DC is a longtime contributor to the MCB
She can be reached at DC.in.Detroit [at] gmail.com
This Friday and Saturday night, Pontiac played host
to what was promised to be the "first annual" Marquis de Sade Ball.
The very name sets my soul alight, so I set to
making my custom-built vinyl corset and made positive plans to be there.
As an added bonus, MCB was covering the event,
so I made sure to get in on the assignment.
There is nowhere MCB won’t go.
I couldn't make any of the events on Friday, nor the lectures
I couldn't make any of the events on Friday, nor the lectures
which took place earlier in the day.
But on Saturday evening I met up with Shane
our MCB photographer (photo set coming tonight)
(how is it that everyone involved with MCB
is so damn good-looking anyway?),
at what's now known as the Eagle Theater. I know it's been a thousand years since that building was Industry, but I'll always fondly remember it that way. The organizers couldn't have chosen a more perfect venue for this sort of event, what with all the nooks and crannies in that building. Plenty of places to explore and dark corners in which to hide (or peek).
Not that many people were hiding exactly. Dungeon furniture was scattered throughout the place, in full view, and it was being put to good use. Well, maybe "good" isn't exactly the right word, but it was definitely put to use. In fact, one of my favorite moments of the night was watching a young woman lashed to a St Andrew's Cross giggling out of control as she was being worked over with a violet wand. One of the spectators next to me said,
Not that many people were hiding exactly. Dungeon furniture was scattered throughout the place, in full view, and it was being put to good use. Well, maybe "good" isn't exactly the right word, but it was definitely put to use. In fact, one of my favorite moments of the night was watching a young woman lashed to a St Andrew's Cross giggling out of control as she was being worked over with a violet wand. One of the spectators next to me said,
"Oh this is just torture --
I mean, when they say tickle torture, I definitely get the TORTURE part."
I said, "You had older brothers, didn't you?"
Photo Cred: MCB's Shane Glenn
Making my way through all the ups and downs of the Eagle, I got a good chance to put an eyeball to all the partygoers. It was not a large crowd, but at this sort of event, it's really more about the type of people than the number. Detroit has a rather loyal and active kink crowd, much of which came dressed in their fetishy best, with quite a few 18th century dandies scattered throughout for color -- including Marie Antoinette herself, who dutifully served cake to the revelers. We were celebrating the spirit of excess, after all.
Photo Cred: MCB's Shane Glenn
Making my way through all the ups and downs of the Eagle, I got a good chance to put an eyeball to all the partygoers. It was not a large crowd, but at this sort of event, it's really more about the type of people than the number. Detroit has a rather loyal and active kink crowd, much of which came dressed in their fetishy best, with quite a few 18th century dandies scattered throughout for color -- including Marie Antoinette herself, who dutifully served cake to the revelers. We were celebrating the spirit of excess, after all.
(And this was AFTER I’d been given an entire box of sticky sweet pastries,
hand-chosen by a very enthusiastic volunteer.)
I did get a vivid reminder of the, let's call it "coziness" of this town of ours when I was buying raffle tickets for the Big Basket of Evil Toys. One of the ticket-sellers looked at me an extra beat before asking, "Do you have a blue car? And a black scooter?" My first thought was he must have been a neighbor of mine, but no... he's just seen me around, online.
I did get a vivid reminder of the, let's call it "coziness" of this town of ours when I was buying raffle tickets for the Big Basket of Evil Toys. One of the ticket-sellers looked at me an extra beat before asking, "Do you have a blue car? And a black scooter?" My first thought was he must have been a neighbor of mine, but no... he's just seen me around, online.
He handled it with perfect humor, smiling broadly
and asking me if I was creeped out yet.
Actually, I found it quite charming because -- and this is very important --
people at fetish parties tend to know how to behave.
This is something that bears repeating.
This is something that bears repeating.
There's a certain tendency for those outside of "the scene" to guess that people who go to fetish/BDSM themed parties must be marauding perverts.
This is exactly incorrect.
Because the activities at these events can be very…dramatic, there are codes to follow and etiquette to observe. This was underlined quite colorfully when I was standing with someone relatively new to these parties as a woman nearby was being treated with a lash. And she was yowling. When he raised his eyebrows, I said,
"She has a word that will make this whole thing stop.
Trust me, she's getting it exactly how she wants it."
There was much more to this party than boot-licking slaves (don't ask -- or do ask!) and howling masochists, though. After all, what good is a semi-nude pervert without the tools of torment? The outer edges of the first floor were ringed with vendors, including hand-made chain maille garments (mmm, slinky metal) and some of the most beautiful natural-material body jewelry I've ever seen (being showcased by a very sweet piercing apprentice from Eternal Tattoos in Clawson). The catwalk on the third floor was transformed into a miniature art gallery showcasing some colorful erotic artworks. Even the windows-side bar on the third floor was in on the act, as an artist performed live portraiture in pastels. I asked him in passing how much he charged, and I could have sworn he said $10, but that's impossibly cheap.
There was much more to this party than boot-licking slaves (don't ask -- or do ask!) and howling masochists, though. After all, what good is a semi-nude pervert without the tools of torment? The outer edges of the first floor were ringed with vendors, including hand-made chain maille garments (mmm, slinky metal) and some of the most beautiful natural-material body jewelry I've ever seen (being showcased by a very sweet piercing apprentice from Eternal Tattoos in Clawson). The catwalk on the third floor was transformed into a miniature art gallery showcasing some colorful erotic artworks. Even the windows-side bar on the third floor was in on the act, as an artist performed live portraiture in pastels. I asked him in passing how much he charged, and I could have sworn he said $10, but that's impossibly cheap.
Labor of love, I suppose.
The main stage was also kept busy with a series of entertainers, including an old favorite of mine, Satori Circus, who performed an 8 minute skit. Unfortunately, he took 30 minutes to do it. Not his best. I was pleased to discover a new act, though; the very talented Dixon on the electric violin, accompanied by one of the slinky dancers who could be seen throughout the evening. Beautiful and very moving, in that way only the violin can be.
A common conversational thread when people discuss or attend BDSM/fetishy type events is the question of why. Why do some people prefer heavy sensation? Why expose oneself so publicly? Why on earth is that man on all fours? Well, if you ever get a chance to attend this sort of spectacle -- and we have every reason to believe you'll get that chance again next year -- at least part of the why may become clear: Because it's fun and because it's fucking hot.
From amongst the marauding perverts,
-DC-in-Detroit
Aside to the man who bet me $100 on my vocabulary:
The main stage was also kept busy with a series of entertainers, including an old favorite of mine, Satori Circus, who performed an 8 minute skit. Unfortunately, he took 30 minutes to do it. Not his best. I was pleased to discover a new act, though; the very talented Dixon on the electric violin, accompanied by one of the slinky dancers who could be seen throughout the evening. Beautiful and very moving, in that way only the violin can be.
A common conversational thread when people discuss or attend BDSM/fetishy type events is the question of why. Why do some people prefer heavy sensation? Why expose oneself so publicly? Why on earth is that man on all fours? Well, if you ever get a chance to attend this sort of spectacle -- and we have every reason to believe you'll get that chance again next year -- at least part of the why may become clear: Because it's fun and because it's fucking hot.
From amongst the marauding perverts,
-DC-in-Detroit
Aside to the man who bet me $100 on my vocabulary:
You still owe me.
I can only consider it a testament to how I look in a corset
that you thought to challenge me at all.
