IT is nearly midnight on a Saturday and I have donned a plastic golden crown I found left over from last year's Halloween.
I'm getting into character, I suppose. I'm heading to a Celestial Bodies and Gods "play party" at an undisclosed Newcastle location.
Here I'll meet and observe members of the local kink community.
I want to get in by 12am because that's the time of the "virgin sacrifice" performance.
A few days earlier I interviewed Hollie Tose, founder of Newcastle Labyrinth. Their website reads "the aim of labyrinth is to allow our kink family the chance to explore in ways which are safe, inclusive and affirming".
Tose is known alternatively as "Gracie Crumbs" in the kink community. I'm so curious to learn more.
I wouldn't call myself kinky, but I am open to anything. I joke I'm try-sexual; I'll try anything once.
Tose, 36, got involved in the kink scene about five years ago.
"I've found in this community, at least one in three have a similar story," Tose says.
"We went down the monogamous route, the white picket fence, the house in the suburbs and you find yourself deeply unhappy."
Her marriage broke down and she took some time to think about what was really going to make her happy.
Tose learnt about "FetLife", a kinky version of Facebook.
"I found kink and polyamory and queerness and all those wonderful things, and through those mechanisms I've built a community and family and met wonderful people who are beautiful and authentic," she says.
"It's really nice being in these communities; you get this level of connection I wasn't able to find through work and mums' groups. It resonates with me."
BDSM is an umbrella term for different things, some of which aren't sexual.
BDSM stands for "bondage, discipline, sadism, masochism", and the "d" and "s" can also stand for "dominance" and "submission".
It includes the Japanese rope bondage practice of shibari, needle play, impact (hitting) play, wax play, role play and more.
"Some are there to explore with others, some come with a couple, some come just to look and some just come because it's a safe space," Tose says.
People who attend have to apply to get in, and not everyone gets a pass.
If anyone is uncomfortable with another person attending, there's a risk. If you do attend and you make people uncomfortable, you might not be welcomed back.
"It's not that we excommunicate, but people need to put their best selves forward," she says.
They take consent, sexual hygiene and safety incredibly seriously.
The application form asks for names of members in the local community who can vouch for you and what other kink events you've attended.
A membership from March to December of 2023 is $520. A one-off ticket is $70 and $120 for a couple.
Fortunately, Tose is letting me pop in at no cost. I've agreed to run this story by her (not standard journalistic practice) and everyone at the party knows that I'm coming. It's part of the consent mindset.
I arrive five minutes before midnight to the Play Party, and the theme is Celestial Gods and Bodies.
I am greeted by a scantily-clad glittery person with a sash across her chest titled "labyrinth monitor".
She shows me around. I see the different rooms including two for whips and one for medical play.
There are various kink contraptions with doors and holes.
A booking sheet outside the door let's different people sign up for a time slot and roped barriers can be placed across the door to limit numbers.
People can always look; doors never close so the monitors can listen for safe words.
Then the monitor and I walk into the bar for the "virgin sacrifice".
People must bring their own alcohol and have it served back to them, something I decide I will need.
The bartender pours me my wine, and I settle in for the show, which I'll leave to the imagination for now.
A clear element of friendship, fun and camaraderie exists among the crowd.
The crowd disperses and I wander around to ask some questions. Outside the bar, the lighting is bright, we can all see each other well.
Once I tell a few folks I'm the journalist, they are eager to discuss their lifestyle with me.
We discuss the differences between polyamory versus non-monogamy, we talk about kinks and consent.
Many are drinking soft drinks; their rules are, if you get too drunk you cannot consent.
Everybody stands around in interesting outfits, and we've all just watched a graphic performance, and yet part of me feels as though we're all having coffee.
I feel like I am among kind people who are excited to share their culture. I have felt far more uncomfortable at nightclubs and house parties at this time of evening.
Then a different monitor and I sit down in one of the rooms to watch another couple do some impact play with a variety of flogs, canes and paddles.
Pairs are flogging each other in two different rooms, and where I'm sitting I can watch both. I can't keep up. A masculine person with nipple tassels and a garter with little planets hanging off the side is being flogged and laughing continuously.
Later Tose explains to me that many in their community are neurodivergent and are particularly partial to sensory play and the many different textures that can come with that.
I would love to stick around, but it's getting quite late, and my partner is less than thrilled about this specific assignment.
While I need to go home, I'm fascinated at how completely safe and comfortable I feel.
Several people tell me that they too feel much safer here than other venues around, because of the emphasis on consent and the limited alcohol.
I have many conversations beyond this, about the toys, about the culture, the broader Australian kink community.
I arrive home and mull over the interesting evening and people I just met. We're all just trying to find our people and find our way.
The Newcastle Labyrinth was recently recognised as the best BDSM venue by the 2023 Playhouse Australian Adult Industry Awards.
