Criminy
What a weekend. It is possible to have too much fun.
Friday night: surprise Skank Mitzvah for Betty at a strip club. We'd told her it was going to be a staff meeting so we could plan her Skank Mitzvah. She was completely fooled. Either that, or she's really good at faking it. I think we fooled her. She had a great night, though. She got one of the dancers really drunk and we kept her in ropes all night. She didn't want to take them off even when it was her time on stage. Betty got one of Blackpearl's custom-made floggers in pink, mauve and black, as well as a gift from a Pavlovian emeritus. It took the male patrons awhile to get used to the idea of a huge group of women being in there for the same reason they were, but they chilled out after awhile. We bought Betty a couple of lap dances with the drunk dancer, but we were keeping her so busy getting tied up and spanked, she never got around to delivering the dances. I think we got our money's worth in entertainment, but Betty told her she owes her and the nice lady agreed. Bwaa ha ha. I think four different dancers licked my head through the course of the evening. I had nekkid boobies rubbed all over my mohawk more times than I can count and I went through all the dollar bills I'd brought with me and a few more donated by helpful submissives. Thank you, helpful submissives! The dancers were all curious what our group was, and when we'd tell them, they'd be just fascinated and want to know all about how they could learn how to do that stuff, too. The dancer we'd put ropes on got tipped like crazy when Betty walked her around the club using the ropes as a leash and had patrons putting money into the rope harness. I think it was a very good night in tips for her.
AND YES, CHRISTIAN, WE GOT SOME PHOTOS FOR THE SITE!
Saturday night: fetish ball in Colorado Springs. I thought it might turn out to be some little podunk club and there'd be a handful of people, but no. It was freakin' huge, as well as being at a gay bar, which I didn't realize and was wondering why a table full of dykes got whiplash when I walked in the door with equipment bags, a mohawk and a bunch of makeup. I thought maybe I had something in my teeth or my zipper was down or something, til I started looking around and picking up on all the subtle clues ::cough::. Rainbow flags, group of women playing poker and not giggling, short haircuts and lack of pastels... hey! HEY! The evening might just turn out to be something different! I hadn't been out to a gay bar in ages. Totally forgot what that was like. It was weird that they were mostly vanilla in the part of the bar where the event wasn't happening, so it felt odd, feeling both at home with queer chicks and on foreign soil because they were vanilla. I got used to all the queer chicks I know also being kinky.
I was still completely wiped out from Friday night and feeling wonky before we got there and I got through the whole night on sheer adrenalin. Ana, Betty and I went with a couple of other people and Puck the Service Puffball and had an incredibly good time, I got to beat a delightful man as my performance and he outshone by orders of magnitude the annoying stripper guy who demanded I hit him as hard as I could. Yawn. We went to Waffle House afterwards (I'd never been before - how is that place so popular?) and my adrenalin wore off in the middle of breakfast. I had to go lie down in the car and was in pretty bad shape from two days of go go go go go and not enough rest. Shakes, full-body agony, nausea and the weepies. It was like PMS plus the flu all at once. I still haven't caught up on rest and I think I'm going to have to go see a foot doctor cuz I'm finally realizing that I really, truly cannot wear high heels anymore without being in nauseating, limping, mind-numbing agony. I think I must've broken a toe at some point. I dunno. I need orthopedic fetish shoes.
The Colorado Springs scene was a really nice change. There was a lot more ethnic diversity, and that felt a lot more comfortable, since that's how I grew up. There's a big military base down there, which probably accounts for people not feeling any particular need to "stick with their own kind", like you see more in civilian areas. I do wish we had more of that in Denver. The scene here seems so overwhelmingly white and I didn't realize how much I'd missed having things more balanced out. There was also a big gay male leather presence at the bar, and that was quite refreshing, too. Ana's gayboy fetish kicked into overdrive last night. A domme from the Springs was there and provided most of the dungeon equipment and it was nice to get to chat off and on between beatings and bondage and electricity and working the crowd. She was pretty cool. I think her name might have been Michelle, but it was loud and I can't remember.
A photographer got some really incredible shots of me during my performance. I hope I can find his card. There were several photographers there taking shots while I was singletailing the bottom, and I kept trying to give them quick poses so they could get some good shots, but every time I looked in the direction of one of them and aimed a toy at him, he thought I was trying to hit him, so he'd present a body part for me to hit. I'd shake my head, keep the pose, and point my chin at the camera. No dice. I finally had to hit him so he'd stop cringing and waiting for the hit, just so I could get on with the real beating. Some of them can't be used because they got the bottom's face in the shot, but that's OK: he didn't sign up to be a fetish model.
There had to be one drunk guy insisting I hit him as hard as I could. There's one at every show at a club where alcohol is served, and sometimes it's a woman. This one was physically beautiful and a complete turnoff. I'd give him a lick with the meanest singletail I'd brought with me and he'd scream, give me an exasperated look, remember he had a crowd watching, and then demand that no, THIS time I should REALLY put some muscle into it and maybe get a good run up so I could make him feel it. Right. Cuz that's how singletails work. You get a run up like you do with cricket if you want to really get serious on someone's buttocks. I wish I'd had our cricket bat with us. He'd have a crushed pelvis to brag about today. I don't respond to well to drunk vanilla people telling me how to use my tools, especially when he'd just watched me using them the correct way for a good long time. I actually handed him the singletail at one point and gestured for him to use it on himself, since he seemed to be the expert. That's a lot to convey in a gesture, and he seemed to think I was inviting him to use it on me. I mimed the international sign language for self-flagellation and he demurred. Yeah. Thought so.
Overall, the weekend was complete overstim in the best ways. I'm still exhausted and now I hab a code. Thags, whoever gave it to be. I would like to return the favor. Fess up and I'll go easy on you.
