An Afternoon of Devotion

As they say, you learn something new every day. On Sunday I learnt the Afrikaans  for “one thank You Mistress, tow thank You Mistress” and so on. My friend and I had bought a slave at the auction, a really sweet and submissive South African man, and had great fun administering a spelling test  with appropriate punishments for mistakes. He learnt a few new spellings, received a sore backside and we learnt a few words of a new language.

There is also the language of kink  and this is pretty universal. The salves on offer also included a Pole and a Spaniard. In post-referendum times we kinksters plough our own inclusive furrow.

I have always enjoyed Devotion, the quarterly femdom event held at Xstasia in West Bromwich,  but this was the best event yet. The slave auction was a new idea and a massive success. Domina Liza was a fabulous auctioneer and everyone had a good laugh as the sale progressed. And we were more than happy with our “purchase”  . But the greatest thing was that it broke the ice and enabled people to play with each other who might not otherwise even have spoken. Some of us go with our respective subs/dommes,  but many unattached kinksters go, and everyone who wants to, gets to play.

This is because it is a friendly event, and one, where, while due regard is paid to protocol, no-one takes themselves too seriously. Which is as it should be.

My slave and I had a ball and I am sure he would join me in thanking  Miss Treat, Miss Roxxy and Trample Temptress  for their respective roles in organising and running the event, Domina Liza  for being the most amazing auctioneer ever, and all of these ladies for total awesomeness. Oh and the subs too…because there can be no Devotion without them.

So, if you’re a submissive of any gender or a dominant who identifies as female, this really is an event you can’t miss. If you are in West Bromwich on 5th February 2017  Xstasia is the place to be. Oh and you get fed as well!

 

Tightly Bound

I showed my new leather over bust corset to my vanilla friend Jane.

“I’m surprised you got one” she said, “I remember you saying that that sort of thing was more for submissive women.”

And it is true that most of the corset wearing women I know on the scene identify as femsubs. Corsets are associated with restriction and restraint, the modelling of the female body to a template designed to please a dominant, privileged male. Maybe, I had thought, my slave’s eagerness to buy me a corset was a kind of sartorial topping from the bottom?

But the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea and even if being tied in by my slave seemed a bit unusual, I have always liked the look of a corset and the smell of new leather awakens my deepest and earliest fetishistic responses. So we bought the corset at the Birmingham Bizarre Bazaar  last month.

Bound tightly in it I could see how it feminised my body, gave me the hourglass figure I had craved. I teamed it with a latex pencil skirt, another form of restrictive but arousing clothing and….. if a woman I think is fucking hot describes me in the same words I know it has to be right.

My slave looked at me longingly and I looked at him, at the corset wrapped tightly around me, at the skirt that I could do no more than hobble in. As I did so I felt a powerful wave of sadistic desire surge through me. My slave will be richly rewarded for his generosity…….in pain and humiliation.

 

Taking a Bathroom Break

I have, on occasions, played in hotel rooms. These are in some respects not ideal locations, there is little room to swing a whip, no play equipment as such (and I have still to find a kinky use for a Corby trouser press, still being a little nervous of the obvious!). But there is a bathroom. And the scope for humiliation and degradation play in a bathroom is great.

On one occasion, whilst changing for the session, I noticed that my play partner had left the toilet lid up (a grave sin) and not flushed  it after having a wee (a graver sin). I warned him of the possible consequences of a repeat. Next time round I was pleased to note that he had complied with my instruction. But I still wanted my fun.

I made him crawl into the bathroom.

“Is your toilet clean?” I asked.

“Yes Mistress.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Show me.”

He hesitated.

“How Mistress?”

I let him sweat for a minute or so.

“Lick it out” I ordered.

His face fell and he attempted a smile. But I wasn’t joking. I gazed at him unsmiling. He understood and stuck his head down the bowl to begin licking.

Toilet humiliation gives me a tremendous buzz. I have made subs lick out dirty toilets, made them hump toilets, kissing  them passionately as they did so. I have contemplated dressing someone up in a bridal dress (or as near as I can get) and marry the toilet, with me as a perverted registrar..

