The Perverted Negress • kinkfest

And that’s a wrap.

Mar 312009

I want to thank the folks at Kinkfest once again. What a well-run event, and how much of an honor it is to be able to spend time there. Even if I weren’t presenting, I’d attend KinkFest. They do a smashing job. Skin Two: Electric Boogaloo. Deepest Kudos to Mike. His patience and generosity towards me were remarkable.

These days, going to BDSM events is no longer a “Vacation” from “Real life” for me. Alternative Lifestyle stuff IS my job right now. And so it is kind of surreal to wake up after spending 4 days awash in leather and kink and think “OK, back to…umm…back to the porn and the cock-shots and the videos of people conducting themselves scandalously!”

People often ask me if I’ve “Had a good time?” at BDSM events, once I return. Usually they want to hear tales of ribaldry, hot scenes, sordid sex, tawdry encounters…I can say I haven’t many. In the past year, I’ve been asked to play at a BDSM event…once. I’m not complaining about that. I’d trade any number of standard-issue scenes for that particular encounter.

But it is an odd rift to receive the support and awesome feedback that I do when I present and, at the end of the night, go back to my room alone. This might sound pathetic, but I avoided even going to the Dungeon playspace because the thought of watching so much of the energy and heat and connection that permeates big play parties race past me and know I had no outlet was too daunting a prospect.

At the end of the weekend, a friend I’ve gotten to know a bit online who was also in attendance was kind enough to come to meet me for breakfast. As I was pissing and moaning being single at a big KinkCon, he pointed out that it isn’t always easy for dominants and tops to approach submissives. Not that I was unapproachable, but that the whole situation is skewed.

So…dominants have a tough time approaching submissives?

Yeah, I know, they’re only human.

But Jeebus, ain’t that their fucking job? To swagger in, grab you by the throat and sweep you to your knees?

Yeah, way to set the bar impossibly high, Mo.

I realize I have a rather unique set of benchmarks for my submission. I’ve rarely done anything that would look like a kinky courtship. My history is such that I’ve been pretty much smitten from the get-go by anyone towards whom I was inclined to submit. I have knee-jerk visceral reactions and voila, I’m on the ground in tears wondering what truck hit me.

I love that.

And that is a tall order.

I’m not unapproachable. I know I am easy to talk to, to embrace, that I listen well. I know I am compassionate with people, and I’d never be harsh or cruel. But that does not, my friend assured me, make it any easier for people, especially dominants, to make that approach.

On the one hand fine. I mean, if you don’t think you can take me down…well…you can’t.

This also means that I don’t get swarms of douchebags skeeving me, and I don’t have to fend off poseurs all of the time.

I think I can live with this.

My new friend did make sure to warn me that I’ll not be safe from him next we are within proximity.

And I think I can live with that too.

Kinkfest II: Electric Boogaloo.

Mar 282009

Today’s class went well. Minax was FAN-fucking-TASTIC! Whatever people say about us Twins, I’ve found working with other Gemini people is amazing for me because the fluidity and spontaneity isn’t seen as flakiness or strangeness and the capacity for on-the-feet-thinking is mirrored.

I am honored that she trusts me enough to gamely step up to the plate…at TEN A.M., FOLKS…and bring SO MUCH to the presentation.

Curtsy

Minax. Thank you. You honor me deeply. I’m proud to stand next to you and share.

OH! Before I forget. The badass fucking Buddhist monk I mentioned in class is Thich Nhat Hanh. Go immediately and buy all of his shit. Start with THIS book, as it is the WIN.

I had some troublemakers in the back of my class…Mister FetLife, John Baku, and several cohorts were the Detention Row…the Group W Bench back there. I’d be more harsh on them for being so irreverent but for two facts:

Voodoo Doughnut. INsanity. Yes, bitches, those ARE Cocoa Puffs.

1) I don’t take myself nearly seriously enough to give a fuck and

2) He gave me a Voodoo Doughnut. It is called the Triple Chocolate Penetration
(chocolate doughnut, chocolate glaze, and cocoa-puffs)

‘Nuff said.

Post-class I had a really overwhelming amount of kick-ass feedback. I think I may have to believe that there isn’t a national plot to blow smoke up my ass and yeah, I do well in presenting in Kink and I can relax a little and not get so nervous that I am nauseous before classes.

We’ll see how that works.

I had a moment of connecting with another woman who kind of eerily mirrored back to me the feelings of frustration I have in finding partners. Sure, OK, I pound my own coffin nails into any chance I might have of finding someone when I tell a room full of people I’m not easily intimidated or intellectually or physically dominated and you had best be fucking ready to prove to me why MY time is worth sacrificing to you. I realize this. But I have this compulsion to tell my truth. What can I do?

As we were talking after the class I said something…I dunno what…and she looked at me and said “Wow I can really see how that impacts you…your energy just totally dropped right now.”

