Well, this is supposed to be the third Shadowlane post – I know, I know! But the third post (mostly written) was overtaken by events – in this case, a whole bunch of work which had to be done, and then, what we in San Francisco refer to as “Leather Week” (the week that ends with the Folsom Street Fair on Sunday, filled with lectures, classes, parties, readings, munches, and other events) and of course, “The High Holy Day of Kink” itself.
You might say to yourself, “If Zille is as much out-of-the-dungeon-and-into-the-schoolroom as she claims, why does she keep going to these BDSM events?” It’s a fair question.
To me, BDSM includes spanking. I know some spankos don’t much like that idea, but the whole point of BDSM is to be an overarching umbrella of all things non-vanilla. And you really do have to admit that spanking is simply not “vanilla sex” – although more power to the people who are vanilla, but like the occasional slap on the bottom to spice things up.
Some spankos would like to say that their world is totally different from the BDSM one. And it’s true, that many spankos would not feel comfy in a dungeon. But “BDSM” is not just a bunch of people chaining each other up in a dungeon – it’s a community, and it’s a community that welcomes spankos as part of the kinky rainbow of tastes and preferences. (Before someone brings it up: any snotty BDSMer who sneers that spankos are not serious about their kink should get a dozen “of the best” from the cane before they are allowed to finish their sentence. Or just six, if they can’t take it!)
Anyway, the place to really prove that BDSM is inclusive beyond all doubt is the Folsom Street Fair. You get bear-like leathermen wearing nothing but harnesses and boots, finding a corner to make their “boys” kneel down and get pissed upon. You find human “ponies” with butt-plug tails, pulling their latex-clad Mistresses in carts down the street. (This year there was a full human dog-sled team. It was awesome!) You find gorgeous drag-queens of any sexuality and preference. You find leather-dykes with their tattooed breasts proudly bared, strutting dangerously down the street. You find adorable little twinks in glittery jock-straps. You even find naked vanilla people who might be nudists or swingers or some combination thereof, just running around enjoying the freedom and energy.
And you find spankos. You might have to look a bit harder to see them: with all the dark sheen of leather, high-gloss of latex, and shimmer of glitter getting in your eyes (often literally), it’s harder to see the classic schoolgirl and schoolboy uniforms. With all that flesh jingling around, the ones who are demurely covered up don’t catch the eye as easily – unless you are really into that sort of thing, in which case you might not notice the naked frolickers at all, but not miss the slightest glimpse of tartan or grey pleat.
I myself decided to make the statement of what I preferred, but wanted to hold my own in the shameless display category.
The shirt says, “Daddy’s Girl”. It’s all the more fetishy for me because I actually bought it in the children’s clothing section of a store! If this outfit doesn’t state that I am in need of a spanking, I don’t know what would – at least punish me for my terrible taste in aggressive pinks!
My Daddy’s Girl shirt was more than a statement of the obvious, however. It’s what I wore to the first Folsom I went to with Mr Defeu, as his girl, in 2005. It was really meaningful to me to wear it again, “Look,” I’m saying, “I’m still so very much HIS!”
In past years we have taken people around the fair for their first tastes of it, or we have worked at various booths (like Dark Garden), or we have been busy running around shooting for Skin Two, or for our friends who are doing public scenes they want memorialized (and not just by the random people with cameras – there are more than their fair share of “tourists” – people who come to gawk at the “freaks on display.” It’s the worst part of Folsom, for me, and I’ve become quite good at ruining people’s shots of me, if they don’t ask permission to shoot!)
It was a wonderful day for us – the best fair we’ve had in years, actually. We didn’t have to go anywhere, or get anything done. We just went around to see which friends we might bump into, chatted and caught up with them, enjoyed the sights (there was a puppy play area where we happily stayed a long while, watching the adorable little boy pups rolling around, playing fetch and tug, and getting petted. Their play was sweet and innocent and heart-warming, all whilst being at the same time deeply kinky and hot!)
We didn’t play in public, although we went past a friend or two who was doing so. Both Mr Defeu and I much prefer to build up the energy, and then take it home, where we can do anything we like without having be watchful of an audience of strangers. At home an intense and intimate scene followed with Uncle Duncan deciding that a bad girl like me needed to be reminded of my place. I was told I could try and get out of it with a blowjob, but of course the blowjob wasn’t good enough to suit him, and I had to try and breathe my way through 18 strokes of the cane. (I had thought he was just going to do 12. When he started in on the 13th one, my thoughts when like this: “Oh SHIT, another six?! Oh noooo–!”)
Then, the anal sex. (I love typing that!) Because, you know, girls who dress in that much blinding pink really do deserve anything they get! It had been a long time, and it really hurt. There was a point when he was first pushing inside me when I thought I might have to beg him to stop, tell him I just couldn’t take it. I made it though, and my reward came later, as he was pounding hard into me and I lost control and screamed out, “Oh my god, it hurts so much and I’m coming so hard!” (And, of course, being me, it’s that first bit, the part that hurt more than anything, which I will be masturbating about for a long time to come!)
The Daddy’s Girl shirt and the scene were similar in that they were both a reconnecting for us, a reminding of our beginnings as a couple, of how our similar desires led us to each other. That first Folsom we did together was right after I broke up with my ex, Bear, to be with Mr Defeu. Things were hot and intense, but it was also a really difficult time going on around that. Seven years later, things are actually in another difficult time, with work and family issues that have given us both a very hard year, but things are still hot and intense for us – our core is still there. That means so very much. And while Folsom may not be a pure “spanko” event, it does mean an annual renewal and reconnection to this spanko couple.
But enough of the gooey lovey-dovey stuff. I end with a picture of me going down a penis slide, as is right and proper!