This area will display Guest editorials.
We will be posting a monthly guest editorial about the Alter Ego event here. If you have a way with words and would like to submit your experience after attending Alter Ego we would like to hear from you. We will be calling on our guest perfermers, old school loyal fetishists, as well as new commers to offer their take on the party.
People don't realize they already live in Sarahdise, they just put themselves through hell. "Josepher Ringleader" Music up, hands everywhere, ruler breaking across my ass... I found myself head down, face-first in the crotch of a newcomer, a biracial beauty who was so meek she barely made a sound as she patted my ass at the behest of Master. He told her she could spank me, but this girl was obviously way too timid. I knew what to do. We danced, she giggled. She opened up like a flower, at her own pace, and beautifully, until, as I mentioned, I was thrust down to my knees by Master and my face positioned in her plaid miniskirt, which was swaying with every undulation of her hips to the beat. She ate it up, and squealed in delight as the attention of the the crowd shifted to our corner. When I stood up again, I was told I would be beaten for being such a bad little schoolgirl. Three teachers and a girl-scout gathered to get their licks in while Master's strong grasp on my hair kept my face buried in his dockers. Come on, is that really the hardest these people can hit me?! Master, please, do something! One particularly rambunctious queer showed me a little attention, and his firmer touch had me dripping through my little lace panties. He couldn't continue, at one point, however... and had to walk away to contain himself from really assaulting me for my stubbornness and refusal to flinch or cry out. Then there was the boy slave. Another sub, who'd I'd seen waiting around earlier. He took a beating from the diva detentioner next, and it wasn't intended, but I think the beating was a reaction to my unwillingness to break. As he was bent, bare-assed and being beaten, I whispered sweet nothings to him and told him he was a true artist for his ability to withstand. He showed me a sweet side, then shoved my face down and let the crowd at me again, as I discovered the hard way he was Au Natural under his plaid kilt. Before I knew it, my ass was being slapped with rulers, hands, spoons, and who knows what else. The crowd grew, and the cameras began to flash. That moment, I felt reborn. Sarahdise is real, and it's sub-space. It's the flash of the camera. It's the sting of the whip, the moment the clothespin is placed on my nipples. Its endorphin and its love. Its chemical, it's physically, it's philosophical. My ex husband, who preferred porn to sex, denied me any sort of pleasure, including that he never once got me off with his tongue or fingers, and often denied me pleasure during sex without a second thought. Forget anal sex, and don't ever ask for fantasy/role play/BDSM of any sort. And so, for almost 7 years I have been denied the kinks that make me feel so alive, and inside, I nearly died, but not entirely. Alis Volat Proppiis. I am still alive. So many things about my kinks are different than I remember, more evolved, enlightened despite many years of abstinence. I was surprised myself how well I took my beatings, and at how little deep bruising I wound up with. I guess it's like riding a bicycle, right? All the years I spent with my ex, I filmed myself, sent him videos and pictures daily in full makeup, lingerie, costumes, etc. I hoped if I was that girl on the screen that maybe he would come home and want me. But that never worked. Over 40 gigs of self-made masturbation videos and photos, wasted by a jerk who told me that it was annoying to receive unwanted sexual pictures all the time, and to please stop. I realized then, I could never stop. I would never stop. I love the feeling of being useful, loved, desired, abused, and used. I love kink and I love BDSM. I love to stand in front of the camera and lose my inhibitions, and I love when I lose my inhibitions and the camera finds me. I never lost my kink. I always kept it alive. Auto-erotic methods of sustaining my needs kept this freak's flag at half staff for a long time, and it's now time to raise it way up high. I can hardly wait for the pics from this party to go live online. I will share what I can, and have several more shoots and parties planned in the near future. So excited, and relieved to be in Sarahdise at last!
Music up, hands everywhere, ruler breaking across my ass...
I found myself head down, face-first in the crotch of a newcomer, a biracial beauty who was so meek she barely made a sound as she patted my ass at the behest of Master. He told her she could spank me, but this girl was obviously way too timid. I knew what to do.
We danced, she giggled. She opened up like a flower, at her own pace, and beautifully, until, as I mentioned, I was thrust down to my knees by Master and my face positioned in her plaid miniskirt, which was swaying with every undulation of her hips to the beat. She ate it up, and squealed in delight as the attention of the the crowd shifted to our corner.
When I stood up again, I was told I would be beaten for being such a bad little schoolgirl. Three teachers and a girl-scout gathered to get their licks in while Master's strong grasp on my hair kept my face buried in his dockers.
Come on, is that really the hardest these people can hit me?! Master, please, do something!
One particularly rambunctious queer showed me a little attention, and his firmer touch had me dripping through my little lace panties. He couldn't continue, at one point, however... and had to walk away to contain himself from really assaulting me for my stubbornness and refusal to flinch or cry out. Then there was the boy slave. Another sub, who'd I'd seen waiting around earlier. He took a beating from the diva detentioner next, and it wasn't intended, but I think the beating was a reaction to my unwillingness to break. As he was bent, bare-assed and being beaten, I whispered sweet nothings to him and told him he was a true artist for his ability to withstand. He showed me a sweet side, then shoved my face down and let the crowd at me again, as I discovered the hard way he was Au Natural under his plaid kilt.
