At Club Pedestal

I have finally been to Pedestal. This was actually my first ever event outside the West Midlands.  I guess I had been a bit reluctant to go to an event in London having heard the stories about how unfriendly people, kinky people too, in the Big Smoke. I needn’t have worried. I met my friend Voodoo Queen at the Beehive pub near The Oval which is a regular pre Pedestal meeting place and we soon got chatting to other out of town kinksters, including a few out of country people. Then there were a couple of familiar faces from Birmingham. WE chatted, drank and soon it was time to head off.

The club where this is held is in the arches underneath Vauxhall station, and is a much bigger place than you realise when you go in, with several side rooms and a large outdoor area at the back. WE wtached the performances, we danced, we chatted to people (and there, of all places, the “what are you doing here” line seemed particularly bizarre) and I did a bit of trampling in the trample cage.

But Pedestal is not really a place to play. Rather you go to show off your fetish finery, people watch and absorb the atmosphere.  And it was fun, eevn though I didn’t last till 5 am. Actually we were offered a lift back to Birmingham so the 5.27 train from Euston had to manage without us.

An enjoyable evening then, just a shame I didn’t get to catch up with Trample Temptress who was still on te door when we left. Next time I will try and go the distance. Back in Birmingham I went to my local cafe for a full English breakfast and a mug of sweet tea before heading home to bed, just as my neighbours were setting off for work. and, you know, lying in  bed can be a great way to spend a day. Particularly with so many pleasant memories.

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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.