Embracing homoerotic masculinity

I went to a bdsm party last night, wearing a braided metal collar, a black kilt and a leather bulldog harness. Underneath the kilt, were men's fetish briefs with a zipper that could open all the way front to back. Might was with me, leash clipped onto my collar. I had leather cuffs on both wrists, and parts of the night, while we were socializing, my hands were chained together on my back. 

I didn't feel submissive. But I absolutely felt like a bottom. And I really, really enjoyed that role. I also felt undoubtedly masculine presenting. Queer as hell, absolutely. But masculine, homoerotic, in a way I've never done before. 

I couldn't have done that alone. I wouldn't have dared. My internalized transphobia is convinced that no one can ever find me attractive again... If I look like a man, I can only be reviled. So this outfit actually felt MORE scary than the gender bending I did at the party this spring, when I wore a feminine fishnet body-stocking and a garter belt. Exploring, embracing homoerotic masculinity.. That still feels terrifying to me. (Decommissioned robots and all that.) 

The kink scene in this town is also fairly sapphic and straight. I only know of a single openly gay man here. However, this party was a national event, drawing crowds from other parts of the country too. 

The kink scene here is also almost... Asexual. In a way. Bare asses and tits for spanking, sure. Moans and grunts as someone is suspended or tied in a torture tie, absolutely. But I've never seen bare genitals being touched up here, since we moved back in 2020. Never seen or heard anyone having an orgasm. (Not at events with the local bdsm club, that is.) 

So I was glad the event last night was a larger one, because Might and I had plans that were very sexual in nature. But I'm saving the accounting of those plans for my next post. They were very, very hot.