Now you see me, Now you don’t!

So, what is sensory deprivation and how does one incorporate it into sexy time? I put on my investigating panties and delved deep into the mysterious world of blindfolds, ear plugs and glorious nakedness.

It was quite the swim I can tell you!

Ok, so first thing’s first, what is it? Well, you know what they say, when one sense is taken away, the others become more heightened. Have you ever put a blindfold on and found yourself listening more intently without even realising it?

Boom. You’re officially kinky.

All right maybe it’s not exactly that simple, but you get the gist. I myself have occasionally toyed around with blindfolds in the boudoir but due to my exceptionally large nose I could always see out the bottom if I opened my eyes. It was way too easy to cheat!

So, what is sensory deprivation and how does one incorporate it into sexy time? I put on my investigating panties and delved deep into the mysterious world of blindfolds, ear plugs and glorious nakedness.

It was quite the swim I can tell you!

Ok, so first thing’s first, what is it? Well, you know what they say, when one sense is taken away, the others become more heightened. Have you ever put a blindfold on and found yourself listening more intently without even realising it?

Boom. You’re officially kinky.

All right maybe it’s not exactly that simple, but you get the gist. I myself have occasionally toyed around with blindfolds in the boudoir but due to my exceptionally large nose I could always see out the bottom if I opened my eyes. It was way too easy to cheat!

I wanted to know how to incorporate sensory deprivation into my sex life that my nose couldn’t ruin. But how?

You guessed it, another handy workshop!

With the promise of activities that no nose could quash, I rolled into the workshop and was confronted by 30 or so people lounging on several thousand cushions placed strategically on the floor. Seriously, where does one get that many matching cushions? But that question would have to wait, as I was ushered over to a desk to take a number.

“When your number is called, you may enter”, cooed a very chillaxed looking woman behind the desk. And that was it. No more instructions other than to take a seat and wait.

Cushion chosen, I scoped the very warm room out. (A quick look at the aircon confirmed it was 30 degrees in the room.) The Nelly philosophy was clearly in motion here, as people around me got hot and most certainly took off their clothes.

Not wanting to seem a prude, I followed suit (sort of). I did take off my jumper in an attempt to keep my cantankerous sweat glands happy. (Honestly, a touch over 24 degrees and I’m sliding off chairs due to my drenched ass cheeks.)

Eventually it seemed as though everyone was settled and we began. Nothing too exciting really, just the usual housekeeping stuff. You know the type. Be quiet when you leave, smoke out the back and don’t take photos of naked people covered in lube sliding around on each other.

Unless they ask you to.

Then we were given a consent sheet regarding our limits and where we didn’t want to be touched.

I pondered for a while. Would I be cool with all this touching?

Just kidding. There was no pondering. The answer was a very definite yes! I only wrote ‘maybe don’t shove a finger in my belly button’ so I’d fill the space.

Plus, my belly button is kind of gross, so really I was doing them a favour.

Anyways, I was number 19, and had to sit and wait patiently for my number to be called.

It was like the sexiest Centrelink waiting room ever.

Finally though, my number was called. I was slightly disappointed they weren’t calling them like bingo numbers. ‘Flick the bean, it’s number nineteen!”

Missed opportunity in my opinion.

I was led into a small room by one of the volunteers called Dave. He told me two things. Firstly, to undress as much as I felt comfortable, and second, to expect anything.

Feeling pretty damn uncomfortable now Davo!

My mind reeled at the possibilities.

What awaited me behind the seemingly innocuous door? Needles? Fire? Someone bending me over and shoving raw ginger up my ass?

Gasp, vajazzling?

Good god, what had I gotten into? I breathed deeply, comforted by the knowledge that at least my belly button was safe. Decision made, I whipped off my top and my bra. I would have gone the whole way but unfortunately I was sporting the red badge of courage that night so a full beaver reveal was sadly out of the question.

A few moments later, freezing nipples leading the way (this room was certainly not as warm as the bikram chamber I had just emerged from) I was introduced to another of the male volunteers. A quite attractive volunteer. He wasn’t wearing a name tag so I just nicknamed him Pete. (I’d just found out that in Argentina Pete is a slang word for fellatio.) If Pete played his cards right, that’s just what he might be getting.

I must say, it’s quite a strange feeling, standing in front of a sexy fully-clothed man wearing nothing more than your necklace and yoga pants. That’s probably the reason why I greeted him with a wink and a, ‘sup.’

Face palm. Scratch the fellatio.

Luckily at that point he blindfolded me and ended any chances of more white girl gangster talk occurring.

Now I was in it. The ‘Sensorium’ had begun!

Pete gently took my hands and slowly guided me forward. I was hesitant at first, feeling the way with my toes before taking each tentative step. But soon I learnt to trust Pete. He hadn’t smashed my face into any walls (although personally I think the ‘sup’ comment gave him reason enough) and there was nothing I was walking on but carpet. I took a deep breath and put my trust in this very handsome man.

