Three nil! 28 February 2001
	Thirty years of hurt Never stopped me dreaming. Baddiel & Skinner - Three Lions '98 unofficial lyrics

Well, as she'd promised, the lovely Hannah Stone tonight introduced me to an entirely new SM experience; sitting in a pub watching England play international football. We share joint responsibility for the following commentary, which certainly scared the pub regulars who were sitting near us. People not into BDSM, or who didn't see the match in question will almost certainly not understand a word of it, but it made sense to us at the time, and we wanted to share it:

The build up was edgy and unsettling - waiting for your partner to arrive, not sure what toys they'll bring with them or what sort of mood they'll be in. Then they arrive, we hear what the team is, and the partner's turned up in a bright orange PVC number. Original and experimental, certainly, but a little unlikely to deliver the goods for you.

Then there's the faffing around for half an hour before kick off - untangling ropes, pulling off shoes on which the laces have become stuck, hacking the ice cobes out the back of the freezer and remembering where you left the blindfold. But finally the scene's ready, and the whistle blows for the start of the first half, and the game's afoot...

...at which point your partner leaves you tied to the bed for ten minutes while they go off to phone someone. Which is tedious and dull, and you've no idea how long it's going to be before anything interesting happens. Is this how the whole evening's going to go? You hope not, but you've got a sinking feeling. Then your partner returns and starts on you with the riding crop, but not very well or with much enthusiasm, and you're wondering why they don't use the flogger that they've got hidden in their bag of tricks.

This continues for the next half hour or so until suddenly, much against the run of the scene so far, your partner catches you just right with the riding crop and suddenly you're flying, feeling every stroke hitting just the right spot and within a minute you've come. And it's wonderful, but you're a bit apprehensive. How did that suddenly happen? Was it planned by your partner or was it an accident - the one moment of pleasure in an otherwise dull evening? You're not sure, and it's unsettling.

Then it's half time, and your partner turns you over and re-arranges their toys. Now the flogger makes an appearence, and suddenly the whole thing's on a new level. You're getting more and more turned on, and it's definitely building to a full-on, screaming, pulling-at-bonds climax. Your partner doesn't take you there at once, though; you're left hanging for a while, gasping a little, knowing it's inevitable, knowing you have to come soon but being expertly teased with a few false moves that stop just short of letting you come. Finally you're there, shouting, cheering, relieved and triumphant, and full of renewd confidence in your partner. They knew exactly what they were doing earlier - just building up the anticipation, playing with you, making you think that they'd lost their touch before starting on you in earnest.

The next time you come it's a matter of artistry; three strokes delivered in just the right places, nipple clamps snapped on at just the right time. Unstoppable. You're in heaven.

The feeling lasts for the rest of the scene, even though your partner gets a bit experimental for the last quarter of an hour, trying things that would have worried you earlier, but just seem fun and daring now. There's one nasty moment when they get out some needles - major squick, surely they're not going to use them? - but they grin and start on you with a pinwheel instead.

Nominally the scene's 90 minutes, but it runs a bit over and so there's that last moment of tension - when's it actually going to end? Is it all going to go horribly wrong at the last moment? But then, finally, it's over, and it's worked, and you stagger blisfully into your partner's arms, wondering why you ever doubted them.