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London. When the duo-syllabic, capitol of England is lifted off the tongue, most of the American population envision Royalty with noble smirks, tea in fine porcelain, and rainy, trench-coat skies. But the flock of a different, darker, sleeker feather grins madly at the thoughts of snapping, disciplinarian canes; groveling subs with tea-boy accents; and rubber. Rubber: bouncing, sliding, grinding and buggering rubber.
Every year the Skin Two Rubber Ball proves to be the most glamorous, well dressed fetish event in the kink world. This year, Mistress Senju and I joined the flock of wonderful pervs that gathered to see and be seen, hoping, of course, to be active with more than our eyes. Arriving in the calm city on Friday morn, we tore off on our fetish journey that began with "Hardcore"- an intimate play party thrown in an old factory of Islington. The factory, outdoing the extremities of Warhol's, was filled with slaves and slave drivers. A raw industrial beat hit repeatedly off the cages and crosses, accompanying the whips and moans. In grit and in goods, the party lived up to its name.
Saturday night, Senju and I woke and readied ourselves in time for Torture Garden's sold out venue at the massive club space: the Colloseum. I waded into a dance floor that spilled over with bodies wriggling in lubed up latex. From swing dancing to raving techno, I pranced from cheek to meat with the beautiful Mistress Gemini of LA, Miss Tamara Blue of New York City, and Midori of San Francisco. The rubber lovers of America were well represented.
With gracious rest on Sunday, I was in high gear for the Rubber Ball. I zipped on my slicked, black cat suit as Senju slid into candy red leggings and body suit with wicked pointed nips. We strutted into the Ball just as Midori presented herself onstage amidst a wood of cherry tree nymphs, each uniquely "grown" into Japanese bondage.
The most awesome "tree" (Molly of San Francisco's Madame S) was suspended twenty feet above the stage, hovering in mesmerized bliss.
Dressed in a red, latex, kimono with regal, floor length sleeves, Midori proceeded to cut her garden down, each wilting bloodily at her seven inch heels.
Next to overtake the stage were the fabulous performers of Torture Garden. They are a circus of fire, sparks, and fierce, urban-tribal ritual. From the flaming gymnastics to the midget taunting the stilted man, the spectacle synchronized the state of mind. Even offstage, every person in attendance was dressed in full-tilt regalia. Not a detail overlooked. From cop uniforms to naughty nurses, hooded aliens to body corsets. My favorite, rubber creature was a Zebra. The tall, rotund male was fully striped in a latex suit, hoofed with horsy muzzle. I first spotted this very special specie in San Francisco last March and was delighted to see him again at the Rubber Ball. Amidst the sexy creatures, the Zebra truly seemed to be the most magical of the menagerie.
Salutations, I am Mistress Yin. I invite you to kneel before me, to offer me your body as my canvas. Come to me if you are a true masochist, a bondage enthusiast, and/or a sincere submissive prepared for real training. What some people think of as "fantasy" is really a true part of their self that is hidden, restrained, or denied altogether. Sometimes, these secrets are even kept from our own self- understanding. If you tell me that you are looking for a light, quick session that bears no weight or consequence, I will send you to the movies. The most important element of a session to me is the rapport between us. The previous memoir piece was about a personal submissive I knew very well. I always honor safe words and hard limits. Trust must net your surrender. Be honest with yourself, as well as honest to the Domina- with that clarity, the limits can be pushed.
For more information: www.MistressYin.com
To arrange a meeting, call my personal line: 917-887-8351
Email me: [email protected]
Also at Loeil Cache in New York: 212-989-3286
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