As we moved forward through what felt like a beaded curtain, I heard pulsing beats and rhythms. Drums? Guitar? Strange stick thing with bells on it? I found myself tilting my head in order to hear each instrument as they thrummed through the room. I was surprised to find my mouth was open, tasting the air as if that would help me absorb the music more fully.

Pete’s hands holding mine guided me for a few more steps before we came to a stop and they disappeared. For a moment I felt bereft. Those hands were all I had to cling onto in this new and nerve-wracking experience and they’d just abandoned me!

Pete’s hands were quickly replaced by at least two new sets.

I breathed in sharply as I felt at least four hands gently caress my arms, my neck, my torso and yep, my fun puppies.

It was so nice! The excitement of not knowing what would happen next, who was touching me and where they might lead me added an intense element to the whole thing. The hands withdrew again and this time were replaced by a… I have no idea actually. It could have been something wildly erotic, or it could have been a wooden spoon. That’s the joy of a blindfold!

I will say here that unfortunately my plonker of a nose was in fact still an issue, but I decided right at the beginning to squeeze my eyes shut at all times in order to get the most out of the experience.

I breathed deeply as whatever it was was traced all over my body before coming back to circle my nipples. All the while the pulsing music beat rapidly in the background, staccato drum beats keeping things tribal and intense. I heard a sharp smack and a startled groan as someone nearby received their own wooden spoon in a much more… direct manner. Whatever was happening, they were certainly enjoying it!

I hadn’t even realised there were other people in the room with me, I was so absorbed in my own sensations that it hadn’t even crossed my mind.

But I had no more time to think about them as I was now being guided to another section of the room by yet another set of hands.

I stopped, as what felt like beads were guided gently over my skin. However, they didn’t stay gentle for long.

Ooh, ah, goddam that stings!

My inner voice was screaming at me to stop this madness, to ask whoever was violently flaying my breasts to ease up and go back to the nice stuff. The beads came down again and again on my delicate nipple holsters, stinging like crazy but never breaking the skin. Each bead left a trail of sensation behind that I wasn’t sure if I loved or loathed. But I wasn’t going to stop, I wanted to feel it all, the pain and the pleasure. So I stayed silent and took my boob punishment.

Go me.

After I survived the pap flogging, I was guided onward once again, this time not stopping until I could feel someone’s hot breath on my face. (It’s cool, they had nice fresh breath so I was more than happy with our proximity. The only part I felt bad about was perhaps my Hungry Jack’s dinner had made my own breath less than appealing.) Still, there was no time to think about mundane things like that, as a firm voice right next to my ear commanded me, “open wide.”

I did as I was bid, thinking I would receive a finger for my troubles, but instead got a Nutella coated strawberry. Score!

“Bite, hard.”

Hey whatever you say lady, who am I to say no to a fresh-breathed giver of chocolate fruit?

Before I had time to thank her for the offering a strong set of arms came around me from behind and held me tight.

I could feel their whole body pressed up against me. Might have been a girl, might have been a guy. Don’t know, don’t care.

Whoever it was could certainly move! I loved the way they crushed me into their embrace as they ground into my back, swaying languorously with the music. The beat intensified as their hands slid all the way up and down my body, making me feel both incredibly erotic and yet surprisingly safe at the same time. It really made me realise the power and sexuality a body can wield. I relaxed into their hold, letting my head fall back and allowed them total power over me.

God I hoped this wasn’t the part I got ginger up the butt.

But I was lucky this time. Once the giver of my amazing hug (I really hoped it was Pete) had released me, woozy and dazed from sensation overload, my hands were taken once again and I was led back to my little room.

When the blindfold was finally removed, I squinted blearily into the bright light, searching for Pete. But just like the music, the bead-flayer and my magical embracer, he had vanished.

What just happened?

As I stumbled from the room and waved a giddy goodbye to the others waiting to enter, (“fun and well-hung, it’s number 21!) I realised I felt almost drunk. I was filled with a strange euphoria that I couldn’t explain.

Even though nothing particularly crazy or ‘out there’ had occurred in the rooms, the experience of not knowing, of completely trusting in strangers, in Pete and in the process had ceased my usual nonstop thoughts and left me with an amazing sense of peace and calm.

Moral of the story? Don’t call your kid Pete.

But also, you don’t need to incorporate wild, intense or risky techniques to inject excitement into your sex life! By giving yourself up entirely to the process, you can clear your mind of all the nonsense that pops up at all the wrong times. So if you’re like me, and thoughts such as, ‘I wonder if those carrots will last another day’ or ‘I really must alphabetise those DVDs,’ then sensory deprivation is for you!

All you need is a blindfold, a partner you can trust entirely and a bit of imagination.

Some sort of tribal Spotify list wouldn’t hurt either.

Have fun!

Written by Claire W.

Oh and P.S! I found a blindfold that fits my honker! Anyone in my situation, grab a sheepskin blindfold and you can’t see a damn thing!