Before I knew it, my ass was being slapped with rulers, hands, spoons, and who knows what else. The crowd grew, and the cameras began to flash. That moment, I felt reborn. Sarahdise is real, and it's sub-space. It's the flash of the camera. It's the sting of the whip, the moment the clothespin is placed on my nipples. Its endorphin and its love. Its chemical, it's physically, it's philosophical.
My ex husband, who preferred porn to sex, denied me any sort of pleasure, including that he never once got me off with his tongue or fingers, and often denied me pleasure during sex without a second thought. Forget anal sex, and don't ever ask for fantasy/role play/BDSM of any sort. And so, for almost 7 years I have been denied the kinks that make me feel so alive, and inside, I nearly died, but not entirely.
Alis Volat Proppiis. I am still alive. So many things about my kinks are different than I remember, more evolved, enlightened despite many years of abstinence. I was surprised myself how well I took my beatings, and at how little deep bruising I wound up with. I guess it's like riding a bicycle, right?
All the years I spent with my ex, I filmed myself, sent him videos and pictures daily in full makeup, lingerie, costumes, etc. I hoped if I was that girl on the screen that maybe he would come home and want me. But that never worked. Over 40 gigs of self-made masturbation videos and photos, wasted by a jerk who told me that it was annoying to receive unwanted sexual pictures all the time, and to please stop.
I realized then, I could never stop. I would never stop. I love the feeling of being useful, loved, desired, abused, and used. I love kink and I love BDSM. I love to stand in front of the camera and lose my inhibitions, and I love when I lose my inhibitions and the camera finds me.
I never lost my kink. I always kept it alive. Auto-erotic methods of sustaining my needs kept this freak's flag at half staff for a long time, and it's now time to raise it way up high. I can hardly wait for the pics from this party to go live online. I will share what I can, and have several more shoots and parties planned in the near future. So excited, and relieved to be in Sarahdise at last!
There are plenty of Fetish parties in various countries around the world. Many boast of being the 'best' or the 'greatest' or the 'largest'. And many people head off to dark corners of bright cities in the hopes of finding an event as glorious as the flyer might have promised.
The Fetish scene has for many years been an underground activity. It has been something people do under a veil of secrecy, amongst the constant threat of discovery by family, friends or even work. I first explored the fetish scene in the 1990s and remember having to dodge puddles down dark alleyways as I hurried from my car to a club venue.
Roll the clock forward to the current decade and in one corner of the world, there is no longer any need to hide your rubber finery in dusty closets, longing for an opportunity to get out and be seen. Enter the world of the Fetish Factory, Fort Lauderdale and arguably America's longest running and largest regular monthly fetish club. I had known about this amazing club for about a decade. I had followed their exploits on the web and had always wanted to try one of their parties. And of all their parties, none is so famous and not-to-be-missed as their annual 4-day Anniversary Weekend which takes place over the Memorial Day weekend at the end of each May. My first opportunity came in 2011 when I was able to mix a business trip with pleasure. What I could never have imagined was just how much pleasure I was about to experience.
It has not been the easiest of journeys for Glenn, Donna and there passionate team. Almost two decades ago, their early attempts to pique people's curiosity and grab their attention involved dressing in head-to-toe rubber catsuits and handing out flyers for their new club night in front of city hall, in the blazing sunshine. Pretty radical for the time when you consider that most people of that era associated rubber with car tires. Some people might call this stunt suffering for their art: others who know better would call it having the courage to let loose the wild explorer present in all of us, but all too often repressed to satisfy frustrated societal expectations. Over the years, they have doggedly persevered with their passion, one borne to allow others to express themselves in a consensual environment amongst other like-minded enthusiasts. Eighteen years later, their annual anniversary extravaganza is now legendary amongst the fetish world and attracts people from every corner of the globe.
There are several aspects of the anniversary weekend which, when combined, set it apart from any other fetish party in the world. The exquisite organisation; the amazing weather; the locations; the costumes; the friendships; and, perhaps the catalyst that makes it all possible, the host hotel. It goes without saying that nothing organises itself and Fetish Factory is no exception. Their staff work tirelessly to ensure every party runs perfectly. Their goal is the same every time; to allow all of their guests to enjoy each event to the full. And while their monthly parties require ongoing organisation and a never-ending list of reminders, their anniversary weekend takes months to prepare and many hours of attendance to ensure everything runs to plan on the nights. The effortless charm of all their staff only further enhances the overall experience. Having been doing it for almost 2 decades, there is not much they do not think of to ensure that people are in the right place at the right time. If you combine this dedication to the incredible welcome of the host hotel, you end up with a near perfect recipe for 4 days of uncontrollable fun.
