Trial By Fire: A Review of Play Party v. 24

Hello bunnies – I am returned… exhausted, but with a story to tell.

I am aware that my online presence has been wanting of late. It has a lot to do with stuff I’ve had to deal with at home and work… everything from losing my dog to getting disciplined by management. I’m at the end of my rope… and sadly not the good, kinky kind.

So, I decided to take a break from all that crappy, unpleasant adulting stuff, and decided to take time off to attend one of Mistress Hell Kitty‘s amazing play parties. This one was number 24 in a series, though unfortunately the last one at its specific location (due to change of ownership – or so was my understanding of the situation, – the dungeon needs a new venue).

I was a last minute guest.

I had been invited to the event by Mr. Wildcard eons ago. I had intended to attend, but my generosity towards my colleagues at work was taken advantage of, and I ended up scheduled on the evening of the party (a crappy 3 a.m. to 8 a.m. shift) and would have to miss out.

Then, after an awful day on the Thursday where just everything seemed to go to hell in a handbasket, I asked a colleague who owes me a favour if she could help me out. She initially accepted, and so I contacted the event organizers and got my butt on that guestlist. I needed the respite from responsibilities and keeping my shit together as much as I do.

So I was having a normal Saturday which went south very quickly. First off, I woke up late. I was supposed to be somewhere at noon. I woke up at 11:50. Then, what normally takes me a 15 minute drive on the worst of days took an hour (yes, 60 whole minutes) due to construction and stupid fucking #!@%&!!#$@%&! who don’t know how to drive. I ended up being nearly two hours late for my meeting, feeling embarrassed and enraged.

(As I would later tell my husband, traffic is the worst! I was really starting to lose my cool… I was beginning to think that ISIS could go fuck itself; if anyone is going to cause a mass bombing, it’s a person who is rage-quitting being stuck in traffic.)

Then, to make a dreadful day worse, my colleague got back to me and told me my shift was too shitty and she didn’t want to take it anymore. Apparently, I should just bite the bullet and go to work. I told her that I knew this wasn’t the deal of the century, but we had an agreement – and I had helped her countless times in the past, even when I found her shifts were not to my liking. To which the little… urgh! … did not respond for over three hours.

I honestly didn’t know at that point if I should drive myself off a cliff, or run over a pedestrian (I am using hyperbole, but I was still pretty ticked off).

The Play Party at the legendary dungeon of the glorious Mistress Hellkitty, was no longer on the table for me…

Until my colleague finally took my shift. I had the Sunday off and, thus, could freely attend Play Party #24 after all.

I was jittery and anxious. It would be my first time going to such a very “public” play party. There were only about 60 attendees; but as someone who was only familiar with Miss Pearl’s play parties (which never have more than a dozen guests), I was terrified.

Social anxieties notwithstanding, I didn’t find out I could attend the party (which started at 10 p.m.) until shortly before 9 in the evening. Panic immediately set in!

What am I going to wear?

I may have flailed while asking myself that particular question. I had no ideas, no plans, and I looked like death warmed up (no make-up, etc.).

A fetish outfit?

No good – the ones I have from my modelling days won’t fit my stupidly overgrown chesticles. Besides, I am not sure I fit in any of them anymore. Breasts notwithstanding, I no longer have the lovely figure I had when I was twenty-one.

Pretty and Sexy Lingerie?

Well… yes, sure. But again, I am having a huge brassiere shortage in my dresser. All my bras are C-cups. I have grown to a DD-E cup about three years ago, but have been too broke to properly update my undergarment collection. And god knows that ill fitting bras look awful!

A Kinky Themed Outfit?

Sure – but what?! All my costumes are in boxes. We only moved a little over a month ago! What can I possibly…?

While running through my apartment like a chicken with it’s head cut off, I stumbled on a wonderful find. In my stocking and tight drawer (yes, I have a drawer dedicated exclusively to those – and no socks are allowed in it! – thanks to my job uniform requiring new tights about two-three times a week), I found these:

vertical_striped_thigh_high_stockings_2
The dream find that inspired me.

There were completely untouched: unopened and unworn. I had bought them years ago (about two apartments ago), and thrown them in the back of my stocking drawer only to forget all about them. Well, it was time they came out to party too. And, given their appearance, I knew what I would dress up as:

A Circus Ring Master!

I had everything I needed. 

A long bustier in a sheer peach colour with wide garter straps, combined with green lace cheeky panties, those stockings, and my Victorian, black and white, spat boots would do the trick. I completed the look with an intense, but kind of soft, make-up, like that of the performers of yore; and a large, ballerina-style, chignon.

