happy's an emotion
it's not a thought
it goes past the intellect to the belly
where it gets caught
like a grain of sand
which slides with the tide
not caught like a panther in a zoo
nowhere to hide
happy bubbles thickly
brings a wideness to the eyes
happy is consuming
like the big question why
happy takes over like an
open summer sky
happy has no room for the melancholy... sigh...
me to the grave
if I die as just an ism slave
a bowl of fruit with honey and some greens
is all I crave
to give praise
for being alive oh on this planet
praise for being alive oh,
on this planet and
praise for being alive, oh
on this planet and
praise for being alive.
-Praise! by Kinnie Starr
I had an incredible day yesterday. I wandered around with S and T most of the afternoon. I bought some mitts and a toque, tickets for Kinnie Starr, vintage '50s eyeglass frames, and a bunch of asian grocery delicacies. We decided to meet up and go to the Black and Blue ball for later that night.
The Black and Blue ball is a quarterly party for the city's bdsm community. It's been going for years, but I'd never gone to one.
I went home to prep. I have no bdsm clothing anymore so I had to improvise. I decided to get rid of the natural look and shaved all my body hair. Then I converted a floor length slit black skirt into a micromini barely covering my ass. I put a black pushup bra on, followed by a proper looking silvery white fitted dress shirt (which I later removed.) I wore sheer black stay up stockings and 6 inch black mary jane heels. I topped it off with a leather collar and a wicked looking crop.
Oh, and I left my underwear at home.
T dressed like some sort of weird military priest. I have no other word to describe it. I'm not sure I've ever described T. He's quite intense looking: icy blue eyes, short dark hair, full lips, high cheekbones, multiple piercings and tattoos. His outfit made him look grim in a dark sexy sorta way.
S dressed up in leather pants and open leather vest with a satin bra. She slicked back her blond hair. She had the teutonic leather bitch thing going on.
Needless to say, our little group attracted attention when we arrived at the party. I can't say it was unwelcome. *grin*
The party itself was packed, a few hundred people. The press of flesh was almost overwhelming. The only place where there was any space was around the whipping area. Everyone was friendly. Lots of smiling and without exception very polite. My eyes enjoyed the variety of shapes, ages, and leanings of the partygoers. It was refreshing to see so many different people hanging together, all relaxed and easygoing about things. I was thinking how odd it would seem to an outsider who might think a bdsm crowd would be dark and unfriendly.
S and I danced up a storm. I enjoyed the music very much, highkicking, falling to a crouch, acting alternately awkward and shy, and then brazen -- shaking my ass, twisting and smiling at people. I played with my crop, teasing S with it. At one point she threw me up against a wall on the dancefloor, simulated sex with me, and bit and scratched the hell out of my back and neck. I responded by solicitously cooling her with icecubes over her naked skin. Onlookers seemed to like it.
People kept complimenting me on my edith prickley sunglasses, which I was wearing like a tiara.
The bathrooms were unisex. I had to laugh, all of the smokers snuck in there; they were smoking cigarettes in the surreptitious manner reserved for dope smoking of yore. The bathrooms became chat/flirtation zones. S pulled down my bra in front of a sink. I have an active milk duct or two in my left breast, so I gave everyone an impromptu lactation demonstration, expressing milk from my breast and licking my fingers. I think S called me a dirty girl. It was rich coming from her.
S and I left T with a cute kitty woman in his lap and went to this late night diner. The manager tried to seat us in the back. S corrected him and made him give us prominent seats in the front. Our waitress seemed amused and pleased by this.
I got home around 2 am and called my cowboy. He certainly knows how to play. *sighs happily*
I've put a couple post party pictures in my pics folder.
All in all, a grand day and night. I have sore spots today though, including the bitemarks, the scratches, and some lovely crop stripes and bruising on my thighs and breasts.
it's not a thought
it goes past the intellect to the belly
where it gets caught
like a grain of sand
which slides with the tide
not caught like a panther in a zoo
nowhere to hide
happy bubbles thickly
brings a wideness to the eyes
happy is consuming
like the big question why
happy takes over like an
open summer sky
happy has no room for the melancholy... sigh...
me to the grave
if I die as just an ism slave
a bowl of fruit with honey and some greens
is all I crave
to give praise
for being alive oh on this planet
praise for being alive oh,
on this planet and
praise for being alive, oh
on this planet and
praise for being alive.
-Praise! by Kinnie Starr
I had an incredible day yesterday. I wandered around with S and T most of the afternoon. I bought some mitts and a toque, tickets for Kinnie Starr, vintage '50s eyeglass frames, and a bunch of asian grocery delicacies. We decided to meet up and go to the Black and Blue ball for later that night.
The Black and Blue ball is a quarterly party for the city's bdsm community. It's been going for years, but I'd never gone to one.
I went home to prep. I have no bdsm clothing anymore so I had to improvise. I decided to get rid of the natural look and shaved all my body hair. Then I converted a floor length slit black skirt into a micromini barely covering my ass. I put a black pushup bra on, followed by a proper looking silvery white fitted dress shirt (which I later removed.) I wore sheer black stay up stockings and 6 inch black mary jane heels. I topped it off with a leather collar and a wicked looking crop.
Oh, and I left my underwear at home.
T dressed like some sort of weird military priest. I have no other word to describe it. I'm not sure I've ever described T. He's quite intense looking: icy blue eyes, short dark hair, full lips, high cheekbones, multiple piercings and tattoos. His outfit made him look grim in a dark sexy sorta way.
S dressed up in leather pants and open leather vest with a satin bra. She slicked back her blond hair. She had the teutonic leather bitch thing going on.

The party itself was packed, a few hundred people. The press of flesh was almost overwhelming. The only place where there was any space was around the whipping area. Everyone was friendly. Lots of smiling and without exception very polite. My eyes enjoyed the variety of shapes, ages, and leanings of the partygoers. It was refreshing to see so many different people hanging together, all relaxed and easygoing about things. I was thinking how odd it would seem to an outsider who might think a bdsm crowd would be dark and unfriendly.
S and I danced up a storm. I enjoyed the music very much, highkicking, falling to a crouch, acting alternately awkward and shy, and then brazen -- shaking my ass, twisting and smiling at people. I played with my crop, teasing S with it. At one point she threw me up against a wall on the dancefloor, simulated sex with me, and bit and scratched the hell out of my back and neck. I responded by solicitously cooling her with icecubes over her naked skin. Onlookers seemed to like it.

The bathrooms were unisex. I had to laugh, all of the smokers snuck in there; they were smoking cigarettes in the surreptitious manner reserved for dope smoking of yore. The bathrooms became chat/flirtation zones. S pulled down my bra in front of a sink. I have an active milk duct or two in my left breast, so I gave everyone an impromptu lactation demonstration, expressing milk from my breast and licking my fingers. I think S called me a dirty girl. It was rich coming from her.

S and I left T with a cute kitty woman in his lap and went to this late night diner. The manager tried to seat us in the back. S corrected him and made him give us prominent seats in the front. Our waitress seemed amused and pleased by this.
I got home around 2 am and called my cowboy. He certainly knows how to play. *sighs happily*
I've put a couple post party pictures in my pics folder.
All in all, a grand day and night. I have sore spots today though, including the bitemarks, the scratches, and some lovely crop stripes and bruising on my thighs and breasts.
VIEW 25 of 28 COMMENTS
Hi! I actually looked into working at Canada Post. When I went to apply they gave me a phone number to call to check for job postings, but I never follwed through. Is it bearable?
(sorry I take so damn long to reply
cmon, you know you want to.