Note to self: there ARE people who “See” you, and you aren’t fooling them.

Ever.

But those are the people who you need to reach out to. They’ll be the ones to help when the mask DOES need to come off.

After the class I was thinking about what I’d just said, and all of the conditions, caveats and such I have learned, over the years, are important to me.

And I was sad.

Why would anyone bother with someone like me when they can have a far, far easier time with any number of other slaves or submissives? Or a number of them at once? Subs and slaves who are grateful to even HAVE a place to serve, who aren’t fussy and want to have that connection, unimpeded, un trammeled, and, to he honest, singular?

Have I set myself up for failure by being so stringent?

Possibly.

Time will tell…blah blah yadda.

I’d an awesome lunch with some wonderful folks. I talked a lot. But I guess that was OK…they were asking me about stuff and I aims ta please!

I went to the vendor area and OMFG fell in love with and splurged in a GORGEOUS leather skirt…fitted through the knee and flared beneath. I also ordered a matching bolero jacket.

I think they will look lovely.

Well, I should try to scrounge some food.

I have another class tomorrow…what is it…edge play? Something or other.

Though what is edgier than just LIVING in the present moment? Not bloody much.

Kinkfest Opening Ceremony: (or “Those 35 years as a performer paid off.)

Mar 282009

The Not Ready for Prime Time Pervert!

Like a true masochist, I thought it would be cool to offer to perform at KinkFest this year. And like the sadists they must be, the good people at KinkFest booked me for the opening ceremony.

Yep. I was barfulous with nerves. Add to my woes, even as I was rehearsing the song in my room, thinking “OK, I have 45 minutes to go, stay calm, stay calm…” I was perusing the KinkFest info book and my eyes ran over the opening ceremony page just as my phone rang, my wrangler was calling and I realized that I was FUCKING MISTAKEN ABOUT THE START TIME and the opening ceremonies were starting…now.

I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

Srsly.

SO I bolted over to the Convention Center part of the hotel and made my way there, spoke to the (OMFG smoking hot) DJ about the cues, and within 15 minutes was up on stage pulling the banter and patter out of my ass. Got through the first song, which is my kinky version “Crazy” and it went fine. Patter patterbanter banter and it was time for the second song, the and this time the kinky doggerel was to the tune of “My Favorite Things.”

Thing is this: when I did it in 69Stories, I only did one verse and the chorus. It was quite short. But since I could get an edited version, I had to write 2 more verses.

And get them performance ready.

IN 2 days.

No problem.

But this karaoke version had a piss poor lead in for the second verse.

I couldn’t hear it.

SO guess what, I fucked it up.

I tried to recover and then was like “OK, you know what? Fuck it. Stop. Start again.”

I waved to the DJ “Hey, I fucked up. Can you stop the song and start again?” I saw him grinning at me from the back of the dungeon and I was like “OK I think he thinks I’m kidding.”

I waved more vigorously “Hello! Hi, hey, no I’m really serious! I really really mean it! Stop the soooong! Please to start it again, please!”

I smiled, curled the hands, snapped back to the assembled pervs, who were all grinning like bandits. Nothing audiences love more than seeing someone fuck up and recover. They’re all rooting for me, right?

I was so nervous but miracle of miracles, the jibblies bounced my vibrato and healed my breath. I didn’t fall off pitch and got through it fine the second time around.

But boy was my head pounding. Something awful.

I ran off stage at the end and people were all congratulating me and all I could think “Aspirin aspirin please please…”

But of course, I was on headrush and so the headache kinda had to wait.

It really is worth it, despite the nerves and self-doubt to have so many people pouring out such good energy. I hope it got the thing off on a fun foot.

It took me FOREVER to get outta there, because people wanted to say hi, and thanks, and say such wonderful stuff….Yay!

OK, I feel pretty happy right now.

Yes, yep. I do.

I’m sitting in the hotel lobby writing this. My little laptop is having Some Issues, but they have a tight ship here and I am comfy and printing out my notes for tomorrow’s class.

At 10:00 AM.

Kill.

Me.

Nao.

kthxbai.

H(otel) NT…hello, Portland.

Mar 262009

Portland, second year in a row for KinkFest. The folks here absolutely are among the most awesome hosts ever.

I’m a cranky nervous poopiepants.

The SuperShutle was late and had a harrowing series of pickups and a driver with no clue how to get anywhere aside from relying on GPS which, in SF, can be dodgy.

But I made it.

And the had a kind of lame flight and despite my less-than-stellar seatmate, I’m here and enjoying one of my fave fetishes…hotel staus.

Aaaaaah.

I had to change rooms, but the hotel folks were most generous and cool. But that ice machine was SERIOUSLY gonna keep me up, yo!

But I am here and a shower was had, and so I share it with you.

Happy HNT :-)