Photo credit: FemmeFatale Films
I think I'd always been a bit of a closet kinkster. I remember going to the rock clubs in my younger days and being mightily impressed by the 'Motley Crue' fashions of the era. Short skirts, thigh high leather boots and huge hair really seemed to float my boat. Obviously, I was a stinky penniless art student so any grand designs that I had of a rockstar life were quickly swept away.
The army promised adventure. It promised action, girls, exotic travel, sport and fitness, and it promised danger. Nobody joins the army to go to war, they join for the exciting lifestyle and the camaraderie. I can safely say that I've never had (and never will have) better friends than the lads I met in the army. They're the kind of people who'll wake up next to you in the morning in a half built hotel showroom on a building site in Cyprus, or the ones who'll never leave your side when the situation gets a bit tricky and you have rounds coming down over your head.
Everybody had a fetish, a type, a fantasy, and they'd be more than happy to elaborate and share that information whether you wanted to hear about it or not. Everything was shared from cigarettes, food, beer, all the way down to sexual preferences. Sometimes there was a knock on your door at 3 o clock on a sunday morning and standing there would be a random fraulein who’d been kicked out of the room next door. It was also common practise to nip down to the eros centre mob handed after a Saturday night out. If you didn't pull in the local German night club then you were guaranteed a good time at the local knocking shops, and there were a lot of them. We were all young, we were invincible, we were living life and it felt great. If the Soviet 3rd Shock Army ever decided to invade and roll across the plains of Europe then we would have lasted around two minutes and then been annihilated. However, if the Russians wanted to achieve total victory then all they had to do was invade at eleven o’clock on a friday night when the entire British Army was on the piss.
The European attitude towards sex and depravity is a lot more tolerant and open minded than the Brit mentality. Sex shops were pretty much on the corner by every Bahnhof, there were 'wank booths' in each of the shops, a kind of 'try before you buy' when it came to purchasing your favourite brand of filth. And, some of the lads would also regularly visit the odd swingers club (once described as a '50 euro all you can eat buffet'). It was always edge of your seat stuff at 8am on a Monday morning seeing who was there on parade, seeing who'd survived the weekend, and finding out what STI people had and who had to go to the GU Med clinic. It was riveting. I think of all these liberal and very openly shared experiences had an impact on me. When I did my first film shoot there was no embarrassment, no awkward moments, and that military confidence really kicked in.
My first public outing as a slave was at a fetish Ball in Brighton nearly 4 years ago. Club ‘Spank’ had been running events for a few years, so my then partner and I decided to head on over and see what it was all about. I went for the ‘arseless leather chaps, harness and collar’ look, while my partner looked fabulous in black leather and opted for the ‘boobs out’ approach. One of my favourite memories of the evening was being stood at the bar with a guy dressed head to toe in rubber in high heels, a guy dressed as a sailor, and a bloke with a beard in a dress talking about the football. That doesn’t happen every day, at least not in the World that I was used to. So when I left the army, life was incredibly quiet. The Armed Forces isn’t one huge exciting Hollywood adventure, it can be mundane and very much a ‘get on the bus, get off the bus’ existence. However, it gives you a certain outlook on life and you never really look at normal life in the same way again. I was looking for something different. Something to fill the void. I was just about to find it...