Our Big Night Out.

DeaconX's Fetish Night

“Portland's own monthly Fetish Dance and Play Party”

It is all a jumble of pictures in my head, underscored with a deafening driving beat of music, music so loud you can feel it deep in your belly.  But the memory of the music fades to a hum and the images remain.

Men swinging whips, nude female bodies writhing and twisting as they absorb the pain, faces, dozens and dozens of faces watching.  Men, asses bare, bent over a spanking bench being paddled by statuesque women.  People dancing, talking, staring at one another in open lascivious appreciation.  (After all, it is a kinky dress up party after all.)  Tattoos and corsets, kilts and leather and chains, smiles and eyes.  Young and old, smooth and hairy, tall and short, thick and thin... able bodied and disabled.  (I actually bumped into a white cane of a blind guy... a blind guy that asked me the way to the dungeon.  But later I watched him, watched him watching me and our eyes met and he greeted me... "Hows it going?"  Seriously wonder how blind he really was.  But he seemed to be having a great time bumping into people.)

Master looked good in his new black clothes.  The leather vest was the perfect touch.  My short black skirt and long lacy legs were only remarkable on the street as we walked to the venue.  I got some serious looks from a couple of guys in a car.  I could see them talking to each other about me.  Inside, we were as Master so astutely pointed out on the way there, vanilla wrapped in black.  We looked pretty normal... even on the conservative side of kinky.   

But I could tell I looked good and got my fair share of looks, just as I was giving my fair share of looks back.  The whole room was crammed, crowded and stuffed with exotic amazing people.

We stood and watched a couple, she must have been over sixty and he looked about seventy five.  She was slender, even dainty, with an awesome body and beautiful skin.  (I wish I looked that good now.)  He looked like something from a Tim Burton animation, ancient, bent, and just a little scary.  We watched them as he positioned her against a wrack, put a leather hood over her face and did all kinds of things to her, snapped her with rubber bands, ran wartenburg wheel over her skin, put rubber bands on her nipples, paddled, caned, flogged and single tailed her.  They were close, only about eight feet away across the row of dividing tables.  It was riveting.  And behind them were at least four other couples doing equally fascinating things.

I remember having Master take my hair into his fist and leaning down and sinking his teeth into my neck.  And then later, using me like an ice breaker, his fist in my hair and fingers slipped through the back of my collar, pulling it tight enough to feel the first hints of strangulation and steering me around the room, shoving me through the press of bodies toward the back door and the small sanctuary from the soul and ear shattering music.  But it was cold out there and I would stand next to him my arms wrapped around myself shivering and soon we would return, to look and be looked at.  

We only stayed a couple of hours.  It was all Master could stand.  But it was our first public play party, first time watching other people doing kinky things.

I would love to go again... but that is going to up to Master.  We will see.  If we do go back, next time I will put some earplugs into my bag.  Maybe we will be able to stay a little longer. 

Friday Fashion show.

So I had on the school girl outfit when he got home.

And the first words out of his mouth were "Just don't start."  And he had definite storm clouds over his head.  Work sucked, the commute sucked more.  He was just not in the mood.  But he was careful to clarify, "It's not you.  I am just grouchy."  But he brought in a box that the UPS man had left on the front porch... a box with a leather vest in it. 

Careful not to start... careful to not even talk or meet his eyes... I grabbed the box and moved to the other side of the room to open it.  It was either the leather vest or the Hitachi vibrator.  I wasn't sure which I was most hopeful for.  He could not resist walking over and peering over my shoulder... "What is that?"

By then I was in deep enough to catch the whiff of leather and gleefully held it up.  "Something kinky for you to wear on Sunday!"  I could not help the excited tone or the little wiggle of convulsive enthusiasm.  Maybe it was the smell of the leather.  And I am infectious.  Slowly he grins and chuckles at my antics.  His eyes slide over me and he comments that I look cute.

I pose and twist and look surprised, "Oh this old thing?"

Then I laugh and  dance around a bit.  "I was trying on different fetish outfits.  I have a couple others laid out to change into when you are in the mood."

Already all memory of the "grouchy" seems to be erased and he grins.  "You go ahead.  I will smoke and come in and see what you have next."

So I raced off to my room and pull one some shiny spandex and my corset and some boots.

He comes in and spends an amazing amount of time adjusting the laces of my corset.  Not only must they be perfect but the tightness, line across the bottom and top must be exactly perfect.  He is very picky.  His hands are all over me, tugging at this waist line, that string.  But in the end the shiny legs were ruled out.  Not feminine enough.

I tried pulling a skirt on over the legging but that was a quick "no".  "Don't you have any fish net stockings?"

Okay... off to the lingerie drawer and a selection of various garters, thigh highs and pantie hose.  A pair of textured lacy thigh highs were peremptorily chosen.  "Those."  And it was kind of disconcerting to have him insist that the lines of the lace on the stockings be perfectly vertical. 

So we ended up with this.

But they are thigh high stockings... which means that if I lean over even a little bit...

Um... well... you can see... um... yes that is it... you CAN see.

Now KellyRed was of the definite opinion that I should have a poll or let you guys vote on what I would wear, but in reality... It is not a democracy around here.  If I don't get a vote... you guys sure don't.

Oh and when we were all done and I was putting my Friday night sweats back on, I got a demonstration of how it feels to wear handcuffs and have your ass thoroughly spatulated.  (I really, really need to find a place to lose that spatula into.)  The handcuffs hurt if you struggle.  I definitely learned a lot about predicament bondage.  Arms or ass?  Arms or ass?  And you learn quickly it is not arms OR ass... it is ass ouchie alla time and I get to choose whether I want my arms to hurt too. 

I squalled at some point, "Why are you spanking me????"  Because in my head I had thought that I had been a very good girl. 

And he grabbed a handful of hair and held my face down to the bed and then picked me up to stand on my tip toes as he continued to swat the crap out of me.

It was only later that he answered my question... with a question.  "Why are you questioning "Why"?"

I cringed, my ass still glowing and sizzling.  "Um... I just wanted to better understand your reasoning????... Master????"

He smirked.  "Because I can.  Because I wanted to."

Oh yes, that was perfect.  Him owning that he wants to hurt me.  Absolutely perfect.