From Friday night, The Pavlovians:
Friday night: surprise Skank Mitzvah for Betty at a strip club. We'd told her it was going to be a staff meeting so we could plan her Skank Mitzvah. She was completely fooled. Either that, or she's really good at faking it. I think we fooled her. She had a great night, though. She got one of the dancers really drunk and we kept her in ropes all night. She didn't want to take them off even when it was her time on stage. Betty got one of Blackpearl's custom-made floggers in pink, mauve and black, as well as a gift from a Pavlovian emeritus. It took the male patrons awhile to get used to the idea of a huge group of women being in there for the same reason they were, but they chilled out after awhile. We bought Betty a couple of lap dances with the drunk dancer, but we were keeping her so busy getting tied up and spanked, she never got around to delivering the dances. I think we got our money's worth in entertainment, but Betty told her she owes her and the nice lady agreed. Bwaa ha ha. I think four different dancers licked my head through the course of the evening. I had nekkid boobies rubbed all over my mohawk more times than I can count and I went through all the dollar bills I'd brought with me and a few more donated by helpful submissives. Thank you, helpful submissives! The dancers were all curious what our group was, and when we'd tell them, they'd be just fascinated and want to know all about how they could learn how to do that stuff, too. The dancer we'd put ropes on got tipped like crazy when Betty walked her around the club using the ropes as a leash and had patrons putting money into the rope harness. I think it was a very good night in tips for her.
AND YES, CHRISTIAN, WE GOT SOME PHOTOS FOR THE SITE!
Saturday night: fetish ball in Colorado Springs. I thought it might turn out to be some little podunk club and there'd be a handful of people, but no. It was freakin' huge, as well as being at a gay bar, which I didn't realize and was wondering why a table full of dykes got whiplash when I walked in the door with equipment bags, a mohawk and a bunch of makeup. I thought maybe I had something in my teeth or my zipper was down or something, til I started looking around and picking up on all the subtle clues ::cough::. Rainbow flags, group of women playing poker and not giggling, short haircuts and lack of pastels... hey! HEY! The evening might just turn out to be something different! I hadn't been out to a gay bar in ages. Totally forgot what that was like. It was weird that they were mostly vanilla in the part of the bar where the event wasn't happening, so it felt odd, feeling both at home with queer chicks and on foreign soil because they were vanilla. I got used to all the queer chicks I know also being kinky.
I was still completely wiped out from Friday night and feeling wonky before we got there and I got through the whole night on sheer adrenalin. Ana, Betty and I went with a couple of other people and Puck the Service Puffball and had an incredibly good time, I got to beat a delightful man as my performance and he outshone by orders of magnitude the annoying stripper guy who demanded I hit him as hard as I could. Yawn. We went to Waffle House afterwards (I'd never been before - how is that place so popular?) and my adrenalin wore off in the middle of breakfast. I had to go lie down in the car and was in pretty bad shape from two days of go go go go go and not enough rest. Shakes, full-body agony, nausea and the weepies. It was like PMS plus the flu all at once. I still haven't caught up on rest and I think I'm going to have to go see a foot doctor cuz I'm finally realizing that I really, truly cannot wear high heels anymore without being in nauseating, limping, mind-numbing agony. I think I must've broken a toe at some point. I dunno. I need orthopedic fetish shoes.
The Colorado Springs scene was a really nice change. There was a lot more ethnic diversity, and that felt a lot more comfortable, since that's how I grew up. There's a big military base down there, which probably accounts for people not feeling any particular need to "stick with their own kind", like you see more in civilian areas. I do wish we had more of that in Denver. The scene here seems so overwhelmingly white and I didn't realize how much I'd missed having things more balanced out. There was also a big gay male leather presence at the bar, and that was quite refreshing, too. Ana's gayboy fetish kicked into overdrive last night. A domme from the Springs was there and provided most of the dungeon equipment and it was nice to get to chat off and on between beatings and bondage and electricity and working the crowd. She was pretty cool. I think her name might have been Michelle, but it was loud and I can't remember.
A photographer got some really incredible shots of me during my performance. I hope I can find his card. There were several photographers there taking shots while I was singletailing the bottom, and I kept trying to give them quick poses so they could get some good shots, but every time I looked in the direction of one of them and aimed a toy at him, he thought I was trying to hit him, so he'd present a body part for me to hit. I'd shake my head, keep the pose, and point my chin at the camera. No dice. I finally had to hit him so he'd stop cringing and waiting for the hit, just so I could get on with the real beating. Some of them can't be used because they got the bottom's face in the shot, but that's OK: he didn't sign up to be a fetish model.
There had to be one drunk guy insisting I hit him as hard as I could. There's one at every show at a club where alcohol is served, and sometimes it's a woman. This one was physically beautiful and a complete turnoff. I'd give him a lick with the meanest singletail I'd brought with me and he'd scream, give me an exasperated look, remember he had a crowd watching, and then demand that no, THIS time I should REALLY put some muscle into it and maybe get a good run up so I could make him feel it. Right. Cuz that's how singletails work. You get a run up like you do with cricket if you want to really get serious on someone's buttocks. I wish I'd had our cricket bat with us. He'd have a crushed pelvis to brag about today. I don't respond to well to drunk vanilla people telling me how to use my tools, especially when he'd just watched me using them the correct way for a good long time. I actually handed him the singletail at one point and gestured for him to use it on himself, since he seemed to be the expert. That's a lot to convey in a gesture, and he seemed to think I was inviting him to use it on me. I mimed the international sign language for self-flagellation and he demurred. Yeah. Thought so.
Overall, the weekend was complete overstim in the best ways. I'm still exhausted and now I hab a code. Thags, whoever gave it to be. I would like to return the favor. Fess up and I'll go easy on you.
From Friday night, The Pavlovians: