Before the sun came up

I couldn’t wait for it to begin.  I knew it was going to be good but I was nervous and I couldn’t wait to begin playing.  I had been prepping with my cohort for months.  We were throwing a party for 250 women who were flying into New York City.  We rented out two floors at the Vault for Friday night and through a generous friend had use of one of the largest privately held dungeons in NYC for the Saturday night debauchery.  It was a weekend long party which only had evening activities.  We never thought to plan anything during the day.  Why bother?  Everyone would be sleeping from closing down the dungeons at 7:30am.  The rules were explicit—Play ends at sunrise and play like you play at home.

When I arrived at the Vault, it wasn’t until I threw back the cape and heard gasps that I knew I had created what I wanted.  There’s something powerful about brandishing one’s sexuality.  Wearing four chains across my chest tucked into the waist cincher,  a black skirt cut all the way up to expose  the straps of my garter belt, fishnet stockings, along with five inch stiletto’s--  I was brandishing.  I remember that moment as part of a deep lesson about owning my sexuality in full without shame or shyness.  Three of the women who gasped were already on my dance card for that evening.  I had high energy and high expectations. I knew I’d play until the sun rose and sleep was an after- thought.

It was exciting beyond anything I could currently describe to you—I get that in 2010 we’re not overwhelmed usually by finding people who share our kink nor do we feel shock and gratitude at the gathering of like-minded perverts. In 2010 we have lots of options. Then it was a miracle to find someone who shared your kink, much less to enjoy the fruits of this newly developed this network and to have sm lesbian clubs (Lesbian Sex Mafia, Female Trouble, Samois, Bad Girls and soon BbD), it felt like the world was exploding.   It was an astounding occurrence and thrilling.  I had seen this many women gather at lesbian events  but not this many leather women all in one place.  Later with other friends I would throw similar parties called Leather on Line that began in 1994 when something called AOL had became popular but this party was a first in many ways. 

I know I played hard and I had rough and randy scenes – at times it felt like the entire dungeon was screaming at once.  I don’t think anyone was bothered by the noise either.  No one died and we didn’t have DM’s or a community safe word.  We had each other.


 I recall one scene in particular that will remain a special moment in time for me.  A top from the other side of the world who rarely if ever bottomed dropped for me that evening (I still say it wasn’t for me, it was for the shoes!). I respected her (she had two decades of experience at the time) and she respected me.  We could trust each other knowing this was a one-time gig on an unusual night of women.  She need

ed a particular type of scene and knew I could go there with her.  She could trust that I would be unapologetic and hurt her until she cried or fought or did whatever it was she was going to do.  She needed to build up, play hard, and know the top was actually in control.  We had heat and I had bondage on my side.    I had her hands tied above her head and we were in the zone.  When I laid my flails down and came to her to hit her with my hands—to step it up, to personally get my energy up close and personal into her,  knowing I would slam through her body and stand with her—I was in the zone.  We fell deeply into ritualized breathing and spiritual connection.  I raised my open left hand and hit her left shoulder blade connecting fully with all the barbaric, savage intensity of created feral spirituality.  I felt with her and knew I’d be biting her in no time.

In that instant something launched into the air. I saw it first, she spotted it too.  We watched it arc, flying through the air, spiraling towards a beautifully meditative scene with a young woman stretched out on a bondage table.  It landed in the middle of her luscious naked body on her abdomen.  She jumped and her top stepped closer to find out what this red foreign body was---and the howling began.

There was nothing we could do. My very sharp and well manicured red finger nail lay broken and uninvited on her naked body.  I apologized and fortunately was forgiven—as to my scene, there was nothing we could do but laugh with tears pouring down our cheeks.  Sometimes catharsis comes in the most unexpected way.

That moment stands as the best of the best.  I remained spiritually connected to her and laughter didn’t change that.  We went where we were supposed to go and it was such a good time.  That night rocked out hard and I couldn’t be more grateful to have the memories I do that span from the ridiculous to tearful struggle to some of the most glorious warrior moments imaginable.  All of it made me better—especially the laughter.

To the unexpected, to the women who were pioneers and showed up in a dangerous town, attended a dangerous party and were always surprised when the sun came up.

Originally written March 19, 2010 for International Ms. Leather Runbook inclusion.  This is a collection of stories of women celebrating the last twenty years of leather women. This was made as a one year collectible item.

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