Hmmrr-hmm-hrm-hmm mmmhrrrm-hrrrhm-hur-hum-mrrrh
/removes inflatable gag and gimp hood
Sorry, that’s no way to introduce myself as the barman for the day, although for the benefit of some of our patrons I will keep the long wig and leather duster jacket on.
While the rest of you watch Pete get all pent up betting on how tightly Karen can lace herself into her corset I’ll mingle through the crowd and thank the Gods of kink that some females turned up today, otherwise we were going to have to encourage drag in the dresscode.
ClearBlueDave is going to have trouble reaching his beer as he’s strapped to a St Andrew’s Cross being tickled with peacock feathers. Guess that statement about having a beer or being tickled worked out true. Meanwhile S is working up quite a sweat handling those feathers like a pro so she’s earned her Penis Colada. Open wide, down in one there you big tease.
Although Anna‘s scowling from the sidelines as she takes her long island iced tea like a man she’s caught the eye of Graybo with her lace-up boots and low-cut top. Better be careful there, you could lead him astray. We’ll limit him to just the one Vodka Tonic to be safe. And to be extra safe we’ll lock him in the cage in the corner. With the lion. And the tiger. And maybe the bear. Oh my.
Adrian’s been all over the topic this week and has had to descend to begging for a blowjob done properly, unfortunately we can’t oblige him and we’ll just have to line up and submit to his second request that he be given something that’ll knock him out. Don’t everyone brain him at once. His trusty wingman Destructor Dan hasn’t ordered anything but he can feel cheered up that he now stands a better chance of scoring with Adrian unconscious at his feet.
Mark wants an American Beauty, and considering that he’s already had quite a few who am I to refuse him another? I’m not sure that only going out with septics counts as a kink so he’s going to be required to wear the fake comedy breasts while he drinks here. Lets all point and laugh. I mean more than we would normally.
There’ll be no snickering at Dr Pockless in his majestic lecturer robes. Unless he lifts them up to show the corset, stockings and suspenders underneath. If he gets too pissed and leads a chorus of Sweet Transexual just humor him please everyone. He’s even dyed his hair red in an attempt to engage Annie into conversation. How she intends drinking that margarita when she’s had her wrists chained to her ankles is beyond me.
Mr D has confessed to a fondness for a particular bit of a lady. Dressed up in his best blue Smurf costume drinking that Smirnoff Ice and eyeing up Pix‘s feet in her preposterously high metal spiked heels, I get an inkling he’s a crush fan. We’ll release some mice and toads later for Pix and Anna to jump up and down on. Or they could get to work on the rat population of Club Uborkexxx where we’ll all go for a dance and a spank later.
And me? I’m going to put the gag back in and torture myself by staring at the droplets of condensation as they trickle down the neck of a cool bottle of beer like a true masochist.