And then there is the bath, ideal for urinating over them or giving someone a freezing cold shower. Yes, there is a lot of fun to be had in a bathroom.

I have come across people on the scene who look on this kind of play with distaste, even to the extent of worrying about my own sub’s wellbeing after we gave a demonstration of bathroom play at a kinky house party. He loves this kind of paly as much as I do which has been instrumental in helping to forge a proper D/S bond between us.   I understand that this is not for everyone but it has always been a big part of my kink and I make no apologies  for saying

“Lick out that toilet slave. “

 

NOT THE GOLF CLUB….PLEASE

I have never had the slightest interest in golf, that is apart from the time some Frenchman called Van der Velde threw away the British Open on the final afternoon after getting stuck in a stream where it was canalised in a concrete trough and dropped a dozen shots as he hacked away like an amateur. Cue laughter and schadenfreude oh and a little anger at the crass misogyny of Peter Alliss who apparently thinks the sole function of any woman in his life is to make his tea. But I digress…..

One of the reasons golf has never really appealed is that most golfers belong to clubs, which are expensive to join, have bars full of back slapping self-satisfied white men and that, if these things weren’t off-putting enough , you have to be proposed and seconded by existing members if you want to join yourself. I have never been a fan of anything that required you to be approved by somebody else before joining.

I am concerned, therefore, to see that Fetlife is now effectively an invitation only club. New people can only sign up if invited by an existing member. Just like the golf club, really, but without the G and Ts and the Pringle sweaters……unless that’s a particularly esoteric fetish that has passed me by.

I can see why they might have done this. In my early days on the scene I got to know a man who was banned from Fetlife for stalking and harassment of one particular lady and kept rejoining under new IDs and I know, too, if only anecdotally that abuse, trolling, and general dickheadery are not uncommon. I have had to block a couple of people because of the latter. But the new rules will not necessarily deal with these issues. What, for example, is to stop a troll inviting him or herself under new names to have an account ready for when they are banned? And what about those who are simply blocked and ignored but never reported and remain on Fetlife to seek out new victims?

For those not yet in the scene this is a disaster. I, and no doubt many of you reading this, struggled for years alone with my fetishes and fantasies, unaware of the scene, unaware that there were so many like-minded people living within five miles of me. Joining Fetlife opened up to me a world of munches and play events, and led to me meeting a number of lovely people who helped me to love myself as I am and were influential, often in ways they might not realise, in making me the person I am today.

So, Fetlife, please think again. Think of those who don’t know anyone on the scene who have no-one to invite them and, because they cannot join, have no way of finding out about the munches and play events where they can meet kinky people. You have left them isolated in a vicious circle and made it impossible for us, as a community, to reach out and welcome them. Do not deny them the opportunities we all had.

It’s Painful but Is It Art?

Playing in public at clubs means that you are going to be watched. There are those who find this a distraction.  I realised early on that I didn’t and remember an occasion, early on in my domming career when I was so absorbed in the scene that I didn’t notice that a dozen people had gathered round, in silence, to watch. It was only when I turned round to select another toy to hit my sub with that I saw them, totally absorbed in what I was doing. But I was more absorbed still and pleased that only my play partner existed fort me in that hour. That is as it should be. We play for each other and not to put on a show. Or do we?

I find that at the big public events, such as the Birmingham Bizarre Bazaar or Cirque de Chaos play primarily is about putting on a show. The noise and general business make it difficult to get into the required headspace, on the one hand, and I also found it difficult to read the verbal and non-verbal signals from my sub that I need in order to pace the scene properly. I think I tend to err on the side of caution in these circumstances although my slave would probably beg to disagree. I also worry about losing equipment as has happened a couple of times over the years.