Having asked Mr. Wildcard if he could give me a lift to the event (he was attending, although Miss Pearl had to miss out, sadly), I remembered he had a lovely tailcoat that happened to fit me. A few text messages later, my look was 100% perfect, with a black tailcoat tying up the look together nicely.

We drove in relative quiet… the stupid traffic still a nightmare… and got to the dungeon before the party had really found its full swing.

When I entered Mistress Hellkitty’s dungeon, I thought I had found Kink Paradise.

She had everything there: a cuddle area upstairs for after care and comfort, medical tables, rigs, spanking tables, toys to borrow, and St-Andrew’s Crosses.

I have never used a St-Andrew’s Cross before in my life. I am not going to lie, that is a very strong fantasy of mine. I want to tie up a helpless sub (preferably a beautiful strong man whom I have overpowered and submitted to my will) to one of those beauties and hide them until the cows come home.

Sadly, the use of the crosses would not be for me. While there were two of them, they were both very popular and always busy. And me, being out without subby-hubby, and Miss Pearl refusing that I top Mr. Wildcard, I was a bit at a loss. All kink but no sub makes Miss Pippa a sad Femdom.

So I chatted and met the wonderful people around me. At the bar, I got to meet Mistress Hellkitty herself in person (at last! It was like meeting a childhood hero. She is even more gorgeous in real life than she is when people gush about her), as well as Rope Kitteh – an absolutely delightful person whom I would like to get to know as much outside the scene as in it. I also gossiped with some good close friends who were in attendance, such as GM Extraordinaire.

After watching vicious beating of a beautiful creature called Eliott (they could not stand by the end of it) by a Master of his art, an auction for charity took place. The things being auctioned were: sessions with certain individuals, massages, private dungeon time, etc.

I teamed up with Miss Cheeky Pants so we could score the best prize of them all:

FIRE PLAY!

After splitting 860 Spankaroos halfway between us, we actually won that specific auction. With a gorgeous person named Sabine (whom I think I may have a crush on), I was taught the basics of Fire Play, while Miss Cheeky Pants was being set on fire.

This may sound a little scary for those of you who are not familiar with fire play, but it is a lot easier than it sounds when the proper precautions and steps are being taken. It is an awesome and intense experience for both the Top and the sub. I will elaborate more on that in a later post specifically about that type of Temperature Play; after I have acquired the necessary equipment to do it to subby-hubby.

Miss Cheeky pants, charming as ever, was the guinea pig in my learning of fire play. They merrily giggled all the way through the session… though they are admittedly quite ticklish. I could see the red marks from the heat forming on their skin, though there was no trace of the burn.

The amazing thing with fire play, in my newbie, first-timer opinion, is that you have to control more than just your sub. You have to control the fire too. And I can’t think of a more dangerous and unstable toy to play with. Which is why I love it! (What? Me? A Pyro?! Never!!)

I also asked Sabine to please do some fire play on my own person. As a Domme, I don’t like using/doing things on people if I haven’t tested them on myself first. So I decided to see what that sensation was all about.

And WHAT a sensation play that was, ladies, gentlemen, and non-binaries! The fire can be comfortably hot, like a very warm bath, and deliver a pleasant sensation of heat through the trail of fuel on one’s skin. But it can also become very intense. The more taps to the skin with a torch, the more intense the scorching becomes.

At One tap, it’s a lovely warmth.

Two: it kind of stings.

Three: it’s starting to hurt (but the good kind of hurt).

Four: it really hurts, but its delicious.

Five: you are insane and probably part salamander.

I could not go beyond three taps. Yes, yes. Miss Pippa is a sensitive wuss. Shut up! *blows raspberry* I have sensitive skin, okay?! *pouts*

The Proverbial “Bitter End”

Before I continue, I really must thank Mistress Hellkitty, Linda, Sabine and Mr. Wildcard for making my night and hosting (or inviting me to) an absolutely amazing party.

Unfortunately, it ended, as we say in French “en queue de poisson” for me. (Don’t ask me why the phrase is “in a fish tail,” I have no clue either.)

You see, after Miss Cheeky Pants left with a friend who was having a panic attack (I felt really bad for the poor thing too – I absolutely know where they were coming from), I was left to meander the dungeon by myself for the last twenty or so minutes of the event. During this time, Mr. Wildcard was chatting away with these beautiful, waif-like beings, -most of them Dommes, I think – who had bodies (and outfits) that made me completely lose my head. They were so gorgeous that all my body-issues, and self-image problems, came flooding back into my mind, chasing away all thoughts of how good a night it had been.

I kept it together at the space, but, by the time I was wiping off my make-up at home, I was desperately weeping. It was an unfortunate end of something that had been new and exciting for me.

*sigh* Kids, don’t do Depression, or Anxiety. It sucks!

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