Some friends did a demo for Primal Night at a local dungeon last night. Though it is something that seems to have grown in popularity of late, it is truthfully not one I’ve really paid a lot of attention to. You know that BDSM test everyone takes at some point? I might have scored above 0% for Primal Hunter or Prey on it, but barely. Nevertheless, I adore my friends and wanted to support them, so I loaded up my toybag (just in case) and headed out.
Primal play allows its participants to embrace their animal cores where emotions are raw and desire is uninhibited. Social niceties are discarded, and take-what-you-want-when-you-want-it becomes the rule of the day. As in all BDSM play, prior negotiations are important, but within agreed upon boundaries, base impulses and behaviors reign supreme. For some, the attraction lies in the hot, animalistic sex, unfettered by societal norms. Others are drawn by the opportunity to drop their daily responsibilities and masks as they devolve into their most basic selves driven by instinct, impulse, and desire. As such, primal play can resemble a mating ritual, a hunt, or an all out melee.
Upon my arrival at the dungeon, I greeted several people. We curiously noted that around the perimeter of the mats in the center of the room were several piles of impact toys - canes, paddles, whips - carefully arranged at regular intervals. This was going to be primal play with weapons! As the demo began, they stood nose to nose, eyes locked, swaying to music none of us could hear. Their excitement was palpable, and her laughter punctuated the hushed anticipation of the onlookers. Lips met as hands began removing clothing - her dress, his shirt, her bra, his jeans, socks. Their bodies parted to reach for their chosen weapons as they circled one another, eyes locked.
They sprang toward each other, both swinging, both landing blows. The thunk of the paddle and the thwack of the cane combined with the sound of their feet trampling the mats, filling the dungeon with their personal symphony as they fought for the upper hand. Her laughter continued to ring out, especially each time an exclamation of pain escaped his lips. They grappled with each other while swinging away, landing an attack here, successfully parrying one there. Their skin began to show a rosy bloom as welts arose from the repeated onslaught of blows. Occasionally they’d separate, eyeing one another warily, catching their breath before springing once more into the fray.
He grabbed a whip, and she positioned herself against the St. Andrews Cross. He threw the whip time after time, lining her back with evidence of his skill while her hips gyrated her approval. The whip became a garrote when he pulled her tight against him, whip at her throat as he lowered her slowly to the ground, her subtle tap giving him the signal to release her. They continued to wrestle and fight, a primal dance that captivated all who watched, until they fell together in a pile, completely spent and out of breath.
The ovation was loud and heartfelt, and more than one person expressed the need for a smoke. As for me? Well, it might be time to take that test again.