Some of my fav Black Licorice Designs
Thank goodness I rediscovered my blogging rhythm. As I have many MANY stories to tell…..
Again this year I had the pleasure of walking the catwalk at the Montreal Fetish Weekend, where there never seems to be a shortage of fine latex artisans. Last year I walked for Collective Chaos who wowed me SO much I asked A. Chaos to design most of my wedding costume. This year I was lucky enough to walk for two designers: Skin Tight, and Black Licorice Latex. My Skin Tight dress was beautiful, and I was honored to be a last minute edition to their set. But I must say this year I fell in love with Black Licorice. The designs are so couture, so detailed, with embellishments like pearl strands and burn out patterns that each piece succeeds in tricking you as to whether or not it’s latex or in fact well draped mystery textile. Seeing these kinds of innovators in the fetish fashion world help seduce me into loving latex even though I am a pretty staunch knitwear worshiper.
The modeling world is always one that overwhelms me, the emphasis on looks does frequently threaten to revive old body/face issues I used to suffer from. But I was lucky to be rooming with two very well established, very confident/professional well knowns: Marlo Marquise and Sharon TK. I know I know, I was swimming in super hot fetish pussy, I could have auctioned my space in the bed next to Marlo off for a pretty nice sum I’m sure. But mostly I just wanted to listen and learn, they both are so beautiful and talented I would have been a FOOL not to soak up all the hair/makeup/posing/industry tips they were just giving away. I just tried to keep my wandering eyes to myself when people where changing, and tried to make friends. I endeared myself to Ms. TK by turning her name in a mantra, which became the over arching motto for the weekend. When times are great or when they’re tough just: “Sharon TK bitches, SHARON TK!” you really have to emphasize the last Sharon TK to get the experience, but if done right it really accents any happenstance well.
That said Sharon TK bitches, SHARON TK!!!!!!!
I’m lucky that I get to call Marlo one of my best friends, I never pass up getting to do anything with her. I like tagging along like a puppy with a mohawk, and on trips I make for a good traveling pharmacy…always have creams and oils to share. I’ll let you imagine me rubbing oils into Marlo’s delicate porcelain back (cause that did happen) (and yes I briefly touched her boob). Also I’ll let you imagine Sharon TK giving me lap dance (because that also happened, Marlo has it on tape).
Everybody meet Marlo <3 (she ALSO has a blog called “Confessions of a Knife”)
This is Sharon Tk (bitches)
See what I mean? Swimming in HOT FETISH ACTION like a starving barracuda. I really did try to snag some non-roomie pussy BUT my freshly broken by my dream girl heart just wasn’t in the game.
On a lighter less pervy note i must mention that I also wound up hanging out with the unforgettable Jade Vixen, since Marlo and Sharon KNOW EVERYONE. I had in fact met her last year briefly, but never got to speak with her. She’s lovely, but whats even cooler than her being nice is that she’s a genius. She asked me about a crystal I was wearing on a necklace…I told her what little I knew about it, then she proceeded to reel off a ton of scientific information telling me about formations and how they grow- then she (with her seeming boundless energy) herded us all to the best ice cream parlor in Montreal (with the exception of Sharon because she is admirably vegan). AMAZING. I love when a sex icon turns out to be a cultivated intellectual.
Aside from all the latex and boobies, I had myself a nice little growing experience. You see I have come of age reading bdsm literature and studying fetishism, but my few attempts at playing it out have left allot to be desired. All the slaves I met were too pushy and predictable, self centered without the necessary self reflection. And the few fetishists I’ve played with came along at the worst time in my life sofar as confidence and compassion were concerned. Not to mention my one very failed attempt at being a slave myself. I will note it wasn’t for lack of passion. But needless to say I have been waiting, waiting to feel in my bones what Masoch wrote about so long ago…..and I’m happy to report I felt it!
