“Woof! Grrrrrrrrr. Woof! Woof!” says the man in the leather dog mask and wrestling singlet as I pass him by the pool at Alexis Park. Knowing he’s purely paying me a compliment, I thank him. In any other circumstance I would have been taken off guard, but I’m at Drummer North America, a fetish weekend open to all but aimed at gay kinksters into leather, rubber, BDSM, uniforms and smoking cigars in bed.

Birthed from the now-defunct, leather-focused Drummer magazine—and one of many events where gay men gather to experience the brotherhood of this niche community—Drummer North America was held in Las Vegas for the first time this year January 28-31. And as a gay journalist with no proclivities for this semi-underground world of sexual exploration, I was curious to see what the hype was about. Fifty Shades of Grey made The New York Times best-seller list for a reason, right?

My naïveté must have been palpable, since throughout the day men in skin-tight cowhide pants and leather harnesses shot looks my way, a handful calling me “fresh meat” when I asked about their experiences with the gay-leather and BDSM scenes. But I was no intimidated Anastasia Steele-type, because the atmosphere was completely welcoming, and the attendees were thoughtful, friendly people simply connecting through shared infatuations.

DNA hosted workshops throughout the weekend, including discussions and/or demos on rope bondage, flogging and, yes, cock-and-ball torture. I was present for Sir James’ session on flogging, in which he demonstrated whipping techniques while going over health and safety concerns.

“You don’t want to hurt your toys,” one attendee said. I thought he was talking about whips and the like, but he meant play partners, explaining the thin line between inflicting consensual pain and causing harm.

DNA also included cocktail socials, strip poker, “play spaces” for intimate acts, and a contest for the titles of Drummer and DrummerBoy that involved performances and fantasy stagings—one of the most entertaining and, well, stimulating events I’ve been to in some time (and I was at AVN the weekend before). While my day down the kinky rabbit hole didn’t exactly convert me to the Church of Leather, I’m glad to have a better understanding of what makes some of my gay brethren tick—and maybe also to know that I missed absolutely nothing by not reading E.L. James’ mommy-porn.