For the past many years, I have gone to the Fetish Fair Flea market. I attended them back when there wasn't a winter flea. As it grew from a room full of vendors into a whole con with classes and parties and ownership of a whole hotel, I grew with it. It used to be the only con I'd go to. I'm allergic to cons, I say.
But the winter flea is one of the things I look forward to most these days. It's been a high point with partners; it's been a low point with loneliness. Last year, I got my room and went as an aggressive act of getting-out-there and trying-new-things. Besides finding a new kink (hello, hypno!) I found a new partner (hello, Mr. Shiny!) and a whole new scene (hello, NEHG!) which finally, after all these years, feels like home.
So this year, well, I knew it would be good. It was.
Mr. Shiny and I went down on Friday. We got there later than I'd hoped, because I am not good at packing in advance or deciding what to wear, and at the last minute said "argh I want to wear that thing! argh it's full of cat hair and cat puke! argh it goes into the washer!" I'd looked into some classes I'd want to go to, looked into some vendors I'd want to stop by and see, and looked into parties that would be happening in the evenings. I didn't expect to be bored.
As it was, I didn't go to many classes. I visited vendors and went to parties and chilled at the hypno table and went to more parties and had wonderful moments with Mr. Shiny.
There was so much! And so much of it violated the Geneva Conventions! I was tied up. I was electrocuted repeatedly with a violet wand. I was beaten with a cane so bad that the bruises flowed around my breasts and turned them dark purple.* I was tranced over and over, and I'm pretty sure that falls afoul of anti-brainwashing rules.
I determined that actually, well, I am not all that straight. I mean, I suspected as much, but now my behavior carries that out. I got attacked by a hot chick who thought she was a naga, and we made out a whole lot. Right in the middle of the party. I was sitting by Mr. Shiny's legs at the time and so he had hot chicks writhing around kissing in his lap. Poor Mr. Shiny. Life is so hard for him.
I also determined that actually, well, I am not all that sub. I'm definitely submissive, but apparently not exclusively. As I'm growing in confidence and security, I am sometimes finding myself wanting to pounce on that cute thing over there. GRRR. RAR. Fierce Miette!
One of the best things, though, was fulfilling a bit of a fantasy of mine. I identified a Hot Chick at the Friday hypno party. I approached her and told her I wanted to give her as a present to my boyfriend, since his birthday was the week before. The fantasy goes something like "I lead her over to Mr. Shiny and he uses her right there" but in reality, of course, you have to do negotiation and so on. After all, she didn't know either of us from Adam, and she has a partner, too. So her partner and Mr. Shiny went off to negotiate, and it was all settled for the next day.
I was elsewhere, getting beaten and zapped, when the whole thing went down. But when I came back, they were smiling and happy. I felt absolutely gleeful. I brought Mr. Shiny a toy! And the toy appreciated it, she said it was one of the best compliments anyone had ever given her. It was an even better present than I'd thought, too; as I got to know her, I discovered that in addition to being super-hot, she is wicked smart, funny, and has had a colorful and interesting life. Also, she's a good subject!
Sure, I was flying high from all the wonderful things people had been doing to me, and all the wonderful trances I got to experience, and the compliments on the previously cat-encrusted skirt I wore. That I'd made. I certainly pursued my own pleasures all weekend. But today, a couple of weeks later, those pleasures fade in my memory compared to "eeeeeee! I found a girl and gave her to Mr. Shiny and it was awesome!"
Coming Soon: The Other Present For Mr. Shiny, or When It Is Better to Give Than to Receive; also, The Aftermath of the Flea, or Sometimes It Is Better to Receive Than to Give.
* That was actually a bit much. I loved the caning and being pushed, but the underside of my breasts, inches from the impact sites, were dark purple. I like marks... less than that. Next time, I will take it on the butt! If the whole thing turns black, I won't have to look at it!