Boobday: mile high 6

This week, Boobday comes to you from Lucas’s place. I arrived in his city last night.

We haven’t really done anything yet. He was expecting to have the day off today but then got called in after I had already booked my flights, so today I slept in, had a late breakfast, and then had a quick rinse which turned into a long soak. This evening I’m visiting with Mr. PS.


This time I thought ahead and cleaned off the mirror before taking the shot.

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a day in the city

I’m picking up the thread of the Gawan story again, which I dropped after the last post here. I think the main reason why I left it for so long is because it took time for me to process everything that happened. But now that I’ve booked the flights for my next visit with him, I need to get this story told.

When I woke up again in the mid-afternoon, we went out into the city to locate some food. We ran across a little Mexican fast food place where we ate some amazing nachos (I may have been biased: hunger is the best sauce), and boozy margaritas dispensed from a slush machine. Whether it was objectively good or not, it was deeply satisfying and I was likely grinning the whole time.

We wandered around the city centre, mostly just to see it, but I also did a spot of shopping. We were out for some time, the overcast skies darkened from sunset and thickening clouds, and although the timing was a little awkward (not long after our last meal, but a last and necessary opportunity for food for the evening) we decided to eat again.

First choice, despite the fact that it was now raining rather heavily, was an outdoor restaurant at the water’s edge. They had an indoor space so it seemed feasible. A stylish and almost certainly gay waiter, protected incongruously by a clear plastic rain poncho that looked like a garbage bag with a hood, turned us away apologetically: the restaurant simply couldn’t operate in this weather.

Second choice was a restaurant at a nearby landmark, looking out over the water from indoors, but by this point it was dark and pissing down rain so the ordinarily charming view was barely visible, and we were seated at a prep station well away from the windows. I watched a woman delicately assemble some kind of salad with artisanal slowness. Her kit included a small multi-chambered plastic box — the sort of thing I would expect to contain beads or other jewelry findings. In it were tiny nasturtium leaves and little white flowers (possibly nasturtium too, but I didn’t recognize them), which were plucked out and carefully placed with kitchen tweezers. Kitchen. Tweezers. I would have paid even more attention to the whole process if I’d realized that this was my salad. I wasn’t expecting a sort of performance art as part of the dining experience.

It was bucketing down when we were done, so we made our way as far as we could under awnings in search of a cab.

Back at the hotel, it was getting late and I was getting tired so we dealt with the practicalities of sleep. I prefer to sleep alone and, as I discovered during our first date, Gawan much prefers to share a bed. I’d been anticipating that this issue would come up again, especially since I had the sense that on our first date (where the room was equipped with two single beds and we slept separately) we’d arrived at a standoff rather than a truce. He advocated for sharing the double bed but eventually agreed that — for tonight — we could each have our own.

The next morning when I woke, I invited him into my bed to cuddle. We weren’t early waking up, or getting up, or getting packed. The phone rang just as we were making our exit about 20 minutes after what I presume was checkout time. I figured it was the front desk calling to pester us out.

It was raining again. We dashed down the street to a little restaurant where we had a very late breakfast masquerading as lunch. Our table was outdoors behind the restaurant in a little courtyard of pale painted brick walls, and we struggled to get ourselves and our bags under the umbrella that sheltered the light metal table and chairs. As we were finishing up, so did the rain, and we thought it a good time to make a break for the train station down the block. A few minutes later as we approached our platform in the darkened station, the rain started up again, eventually pelting down impressively, like hail, on the train’s metal roof.

I took the window seat, he the aisle, with our luggage perched on the seats facing us. I watched the foreign landscape and flora move past the train’s windows, sometimes wet with rain, as we trundled companionably toward his home during our first full day together.

play party

I’ve been to a handful of munches and play parties, but the play party I went to recently was the first time I really dressed up in something approaching “BDSM style”. I wore the bodysuit seen here, black push-up bra (and cleavage!) visible, slightly shiny black pleather leggings that came up to my natural waist, chocolate brown leather belt with antique brass toned domes/studs slung around my hips, and knee-high black leather boots.

When I sent Gawan a photo, he declared that I looked hot and BDSM-y, but a bit “strict Mistress Zoë” rather than submissive, noting that doms tend to conceal while subs tend to reveal. Although clothing communicates, I wasn’t worried about sending mixed messages because I wasn’t looking to pick anyone up. The bigger concern was that it was cold and I need to be comfortable.

I ran into Moth soon after I arrived. She complimented me on my attire, and the bodysuit specifically. We kinda know each other, and seeing her bodysuit was what inspired me to buy mine.

I paid attention to what others were wearing and compared their outfits to their role if I knew it, or guessed at their role on the basis of what I saw. It was a small event in a small, conservative city, so there wasn’t much variety. (My town: “Where Fashion Comes to Die”.)

Almost all of the men wore black shirts and black pants, ranging from street wear to vaguely fetish-y. Among them, two men stood out. One was a furry wearing a dog mascot costume, which in turn was dressed up as Captain Jack Sparrow. (Meta costume?) The other (River) wore a T-shirt and little shorts, both tight, shiny and black.

The women were a little more creatively attired as a group, as is usually the case, but there was still a lot of black (me included). Two women, both subs, were scantily clad in little tops and knickers with enough coverage to be (more or less) decent in public. One of these (Kathy) stood out for wearing mostly red; she also wore a tiny and shiny black pleated skirt that functioned primarily as a belt.

Two women, both very slim, wore corsets and fishnets. Little Bird wore a purple, frilly panties, small gauge fishnets, and a lace choker. Shadow, a dom, wore a black corset with a short black skirt, large gauge fishnets and tall black boots.

