do’s n’ don’ts

Dungeon Etiquette 101: The Do’s, Don’ts, and Definitely Don’ts

The dungeon isn’t some fantasy postcard of chains and corsets—it’s sweat on leather, breath pressed into steel, and silence sliced open by the crack of something you should’ve asked permission to hold. It’s the closest thing we have to holy ground, not because it’s pure, but because it’s carved out of our filth and fire. In this room, boundaries are currency, and if you can’t handle the transaction, you’ll end up broke and embarrassed. Nobody writes these rules on stone tablets, but they’re tattooed across the community’s memory, and you’ll only learn them the hard way if you don’t listen. So take this seriously—better to hear it here than fuck it up in front of everyone and become the story no one forgets.

Rule one: don’t be the creeper. Don’t hover like a bad smell. Don’t glue your eyes to someone until their skin crawls. And for fuck’s sake, don’t touch without consent. That collar isn’t an invitation, it’s a contract between them and someone else. The dungeon is where people strip themselves open—sometimes down to bone—and you don’t get to wander in like it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet. Admire, sure. Observe the ritual, the rhythm, the craft. But don’t think that being present earns you rights. Respect is the difference between watching art and defacing it. Look, but don’t touch. If that feels complicated, you shouldn’t be here.

The floor itself is sacred. A scene is a closed circuit, and you don’t get to break it. Don’t cut across the play space like it’s your shortcut to the bathroom. Don’t lean your bored body against the St. Andrew’s cross like it’s bar furniture. Don’t interrupt the dance mid-beat because you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention. This isn’t a stage for your clumsy cameo. It’s as private as a whispered confession, even when fifty people are watching. If you’re not part of it, stay the fuck out.

And the toys—let’s be clear—are not toys. That flogger on the wall isn’t your party favor. Those chains aren’t decoration. These tools have teeth, and they belong to someone. Don’t pick them up like you’re auditioning for some dime-store porn parody. You want to use something? Ask. You don’t know what it’s for? Ask. Ignorance is forgivable; arrogance is not. This isn’t a petting zoo for your curiosity.

Noise has its place. Screams, moans, and the percussion of leather on skin belong here. They feed the atmosphere. But your commentary doesn’t. Nobody came here to hear your TED Talk on flogging technique or your drunk-guy volume laughter. If you’re not in the scene, keep your mouth low and your voice lower. Think library rules with a soundtrack of agony and release. Respect the soundscape. Don’t drown it out.

Now, the spine of all etiquette: consent. If you don’t know this, you’re already lost. Ask before you approach, before you touch, before you even step too close. No means no. Yes means yes—but only to exactly what was agreed to. Nothing more. Consent isn’t a one-time permission slip; it’s living, breathing, and revocable at any moment. And don’t even think about inserting yourself into someone else’s play. Their dynamic isn’t yours to hijack. You are not the director.

Never, ever fuck with someone’s headspace. This isn’t the place for your shitty jokes about boundaries. Don’t push just to see if they’ll break. Don’t toy with their emotions and call it “part of the scene.” Kink is psychological as much as it is physical, and when you sabotage someone’s mind, you can do damage that leaves bruises you’ll never see. If you can’t handle the weight of that, stay out.

And aftercare—don’t skip it. When the cuffs come off, when the adrenaline collapses, when the tears or silence arrive—that’s when the real responsibility begins. Aftercare isn’t optional; it’s the other half of the scene. If you’ve dragged someone through pain, power, or release, you owe them grounding. A hug, a blanket, water, a hand on the back. Don’t abandon someone you’ve unraveled. That’s not dominance. That’s cowardice.

At the end of the night, dungeon etiquette boils down to two things most people claim to know but rarely practice: respect and common sense. You’d think they’d be obvious, but people fuck that up daily. So remember this: don’t be an asshole. Everything else grows from there.