Author: Nico Green
The first time I went to a sex-positive party, it changed my life. These days, it barely changes my mood. What happened?
Let’s travel back in time – two years ago, I went to my first sex-positive party right before the end of a 7-year relationship. My partner and I had “the talk” before I went — I was free to do as I pleased at the party. Still, I knew it would shake up the relationship quite a bit. Maybe it would be the final blow.
It wasn’t easy to decide to go to that party, and as a result, I made an effort to make the most of my experience. I talked to new people, made amazing new friends, and even fell in love again, crazy enough. But that was two years ago. Somewhere along the way, I stopped making myself vulnerable in these spaces. I stuck to my curated group of friends and occasional lovers, carving a comfort zone for myself amid the beautiful chaos of the sex positive scene.
So tonight I decided to play a game. I decided to do some “Rejection Therapy” at Kit Kat club, a sex positive club in Berlin known around the world for a culture of open mindedness. Rejection therapy is a self-help technique that involves intentionally seeking out rejection to reduce the fear of it. It’s a form of exposure therapy. I was planning on exposing myself to the judgement of strangers by asking them daring questions that might very reasonably be met with a “No” and an awkward silence. But that moment never came.
Hello! Can you slap me in the face, please?
It’s 10pm and I’m laying on a couch with four of the friends that I came with. We’re debating what my first daring question should be and we settle on a simple request: a slap to my face.
As crazy as it sounds, there is a sneaky reason why this is a great question to ask a stranger. In this scenario, it’s me who is giving up my power, so the stranger isn’t in a very vulnerable position. Also, I like to be dominated by cute, confident he’s, she’s, and they’s. My nervousness will be sweetened by my excitement.
My friends watch me closely from the couch as I get up and start scanning the room for someone to reject me. In the corner of the room I see a short woman sitting down. She’s wearing lacy black lingerie and a serious look. I walk over to where she’s sitting and I strike a conversation.
“Hey! I have a really strange question to ask you, is that alright?”
“Of course”, she says back to me, calmly.
Finally, I ask my nervous question.
“Can you slap me in the face?”
“How hard?” She says, without hesitation.
She’s looking me in the eyes now.
I stumble over my words while replying because I didn’t imagine what to do if somebody actually said yes. Tonight was about rejection, I thought.
“Ah, um, hmm. Maybe slap me five times, and I’ll say ‘Red’ if it’s too hard. I’ll say ‘Orange’ if we are getting close to red.”
“Okay, and on which side of your face should I slap?”
She speaks with crystal clear confidence and control. I was worried about making her uncomfortable, but it’s me who’s struggling to meet her gaze. I’m a bit scared now – so I guess everything is going according to plan, actually.
“Whatever you want” I say quickly, a bit eager, or maybe anxious. I can’t tell anymore.
“Okay, let’s begin.”
She cocks her hand back behind her head and keeps it there for a moment. We are both smiling now. Mine is a nervous smile. I’m not sure about hers. Then she smacks me on my left cheek about twice as hard as I expected.
“Holy shit” I say, out loud, laughing with surprise. The smack woke me up. Suddenly I’m fully lucid. Fully aware of the moment I’m locked into with my impromptu dominatrix.
”How was that?” She asks, curious. The care in her tone puts me at ease.
“It was orange. Let’s try to keep it at that level”
She slaps me four more times, checking in with me in between. The last slap is a bit harder than the others, which I love. Finally, we hug tightly, acknowledging the moment we just shared, and part ways.
Actually, I want you to whip me
I have my flogger with me tonight, so next, I decide to see if I can find someone to whip me with it. Right next to the bar, I spot a woman standing alone smoking a cigarette.
I approach her and ask my question, ready to be rejected.
“Hey, would you like to whip me with this flogger?”
“No, sorry! I can’t get whipped today, but it’s just because I have an injury on my back or else I totally would”, she replies.
It takes me a second to register her response, and then I understand. She thought I wanted to use the flogger on her. I try again.
“Actually, I want you to whip me”.
Suddenly her face lights up.
“Really? Wow! I’ve never used one of these before! Teach me how!”
I post both my hands on the nearest wall while she whips my ass cheeks with the flogger. She’s excited and a bit nervous. The same way I felt when I was getting slapped in the face earlier. She laughs like a child with a huge grin on her face while we put on a show for everyone around the bar. Party goers are staring now. Even the busy bartenders stop what they’re doing for a moment to watch. A small crowd forms around us.
When she decides she’s had enough fun, she hands the flogger back to me and thanks me. I thank her too. We hug tightly, acknowledging the moment we just shared, and part ways.
Can I kiss you?
I walk to a room where the music isn’t so loud, sit down, and roll a cigarette.
When I arrived here tonight, I couldn’t have imagined how open people would be to me approaching them. In my day to day life, it’s rare that I strike up a conversation with a stranger, especially a woman. In my head, women in public places just want peace and random men are usually perceived as a threat to that peace. Maybe that’s not the absolute truth, but it’s a story I tell myself.
I’m filled with gratitude, locked in a moment with myself, when a girl sits down to the left of me. I saw her dancing earlier in the night and thought to myself “Wow – she’s cute”, but I wasn’t going to just walk up to her and strike a conversation. Now that she is sitting next to me and I have already travelled far past my comfort zone, it seems more plausible.
She has curly red hair that reminds me of my first girlfriend. If you’ve ever been close to someone who has curly hair, you know how much time and expensive products go into maintaining it. We lock eyes for a moment, smile, and stare at each other just a bit too long.
“Your hair is so pretty by the way”, I say.
“Thank you! I actually just cut it and I’m still not sure if I like it, so I really appreciate that”
We go from talking about her hair, to talking about Berlin, to talking about Kit Kat club. It’s her first time tonight, same as me. We also discover that we are both polyamorous. Then, after maybe 15 minutes of excited conversation we hit a comfortable silence.
When I first sat down, I was considering one more round of rejection therapy before calling it a night, though I didn’t have a question in mind. Up until now my questions were always daring ones — they were meant to challenge me. But I guess the therapy was working because here I was, flirting with a cute stranger, both of us smiling just a little too much.
I decide on my last question for the night,
“Can I kiss you?”
She smiles with her teeth and says,
“Yes, please!”
We spend the next hour together, I think. Time bends a little when you’re wrapped in a beautiful moment. There were more questions and more responses of “Yes, please!”, from both of us.
Afterwards, I help her find her friends again in the labyrinth that is Kit Kat club. After about 30 minutes we find them and then celebrate with a drink. Finally, we hug tightly, acknowledging the moment we just shared, and part ways. Maybe forever. Then again, maybe not.
About the Author:
Nico Green writes about sex, but it’s never really about the sex. His work has been featured in Temptress Magazine, SEXTRAS, and Moist Poetry Journal. Nico is polyamorous, bisexual, and prefers he/him pronouns. Based in Berlin.