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Calling Local Kinksters and Beautiful Freaky People
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Calling Local Kinksters and Beautiful Freaky People
I attended an invitation only kink party last week and I must say I was terribly disappointed. I was hoping for some Eyes Wide Shut Heiros Gamos type of action not flabby boys running around in those elephant underwear, you know, the sort where one puts his penis in the trunk of the elephant.Nor baudy little basic girls in fairy costumes, the type of which can be found at Cindy's for 29.99.
Now, my tastes are not terribly kinky. Personally, I like a bit of spanking and hair pulling and that's it. I'm not inclined to be racked and welted nor penetrated with that which would cause cardiac arrest in a brood mare. Admittedly what I did not understand about myself until I attended that party is that I very much enjoy being a voyeur, and that I harbored quite dom tendencies.
I found I actually loved sitting on a chair on a raised dais watching the flogging and naked revelry around me in my profoundly elaborate outfit while some rather nude and groveling boys and girls attended to me like slaves, offering to bring me cocktails (they did), kissing my hand (they did) and licking my shoes (oh I loved that). Two generous men became my living footstools for about an hour with me digging my stilettos into their bare flesh, especially that tender peninsula of flesh at the crux of their supple thighs.(my La Perlas could barely contain my joy at this) And I delighted in severely cropping an insolent young girl who had the poor fortune of bringing me white instead of red wine. I found I very much enjoyed the dichotomy of adulation for me, and humiliation for them.
But I am nothing if not a true lover of the aesthetic. I love pretty things, I love pretty people, I love pretty environments. What I loathed was the setting. A shack essentially with dirty mattresses and couches stolen off the porches of indigent persons. An appalling choice of beverages was offered, I mean these distillations dreamed of being speed rack quality, and the the people, well there were too many of them and while I truly applaud and enjoyed their openness and hospitality they were a bit too bromidic for my taste.
Are there smaller parties at finer venues, perhaps those of us who would like to met out punishments and rewards in suits and gowns with a well crafted cocktail or two at the ready? Could I be so bougie as to wonder if there are just a few, perhaps 10 or so fellow petite bourgeoisie attractive and naughty 35-55 year old men and women who would be interested in such a thing? Nice large suite at a hotel? Rented condo on the lake? Someone's private house?
Ah well, one can give oneself over to fantasy right? If you could participate in something like this what would you like to see?
Ahh to the perceived excess of the bourgeoisie. I must admit I find most (but not all) "light dom" gatherings to be the cable porn version of affaires. Skinadom? If there truly was something as formal as you describe, attended by those that know couture from costume, and the appropriate occasion for each. That know the difference between a sparkling white, champagne, and vintages not served in a strip club. Attendees that know their role and revel in it.
If such a thing can even exist in the laid back, hippy meca of our fair town, I would be interested, but only if there is a throne next to yours Miss Valebtina; fit for your equal, and not your subordinate.
If you beg for a ritualistic sexual escapade ala "Eyes Wide Shut," then you must sacrifice your bourgeoisie and join the ranks of the illuminated elite.
Gotta hand it to aristocrats; they're parasites, but they're parasites that know how to par-tay.
Sometimes Eyes Wide Shut is what you expect and Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS is what you get (don't look at me like that, I didn't make a film in horrifically bad taste.)
I'm not much of an actor, but I might be inclined to provide live music (maybe some Scriabin or Shoenber?). Anything to be a fly on the boudoir wall of Madame Valebtina (whoever that is).
Well gents, this post certainly filled my inbox with encouragement and suggestions. Seems there are more than a few people here who would like a challenge to their usual appetites.
Bob, never my subordinate, we would be Maitress and Master of Ceremonies. I doubt you could find a pair better suited for such a task.
I would happily give up my bougie status to join the Illuminati Elite. You people know how to party.
You know Centaur, I'm very familiar with the Hellfire Club so it's great you posted that I feel like I'm a one-woman member inheretrix of these people, wise but incredibly wild. One only needs to read a bit of the Marquis de Sade's personal philosophies to understand that in addition to being perverted aristocratic entitled wench fucking debauchees to the 10th degree, they were also good wits. The two are not mutually exclusive. As demonstrated by...well...you, me, and Bob McV.
In honor of the Hellfire Club, let me approximate a little ditty:
I pray by Wallet or by Prick,
You don't ever find yourself Valentina sick.
Now imagine sitting down with 7-10 well other well dressed men in a beautiful room, curtains open to the skyline, beautiful lighting, fresh cut flowers on the tables. I'm pouring the champagne and lubricating the evening with my wit. You notice a little white remote control on your plates and then these girls enter in their matching Agent Provacateur....
When they are standing at attention around the table, I direct you to flick on the little remote one by one and you are delighted to hear that a slight buzzing sound begins to come from the panties of the ladies. The lady being stimulated by the device that correlates to your remote becomes your attendant for the dinner service and after.
In fairness, Sade penned his best known manuscript, 120 Days of Sodom, from a cell in the Bastille. When you're too perverted for even the French aristocracy, that's when you know you've transcended to the eleventh degree. Of course the revolutionaries elected him to the legislature of the First Republic, but they rolled so many heads that they probably thought him quaint.
Well gents, this post certainly filled my inbox with encouragement and suggestions. Seems there are more than a few people here who would like a challenge to their usual appetites.
Bob, never my subordinate, we would be Maitress and Master of Ceremonies. I doubt you could find a pair better suited for such a task.
.:SNIP:.
It would be so much fun, if only to prove for one and to all that I am not a mere extension of your psyche. (Or to prove to only myself (yourself?) that I am!)
My Bio Page - Texas - Austin
Calling Local Kinksters and Beautiful Freaky People
