What Does A Girl Wear To A Gay Bondage Conference?

ID-100105137So last time we spoke, Toy With Me-ers, I was telling you how I was going to SHOW my zombie neighbors (in my head, of course) what was what by going to a BONDAGE conference in my fair city of Chicago. It was time, in my opinion, to quit living life exclusively in the mini-van and start reclaiming Aunt Becky as she used to be before she had three crotch parasites. Since I had my babies so young, it’s been a long damn time that I’ve had to think about diapers and nap times and an even longer time that I’ve had to split myself into two and frankly, it’s time to let my freak flag fly.

The bondage conference opportunity really just fell into my lap. A friend’s husband works for a major hotel in Chicago and months ago she happened to mention that once a year, during the summer months, the entire hotel is rented out for this conference. I’ve been to this hotel before for Whiskey Fest, for weddings, and even to accept an award for Funniest Blogger (of course, my winning had to have been a fluke because OBVIOUSLY) at the same time as the President of the United States was visiting. Of course, I pretended that all of the Secret Service was there for me because it probably was. It’s not every day that a mediocre blogger wins an award, you see, so the President had to be on hand to wish me well. It’s a shame I didn’t see him, but I’m sure that he was just hiding behind all of the paparazzi, not wanting to draw the attention from me In My Moment.

Anyway, so what I’m trying to get at is that this hotel is fracking HUGE. It’s not like some rinky-dink by-the-hour hotel in a seedy neighborhood in the city. It’s a gigantic hotel right in the middle of downtown, on the river they dye green every year on St. Patrick’s Day. It’s all glass and windows and sun and light and when I stayed there for Whiskey Fest, I’m telling you that it cost me a small fortune. So trying to grasp that the entire hotel had been bought out by one group of bondage loving people was boggling my mind. I’d never imagined that a single group could buy out a hotel for MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND, which is a big ass deal in downtown Chicago because the lake is right there and just, holy shit.

This bondage conference was clearly a Big Fucking Deal and I had no IDEA what to expect.

But of course, the day couldn’t start easily for me because, well, obviously. My leather pants seemed to have been lost somewhere, and my assless chaps were at the cleaners, and my patent leather catsuit just didn’t scream out “I take public transportation.” So, what does one wear to a gay bondage conference if one is not a gay bear? I simply didn’t know.

I settled on something simple: black shirt, blue jeans. I was certainly not dressing for success, but it was also nine in the morning on Memorial Day and I was taking the train into the city. Casually, I bid my family goodbye and hurried over to the train station, determined not to miss the train. When I got to the station, I noticed a shocking number of people waving flags and standing at the side of the road with small children in wagons. A motherfucking parade, I groaned inwardly, hoping that this wouldn’t interfere with my bondage conference as all of the cars in front of me crept along at a snails’ pace.

Finally, I parked and sprinted over to the train station where I expected to see the headlights of the approaching train and a throng of passengers waiting to board. Tumbleweeds awaited me. I was trying to catch a ghost train because I am not just obnoxious, but stupid, too.

As I waited another hour for the following train, the skies opened up and torrential downpours began to soak the three of us who had been too stupid to read the (holiday) train schedule properly. With no shelter, it took about three minutes to be soaked to the bone and I was suddenly glad that I hadn’t bothered to dress up.

Two hours after that, I emerged from the train to a very wet Chicago and then onto to the bondage conference. It’s safe to say that not one of us had any real idea what to expect. I’ve been through my fair share of sex shops and I consider myself to be fairly well versed in both pornography and debauchery and open-minded in pretty much anything that goes, but what would happen at a bondage conference that rents out the entire hotel? Would I gape? Gawk? I mean, I didn’t want to walk around like an asshole with my mouth hanging open like a total jerk, because really, that’s kind of rude, but at the same time, I DID want to properly look at what was going on. It was going to be a fine line to walk, especially since we were going to probably be three of the only women in attendance.

The first thing we noticed was that there was a gigantic sign announcing that the hotel was closed. All of the restaurants, bars, all of the things that would normally be doing a bustling business were shut down entirely, which was completely discomfiting and a sign of the awesomeness to come. Immediately following that was a sign announcing that all of the restrooms were now unisex, which was another awesome sign, because how often do you see something like that?

Our first interesting person sighting was a man dressed entirely in criss-crossed leather assless chaps, his ball-bag covered, but only barely, by a teeny pouch in the front. There were all kinds of silver studs up and down the criss cross leather straps, which bisected his body in the front as well, making him look like the world’s most badly protected biker because he was almost completely naked. Hardcore, yet kind of sexy. Perched atop his head was a leather policeman’s hat, which I immediately began to covet.

The three of us, in an effort not to stare, turned bright red, not because we really cared about what he was wearing, but because we knew that for the first ten or so minutes, it would be culture shock. Then it would be fine, again, something I remembered from my operating room days as a nurse. It’s weird to see an open body cavity until it’s just normal again.

I took my friends aside as we got our tickets and informed them that I had a mission and needed their help. I needed a crystal-studded ball gag. Would I find it? (find out next week)

Free Digital Photos. Photo by adamr.

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0 comments

  1. ken

    becks, don't you own a camera!??! you had something that awesome in your backyard and you didn't take any pics? the photog in me is dying inside.

  2. I had a hard time reading this post because I had to keep scrolling back up to admire the fine chestical area in the picture. I just want to touch it.

    In other news, I recently went to a Garden Show. I bought a really nice plant there. I bet you're jealous of me now because it kind of makes your little conference look silly.

  3. Mary

    The advantages of living in the big city. I would much rather go to Chicago to see all the Major Awesome at the leather conference than see Oprah. Yeah, I said it.

    You definitely need to see Key West. Someday, when I get my implants, I want to see Fantasy Fest. Have you ever seen the work of the guy who paints boobs? Works of art.

    I also want to go to Vegas or wherever burlesque star Dita Von Teese is performing. She really believes in the power of the Bling in her shows. Swarovski crystals everywhere. Why doesn’t my husband understand?

  4. Aunt Becky and I are planning on attending the Bondage Conference together next time 😉 Heads up Chicago!

    Dying to know your plans for the crystal-studded ball gag. Something tells me it won't be it's intended use.

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