Little Bird and River

I know Little Bird from dance, and I’ve met her partner River two or three times. This is the first time we’ve run into each other in the scene, and we were all surprised. When River first spotted me I think it took a moment for him to place me, and then he exclaimed, “What a great top!”

Little Bird and I ended up chatting for quite a while. It turns out that they’re both kinky and poly. Picking up little clues from the conversation, I guessed River to be a switch or maybe a sub. Little Bird came across as sub more than anything, but I wasn’t sure that she was all that invested in kink. (I could have asked straight out, but since I knew them it seemed indelicate. So I stalked them on FetLife after the party. He identifies as a switch and she as a sub.)

In a city this size, it was inevitable that I’d eventually run into someone I knew.


I met Kathy at my second play party, last March. I chatted with her and her male companion and, as I recall, he did most of the talking and she seemed a little distracted but they both seemed nice. I connected with her on FetLife soon after. I’ve run into her again at a couple of munches.

This time we ended up in a circle of about five people. She dominated the conversation with sheer output. She was talking about anything and everything. I was getting bored. I didn’t want to hear about her cute tiny dog. I didn’t want to hear about her dead giant goldfish (which was larger than the dog). I didn’t want to hear about how she could wear yesterday’s sweatpants to work. When she told a short story (about how her elder daughter shared that she had lost her virginity the night before), and then upon completion told the exact same story again in the exact same words, I made a mental note not to engage her in conversation without an exit strategy.


I met Moth a few months ago at a munch. I’d seen her and her partner’s names on the RSVP list, and his name occasionally as an organizer, so I was curious about meeting them. He didn’t talk to me very much but seemed nice. I’ve since spoken to her on a few occasions and we seem to get along.

At a play party about two months ago, I got to watch her topping (she’s switchy). I wasn’t overly impressed. If I recall correctly, she’s been into kink for about six years, active in the community for about two.

I saw her topping again at this party. They had set up a dungeon with four stations in the basement of the house: St. Andrew’s cross, massage table, spanking bench, and something else that I don’t remember. He was on the cross, facing the wall, on the other side of the room from where I and a few others sat surreptitiously watching. She flogged him for a while, and with the way she extended her arm straight back and the length of the flogger itself, it nearly extended to where I was sitting on the spanking bench. After catching a few breezes, I moved out of harm’s way.

Later in the scene I saw her with some kind of rod or heavy cane. By the time I started paying attention, he already had a number of dark welts on his upper thighs. She stood beside him, her left side to his left side so that she was facing the room while he was facing the wall. She purported to be speaking to him, but she was looking at us. She struck him again and again with the rod, awkwardly, with her right arm completely crossing her body to reach him. She didn’t look at her target, and the rod often seemed to skip. She was sort of narrating what she was doing, and there were times when what she said she was doing wasn’t actually what happened, like when she said she was going to hit his ass and the rod then skipped down to his upper thighs. It just looked sloppy.

I thought of a photo that Gawan had shown me of a series of cane welts that he had placed with precision; he was proud of the tidy grouping, and rightly so. I had been considering the possibility of finding a local person to play with, and how it could simplify things if I played with a woman. But it won’t be Moth. I will not let her touch me.


When I reported back to Gawan at the end of the night – that not only had no one hit on me, few men spoke to me and I barely had the sense that anyone who enjoyed the female form even noticed my, um, assets – he was shocked. I was less surprised; people here are overall rather reserved. I wasn’t fussed, since I wasn’t seeking that kind of attention anyway.

Boobday: Linear A

I’m looking forward to my photo shoot trip, which is next weekend, woo! Nothing much to report on that front, except that Lucas just found out that he’ll have to work on one of the days he’d hoped to have off. That was the day we were planning to do some shopping for fetish wear, but with any I’ll still be able to hit a couple of shops, either on my own or together on one of our shoot days.

I’ve arranged to see Mr. PS for dinner while I’m in town. I’ve got some extra time now, so maybe I’ll be able to spend that with him. I’m confident that he has no ulterior motives towards me, but I’d say there’s a fair chance we’ll cuddle on his couch.

I’m going to have to start packing soon. I’m only going for a few days, and under normal circumstances my clothes would fit in a carry-on bag. I tend to be practical, but not quite minimalist. Not yet. If left to my own devices I can easily wear the same pair of pants (that’s trousers for the Brits) for 5 days in a row, but I find it difficult to leave home and commit to wearing the same pants for that length of time. And I’m going to be bringing half of my wardrobe to play dress-up: dresses, heels, boots, lingerie. All the frippery that I would ordinarily leave behind. So my usual strategy of packing everything the day before won’t work so well because my usual packing skillz don’t apply. I have this mental image of little me rolling this big bag along in full princess mode, wearing a tight dress that shows a lot of thigh and my knee-high gladiator “sandals” with the 4″ heel. Yeah, not so much.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been writing less over the last few months. I’ve been busier with work and have had less time to write, and less writing seems to mean fewer ideas for writing, which initiates a vicious circle of less writing, etc. But I might be turning the corner, inspiration-wise at least: I have a play party to write up, as well as most of my visit with Gawan, which was months ago, and my thoughts about where I’m at currently are starting to ripen. I’ve also started posting a bit of serialized fiction, and I’m not ready to drop that story yet. Now the trick is not to get overwhelmed with it all and freeze up.

The other day I booked the flights for a trip to London in early spring. I’m going to Eroticon! I’m looking forward to meeting some of the bloggers who I’ve become acquainted with online and hopefully turn some of those acquaintances into friends. I’m also holidaying with Gawan on this trip, and I have to admit that he’s the bigger draw. Good thing I don’t have to choose 🙂

Aaaand, Molly announced the Top 100 Sex Bloggers 2016 today. I’m very chuffed to have made the list again this year! Why not check out the list and find some good new blogs?

After the play party.

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