Curvie Girlie
New member
Matt: Oh hey hey now! 
The San Francisco Fetish Ball 7, March 8th 2008
Somehow, it all boils down to feet. The hilarity is like a wonderful running joke that only gets wackier and culminated last night in the middle of the Regency Grand Ballroom downstairs in front of a roomful of kinky freaks.
I got called a fellow pervert by one of the guys who plans the event. "I'm not a pervert, " I insisted. "Yes you are" was his retort and I stopped to think about it, felt comfortable with the description, and decided I didn't care to continue arguing against that fact.
The grand ballroom was dark, with black lights around the room (that I installed earlier that day, tra la la) and a stage and a bar and a bunch of VIPs in the balcony above the poor folks and volunteers. The costumes were AWESOME. So much leather and vinyl and latex, lots of leashes (or "leads" whatever) some formal, some uniforms, some exposed titties, and a zebra. Yes folks, a ZEBRA costume. Ha ha ha! It was great. One guy was even completely duct-taped up and led around carefully and slowly by his Master. Everywhere I looked I was dazzled and amused and ooohed and awed. No bordem, no monotony, Trisha and I were totally entertained all night. We drank and danced and spanked and were spanked. We watched people get jiggy wid it and we chatted and danced with Jesse (now goes by Terrin) and occasionally saw Sasha, who was working all night (networking for her documentary on goth/fetish culture).
I had washed my feet, clipped my toenails, and rubbed my body (including my feet) with coconut oil from Fiji--just in case I ran into a foot fetishist. Well....sure enough I ran into one, named Ricardo, dressed in black leather with a leather collar and rings around it. I asked him if he wanted to, and he agreed--right there in the middle of the ballroom I took off my shoes and knee-high socks and he went to town, licking, sucking--even deep-throating my feet. Rubbing them against his face....letting me trampled him, step on his head and grab the rings around his neck with my toes. I writhed and smiled and laughed--it was so funny to me, and the power exchange was awesome--how often to you get to step on a guy's face--and not feel bad, because he loves it?! We got the attention of lots of photographers--cameras weren't allowed without a press pass, so who knows--my feet and Ricardo's mouth might end up in some editorial somewheres, I dunno. I put on the best show I could, using my toes to "caress" his face because I'm sure that's what the crowd wanted. After about 15 minutes of this, he got up and asked me if I would kick his balls. "Sure," and I got up, put my hands on his shoulders as he was on his knees, and I lightly kicked his balls about 6 times--my first CBT play(?) Then that was all. I told him he was awesome and shook his hand, and didn't see him except for one other time for the rest of the ball.
I was looking very hard for Mistress Darlene (David, the guy in his fifties who looks so normal in the daytime) and I recognized his outfit from a picture he showed me. He looked so great in drag that I completely understood why he bothered with it at all. Lots and lots of people have clothes fetishes, trust me on that one. Just be a hot guy in a Navy Uniform and....*erotic shudder* Anyway, Mistress Darlene was wearing a black tight vinyl outfit and tall black platform stilettos--in a depraved moment I decided it would be funny to stoop down and kiss the tops of his beautiful shoes, and so I did and he made me do it again so he could take a picture with his iPhone. So yeah, I kissed the tops of a Drag Queen's boots *shrugs*
Then I ran into another female volunteer I had worked with earlier that day--except instead of looking normal she was wearing a scandalous see-through latex dress and was escorting 2 young, hot guys almost naked on leashes. When we stopped to chat, she made them kiss the tops of my feet--and they did, over and over, lovingly and traveling up my ankles and back down to my toes until their Mistress tugged at their leashes "That's enough." She even offered me the reins but I thought of my ex-boyfriend and declined. I sort of regret that because I could have made them kiss each other, but for some reason I felt bad about ordering around slaves--I'm usually the bottom. Maybe next year....
The best thing about last night was the costumes and the fact that you could wallow in depravity and it didn't matter--pull up your skirt and hand the person next to you the paddle? Not anything out of the ordinary. Fetishes are fun to explore and the music they played was wonderful to dance to. Trisha, Terrin and I all danced our asses off. I even danced with "Miko," a male, straight attorney that happens to be "really submissive" and likes to dress like a little girl (one of the other Catholic Schoolgirls there).
The fashion show was very dramatic and awesomely kinky--some of the costumes made me think about lubing myself up and slipping into some latex someday as well. Better to get really skinny first...yeah, not going to happen! By the end of the night I was sobered but Trisha was drunk, so we made our way back to her car and I drove us home, playing hyphy music on KMEL the whole way. Once we pulled on the side of her street to park, she uttered, "I don't fill good" and bleh--she vomited all out her passenger door. Once finished, I helped her out and she complained she couldn't walk because her heeled, black leather zip-up boots hurt her feet too bad. Still woozey, she leaned up against the back bumper of her car and I, ever helpful, got on my knees and said "Here--" and I unzipped and started yanking off her boots--then laughing. "Look Trisha--what a way to end the night--me on my knees taking off your boots!" and we giggled fiendishly in front of the house of her Johovah's witness boyfriend's mama.
I had the time of my life. I wish Santa Cruz had fetish things once a week.