I think that, in a sense, all play is performance, even private play without an audience.   I once had a conversation with a highly experienced pro domme who told me that domination was all in the head and that she could dominate any one of her regular clients in sweatshirt, jeans and Uggs. Allowing for the possibility that there are people out there with an Ugg fetish, I don’t entirely agree. When we play we are taking ourselves out of the drab real world for an hour or two, we are creating our own theatre and the costumes we wear are part of the fantasy we create.  The aesthetics of BDSM  have become increasingly important to me over the last year or so. I have a range of traditional fetish out fits in PVC and latex and so on, but have also played in a schoolmatronly skirt suit, in my lovely Vivien of Holloway repro vintage. The latter can be quite disconcerting. Latex, PVC and boots are the sartorial language of sadism and dominance. Feminine 1950s repro vintage isn’t. It can be hard to come to terms with a girly girl in a cerise rose circle dress and pink petticoat who smiles as he wields the cane and the whip, who hurts and humiliates with genuine relish. It is, as they say, a mindfuck.

The dressing up, the make up, the attention to detail are as important as the planning of the session, the skill in using the toys. It is an act of self giving to turn myself into the Goddess that my slave needs me to be, to help him into the headspace, to lure him into the theatre where he can be his true self, where he and I indulge our fantasies and where the pain and the marks I inflict are balm for the stresses  of daily life. Let the curtain rise!

Bristol Again

What sticks in the memory about Eroticon is often not the sessions, interesting and stimulating though they are. It is, for me at least, conversations, impressions, and the thoughts inspired by these that I treasure, and the feeling that is has been an enormous privilege to spend an intensive weekend in the company of seriously bright people who are totally into sex, sexuality, kink and all things related.

Here are some memories of 2016 (in no particular order).

Discussing needle play over breakfast with Remittance Girl, who was able to capture from a theoretical perspective why it could be seen as deeply transgressive, this as I ate a sausage and egg sandwich.

The wonderful Off Centre cafe, superb breakfasts, great coffee and a really friendly atmosphere.

A spanking lesson from Pandora Blake with huge thanks to Simon Spanked for agreeing to be spanked by me so that I could practice.

Overcoming my nerves to read in the final session and trying probably unsuccessfully, to hide my embarrassment as DJ Fet  straightened my dress., a part of which had become tucked into my panties.

Ashley Lister’s anal poem, a riot of glorious bad taste.

Making a flogger, a cute little pink one. I think I know whose cock that is going to be used on.

Talking about the awfulness of radical feminism with Girl on The Net over a cigarette. I’ve been a target too and they didn’t even know I was trans!

The unceasing loveliness of F Leonora Solomon, including dinner with her on the first evening where we joined by the equally lovely @ouizzi and @exposing 40 and feeling bad because I hadn’t submitted anything for Leonora’s anthologies. I will, I promise.

An impromptu rope lesson from Charlie J Forrest in the bar with thanks to the Other Livvy for being my bunny (well as much as anyone can be for me with my non-existent skills!)

Discovering in the bar on the last evening that Anna Sky is a fellow Vivette (that’s a lady who wears Vivien of Holloway dresses by the way).  That’s now at least five of us in the kinky Vivette sisterhood. I’d love to hear from anyone else.

And, prior to that, persuading Exhibit A that  he really needs to buy a Viv men’s shirt or two.

And Eye for being Eye, generous, funny and clever.

Outing myself to Kay Jaybee  who has known me for two years on social media under a different name.

Shutting my eyes to hear Jonathan aka Earotica  read the good version of the story extract he had written to illustrate his talk and realising what a lovely voice he has. I could listen to him for hours…….

Space doesn’t allow me to mention everyone and apologies if I missed you. I just want to say that every conversation I had enriched my experience. Thanks to everyone I engaged with. I was actually quite  taken by Michael Knight’s idea of buying an island and us all going there. I think I would burn the boats though!

There is one person I haven’t mentioned yet and that is Ruby. As you know, Ruby, you have indirectly changed my life.  We have never really had much time to talk and I hope we do one day get the opportunity. I am totally in awe of your dedication and hard work in making this event happen, again and again. I know, too, that it is not only my life that has changed through Eroticon. You can be so, so proud of what you have done. Thank you!

Ruby is bowing out and has gone out at the top as the great sportswomen do.  I don’t know what is happening behind the scenes to get somebody else to take it on, but I do know this: Eroticon is too wonderful, too beautiful an event to be allowed to die.  I know too that we WILL all meet again.