated with such disrespect, disregard and what might even be seen as malice. It’s a clear-cut situation of “blaming the victim”. And the drug involved in her case was most likely Rohypnol, which is infamously known as “roofies” and for being a “date rape” drug, which just puts the callousness of blaming the victim for her attack into sharp relief.

But even worse than how my friend has been treated, the owners of this event have kept secret the information that someone was dosed at one of their events. They have not informed other members of a group of the possible danger. This is not only disgusting, but means that if this happens to any of their members at a future event, they are culpable. Their members are owed the knowledge, so that they can protect themselves. And the group owners need to make it known they are taking steps to protect their members.

There will always be those who are sceptical of accounts of incidents such as these, pointing out the possibility of strange prescription drug interactions or people denying that they drank as much as they actually did. But even if you are sceptical of one person’s story (or, as in this case, the similar stories of two different people), wouldn’t you want to know that there had been allegations of this sort of violation, and decide for yourself what, if anything, you want to do about it?

I feel very lucky that I live where I do, and am surrounded by friend who care for me, and know that any clubs or other venues I chose to go to in my city are places where I would be respected and protected.

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