The San Francisco Fetish Ball 7, March 8th 2008
Somehow, it all boils down to feet. The hilarity is like a wonderful running joke that only gets wackier and culminated last night in the middle of the Regency Grand Ballroom downstairs in front of a roomful of kinky freaks.
I got called a fellow pervert by one of the guys who plans the event. "I'm not a pervert, " I insisted. "Yes you are" was his retort and I stopped to think about it, felt comfortable with the description, and decided I didn't care to continue arguing against that fact.
The grand ballroom was dark, with black lights around the room (that I installed earlier that day, tra la la) and a stage and a bar and a bunch of VIPs in the balcony above the poor folks and volunteers. The costumes were AWESOME. So much leather and vinyl and latex, lots of leashes (or "leads" whatever) some formal, some uniforms, some exposed titties, and a zebra. Yes folks, a ZEBRA costume. Ha ha ha! It was great. One guy was even completely duct-taped up and led around carefully and slowly by his Master. Everywhere I looked I was dazzled and amused and ooohed and awed. No bordem, no monotony, Trisha and I were totally entertained all night. We drank and danced and spanked and were spanked. We watched people get jiggy wid it and we chatted and danced with Jesse (now goes by Terrin) and occasionally saw Sasha, who was working all night (networking for her documentary on goth/fetish culture).
I had washed my feet, clipped my toenails, and rubbed my body (including my feet) with coconut oil from Fiji--just in case I ran into a foot fetishist. Well....sure enough I ran into one, named Ricardo, dressed in black leather with a leather collar and rings around it. I asked him if he wanted to, and he agreed--right there in the middle of the ballroom I took off my shoes and knee-high socks and he went to town, licking, sucking--even deep-throating my feet. Rubbing them against his face....letting me trampled him, step on his head and grab the rings around his neck with my toes. I writhed and smiled and laughed--it was so funny to me, and the power exchange was awesome--how often to you get to step on a guy's face--and not feel bad, because he loves it?! We got the attention of lots of photographers--cameras weren't allowed without a press pass, so who knows--my feet and Ricardo's mouth might end up in some editorial somewheres, I dunno. I put on the best show I could, using my toes to "caress" his face because I'm sure that's what the crowd wanted. After about 15 minutes of this, he got up and asked me if I would kick his balls. "Sure," and I got up, put my hands on his shoulders as he was on his knees, and I lightly kicked his balls about 6 times--my first CBT play(?) Then that was all. I told him he was awesome and shook his hand, and didn't see him except for one other time for the rest of the ball.
I was looking very hard for Mistress Darlene (David, the guy in his fifties who looks so normal in the daytime) and I recognized his outfit from a picture he showed me. He looked so great in drag that I completely understood why he bothered with it at all. Lots and lots of people have clothes fetishes, trust me on that one. Just be a hot guy in a Navy Uniform and....*erotic shudder* Anyway, Mistress Darlene was wearing a black tight vinyl outfit and tall black platform stilettos--in a depraved moment I decided it would be funny to stoop down and kiss the tops of his beautiful shoes, and so I did and he made me do it again so he could take a picture with his iPhone. So yeah, I kissed the tops of a Drag Queen's boots *shrugs*
Then I ran into another female volunteer I had worked with earlier that day--except instead of looking normal she was wearing a scandalous see-through latex dress and was escorting 2 young, hot guys almost naked on leashes. When we stopped to chat, she made them kiss the tops of my feet--and they did, over and over, lovingly and traveling up my ankles and back down to my toes until their Mistress tugged at their leashes "That's enough." She even offered me the reins but I thought of my ex-boyfriend and declined. I sort of regret that because I could have made them kiss each other, but for some reason I felt bad about ordering around slaves--I'm usually the bottom. Maybe next year....
The best thing about last night was the costumes and the fact that you could wallow in depravity and it didn't matter--pull up your skirt and hand the person next to you the paddle? Not anything out of the ordinary. Fetishes are fun to explore and the music they played was wonderful to dance to. Trisha, Terrin and I all danced our asses off. I even danced with "Miko," a male, straight attorney that happens to be "really submissive" and likes to dress like a little girl (one of the other Catholic Schoolgirls there).
The fashion show was very dramatic and awesomely kinky--some of the costumes made me think about lubing myself up and slipping into some latex someday as well. Better to get really skinny first...yeah, not going to happen! By the end of the night I was sobered but Trisha was drunk, so we made our way back to her car and I drove us home, playing hyphy music on KMEL the whole way. Once we pulled on the side of her street to park, she uttered, "I don't fill good" and bleh--she vomited all out her passenger door. Once finished, I helped her out and she complained she couldn't walk because her heeled, black leather zip-up boots hurt her feet too bad. Still woozey, she leaned up against the back bumper of her car and I, ever helpful, got on my knees and said "Here--" and I unzipped and started yanking off her boots--then laughing. "Look Trisha--what a way to end the night--me on my knees taking off your boots!" and we giggled fiendishly in front of the house of her Johovah's witness boyfriend's mama.
I had the time of my life. I wish Santa Cruz had fetish things once a week.
Well sometimes you see winners