You see at these kinds of events people generally assume I’m a dom, though I don’t really like to label myself. This assumption usually is the first thing in an off-putting conversation. One where frequently a man asks me to do things to him, without first asking me if its okay to speak to me! That’s always the quick killer. I always want to shout “WHERE ARE YOUR MANNERS!”, but usually I just fill them in on my apathetic feelings towards their desire and they loose interest because I don’t live up to the brutality of my image. This year though I decided to shake things up, when a sad excuse for a slave asked to kiss my shoes, I told him to “go ahead” and when he complained that we were in too public a place (at the party) I let him know he was pathetic and he must not really want to. With that nudge he did get down on all fours and love my heels in front of the room. This year I was defiantly in the mood to discover if like mythical unicorns “really good” slaves do exist.
And sure enough I met one. I don’t know his name, all I know is he gives a mean lube massage, and he wears a spiked chastity belt well. But Mr. Zero as I’ll call him absolutely changed my life. He first made his presence known to me at the main night of fashion shows, where without being obvious he started helpfully volunteering information to me about individual models and performers. He stood back at a respectful distance and lightly explained backgrounds and talents in a way that was genuinely interesting but also decidedly un-showy/chauvinistic. He didn’t make any sexual demands or flirtatious overtures, he just sincerely wanted to share information he thought might be enjoyable, he did it quietly and timed it perfectly between bits so as not to distract me from what was actually taking place on stage. It took me about five minutes to catch onto his game, and when I was ready to leave I thanked him using my most direct eye contact and my deepest tone of voice, and he smiled the satisfied smile of a slave who has been good.
This intrigued me……
But I was distracted, and working. I didn’t make an effort to examine our exchange until I accidentally ran into him the next night when I stepped into the lube station. As I said I was fallowing Marlo and Sharon around trying to pretend like “oh yeah I wear latex all the time, and yeah I have a lube station in my house, yeah…”. When I opened the flap to the tent and was greeted by a surprising sight. There he was again, “putting his services to use” as he described it. Giving professional massage over the recipients latex costume with obscene amounts of lube. And when he asked if anyone wanted to be next, of course I barked “I DO”.
Sharon and Marlo opted for the quick and slippery massage free whilst standing lube experience but I wanted to risk disappointment in my new friend and get the lie down version. I wanted to see if this would be like many other massages I’ve had from supposedly submissive men, where though they claim to serve you they sneak their hands into places they should know better than to wander into. I was testing him in his devotion to his vocation, and he knew it. He laid me down, made me comfortable, and though I was wearing a short skirt and no panties he performed an entirely chaste job. He even stood me up and lubed each individual ruffle (front and back) on my top, because rather than use the opportunity he had to touch me intimately without permission for his own selfish satisfaction: he clearly got even greater satisfaction from earning my compliments and helping me look my best for the party. It really was the act of service that got him off, and he was going to initiate his own servitude because that was in fact his total agenda. He respected my obvious challenge of his motivations and in spite of our pretty hot chemistry remained a VERY good boy. In those moments in the tent I was proved wrong, there are honest to god slave out there….ones who desire to attract a master through demonstration of their pure and happy self discipline.
Until now I could never see myself taking on a slave, I didn’t have the hunger. I always supposed it stemmed from my personal history with low self confidence or track record with flat out sadistic men. But no, Mr. Zero made me realize I had just never encountered the kind of selfless preening, the clear and sensual demonstration of a pure desire to serve that naturally fosters others to take control command. Domination requires real and honest submission, Mr. Zero helped me find what I’d been missing….and it goes without sayin that when I got up from his massage table I made sure to give him the most intense full body hug I could, whispering in his ear what a good job he did. He smiled that same smile, and I left the tent a new ladyboi….a hungry ladyboi….
Really I learned all this just in time for the wedding ; *
Thanks Montreal, like I said in my Perv Radio interview “you have the BEST slaves”
Marlo, Sharon, and me <3
I’d like to add a post script inspired by the very eloquent Arden Leigh: when in this post I refer to the term “real slave” I’m not referring to the concept of being endowed by a role at birth. I do not think one is a born a dom or a slave, in this instance I mean to illustrate the difference between one who uses the title for a dishonest end versus the “real” slave, one who desires discipline plainly. And is not using it as a means to abuse a willing dom.