I’m sipping champagne in the kitchen of the famous Chateau, the Cat Girl Manor where BDSM kittens party and play, when a young woman runs in wearing a leather jacket with absolutely nothing underneath. She announces, “it’s topless time!” and a gaggle of giggling girls follow her lead — prancing out of the house, pulling their tops off their chests, and crowding around a fire pit on the back porch.
[Mr. Crowley, The Chateau's macaw, says "hello" as you enter the kitchen]
On the veranda of this stunning Victorian mansion are a dozen young, beautiful, half-naked women huddled together, basking in the glow of the fire. We read erotic poetry to one another, applauding at beautiful passages and giggling at naughty ones.
Some male spectators hatch an idea to spice up poetry hour. They haul out a new toy for the girls to play with: an adult-sized rocking horse that vigorously vibrates the crotch of whoever sits on it. We take turns riding the horse while reading poetry. I watch a couple of women reciting longer poems lose their composure before the last verses, their words turning into moans as they approach a climax and outright shrieks when they achieve it.
In one young woman’s climactic grand finale, she cries out like an opera soprano and helplessly releases her flute full of champagne, shattering glass all over the floor. In this instant, as the party bursts into hearty laughter, I realize how mistaken I’d been in my expectations of an evening at The Cat Girl Manor.
I’d expected a sex party. Like the many nights I’d spent in sex dungeons or at BDSM play parties, I expected to feel out of place as a lone vanilla fuddy-duddy in a sea of seasoned kinksters. However, my time at The Chateau was something else entirely, far superior to the standard sex party experience for a myriad of factors:
[Collection of sex toys in The Cat Girl Manor's bright red basement]
The age range
My first several sex parties were marked by a notable discrepancy between my age and the ages of fellow guests. My first BDSM party was spent exploring a dominatrix dungeon with a doting 70-year-old man dressed as his erotic alter ego, “Cherry Tart,” a jezebel in a red latex dress, platform heels, and feather boa. My first marijuana-themed sex party was a laid-back gathering of stoned 40-somethings escaping the stresses of their developed careers in middle management.
It’s an uncomfortable feeling to be the youngest woman in a space teeming with sexual energy. You feel more vigilant; you can practically hear the old men sniffing out your fertility like horny bloodhounds. You feel more strained to connect with people; you know that older generations have entirely different interests and values, and blame your generation for the death of department stores, fabric softener, golf, casinos, marriage, the 9 to 5 workday, the napkin industry, and Buffalo Wild Wings.
At The Chateau’s party, I was surrounded by my peers — young women I could envision myself having slumber parties with. We matched one another in levels of energy, sense of humor, and that young-adult angst that can only come from pouring our hard-earned tax dollars into a Social Security system that’s bound to collapse before our own retirement.
Sex is a pastime that knows no age constraints, so it’s important that every walk of life can explore their perverted fantasies in a welcoming setting. However, the comfort of homogeneity makes a world of a difference in an intimate space where you might explore the opportunity to get naked, tied up, and have your ass spanked like a disobedient pack mule.
[The Chateau's elegant parlor includes a vintage velvet loveseat and baby grand piano]
Chicks to dicks
Since the era of the cavemen, humans have sought to provide their parties with the perfect ratio of chicks to dicks. Without our constant efforts to correct the imbalance, every orgy would devolve into a sausage fest of dudes playing helicopter with their limp penises.
However, it seems the Cat Girl Manor has cracked the code of pussy proportion. This party was positively swimming in honies, with an impressive 4 to 5 young women for every lucky son of a bitch.
A larger ratio of girls is a win-win for everyone: men witness a great number of boobies at “topless time,” and women have more opportunities to foster camaraderie with like-minded ladies and form everlasting female friendships.
How the Chateau achieved this is evident: it cultivated a community focused on fulfilling women’s fantasies and catering to their desires, and developed a sense of sisterhood among them. Here girls feel safe, valued, and empowered to explore the complexities of their sexuality.
[The Cat Girl Manor's ornate table displays fresh flowers, cupcakes, necklaces and cat collars]
Respect for boundaries
My experiences with sex parties were always anxiety-ridden exercises. I feared the perverted spectacles I would witness, the attention I would attract, and the requests I would get to engage in painful sex acts.
I’m all for pushing boundaries, but sex parties have a tendency to surpass the boundaries of your comfort zone and keep going further and further, like an unhinged ferris wheel rolling toward the sea. I’ve been a horrified observer of knife play, maximally invasive anal probing, and a woman getting restrained and aggressively fucked by a high-speed dildo machine. I’ve been whipped past the point of pleasure and chained to a St Andrew’s cross at moments I was desperate for escape.
The Chateau provided endless surprises, but never put me in a position of discomfort, compelled me to take part in a practice that didn’t appeal to me, or pushed me to experiment on my genitals with foreign machinery. BDSM play was a polite offering, but not the primary motive of the evening or an obligation of attendance.
[The Chateau's tasteful library fit for literary kitties]
If the Cat Girl Manor’s model were emulated by other kinky communities, the sex scene might find itself a much more welcoming environment for exploratory young men and women. Every sexually viable fledgling deserves to experience its perfect fusion of childlike playtime and adult sexual escapades.
There are countless elements that make The Chateau’s soirees superior to any sex party, but it all comes down to a feeling of belonging. The moment I achieved it, I shed all of my previously-held misgivings about the Cat Girl Manor as eagerly as I’d shed my clothes for the next “topless time.”