Having a true 'total takeover' 4-star host hotel for three whole days is what really sets this event apart. The hotel in question is the Fort Lauderdale Marriott North Hotel. I have been to fetish parties in several countries including America, England, Germany and the Netherlands and nowhere have I discovered such a well-organised host hotel in which to find true solace and fetish freedom. Can you remember the last time you turned up to a hotel and received a warm hug and 'welcome back' from the Manager? I received just such a rapturous welcome when I returned to Fort Lauderdale this year. From the very second you step into the hotel, you feel spirits raised and a sense of freedom unparalleled with any other event. It is so liberating to know that you are amongst 600 completely like-minded people. You know that you are never going to be judged, or ridiculed, or looked at strangely out of the corner of someone's eyes. You know that the only comments you are going to receive will be positive interest from someone who just happens to like the look of you or what you are wearing. And you know that for 3 full days, you can wander around in whatever ticks your box: you can have dinner in a full latex catsuit, or breakfast in your dressing gown. It simply doesn't matter what you wear as long as you wear something.
With this level of freedom, people tend to behave differently to how they might when having to mix with others not into the fetish scene. Visiting other cities without a host hotel, one typically has to find somewhere to stay as close to the club venue as possible and then cover anything even remotely risqué with long overcoats or heavily stuffed bags. In a host hotel, the entire vibe is different as one realises that there is no need to hide anything. And it must be said that this Marriott's staff are not only welcoming, they adore the warm-natured fetish crowd and love the bizarrely dressed visions walking through their foyer at all times of the day. This all leads to a much friendlier atmosphere. If you are comfortable enough in your own skin to attend one of these events in the first place, you are far more likely to be open to spur-of-the-moment conversation with friendly looking strangers. And that is what this scene is all about: friendship.
With hundreds of guests all under one roof and with people still flocking to this event after 18 years, what is actually on offer? No fewer than 8 events, back-to-back over 4 days. It kicks off with a welcome party on the Thursday night, around the pool at the host hotel. This is an opportunity to hug old friends who you might not have seen for a year or more and to chat to new people as they relax after journeys from as far afield as Australia and Japan. While there is no strict fetish dress code to this event, many people cannot wait to unpack their latex and stretch their legs in all their glory from the very beginning. This is the evening for newcomers to break some ice and be welcomed and for old friendships to reconnect and deepen.
Friday sees more people arriving and heading to the pool or the beaches to unwind and continue to settle in amongst friends old and new. The wise may even top up on sleep during the day, to prepare for the first full evening of revelry. The 'Beet & Greet' party is exactly what it says on the tin. It is the first official dress-code event and welcomes people from the host hotel and of course the wider fetish community. I think it is testament to the transparency of the organisers that none of the events are restricted to host hotel guests only. There is no elitism here; the very attitude of Donna & Glenn only accentuates the warmth and kindness shown to all their patrons. I believe this is why they have been so successful and attracted such a loyal crowd over 18 years: they truly put the interests of all their guests way ahead of their own. No stone is left unturned in their attempts to provide the happiest, most smoothly run weekend possible. And perhaps one of the most brilliantly staged aspects of the entire weekend is the transportation system set up to eradicate any need to drive if you wish to drink and to be chauffeured from one location to the next. Fetish Factory lay on 60-seater coaches that run from the beginning to the end of each club's official opening hours. They pick you up right outside the foyer of the host hotel and drop you about 10 feet from the club entrance. Not only does this allow people to be driven to and from every club, it also means coats are not even necessary to hide the slightly more shy members of the community. You can walk out the front door dressed exactly as you wish to express yourself without any worry of being heckled by passers-by. It adds the icing on the cake to the freedom aspect of the whole weekend. It even allows people yet another chance to chat and meet each other whilst waiting in line to board a coach. And of course it completely eliminates any possibility of ripping your best latex on your car's gear stick or getting a prop or a toy stuck under the brake pedal, all of which can be hard to explain to a highway patrol officer! Even having read this far, tell me this is not one of the best organised fetish parties in the world!
Anywhere else, the Beet & Greet party alone would be enough to satisfy most fetish pallets. But this is just the beginning of a truly amazing weekend and as the first club draws to a close, the night is not even over. How often have we all been to parties only to face the end with a good dose of anti-climax and that sad journey home, leaving so many friends behind until the next time. This does not happen at anniversary weekend clubs because the party follows you home. People return to the hotel, perhaps with new friends in tow and head for the pool where the music pumps until 5:00am. And knowing you will be going to bed only to arise later that day surrounded by all the same friends and with 5 more parties still to go, there is absolutely no chance of any post party anti-climax. And remember this is still only Friday night.
The basic theme of the next two days is pretty similar. People slowly appear bleary-eyed for a late breakfast/lunch and head to the pool to sunbathe and socialise. Some go shopping; others go to the beaches; the wise grab as much extra sleep as possible to ensure they are fit to party through the next two nights. The main evening event of the weekend is the Saturday night Ball. This attracts almost 2000 people and is a sight to be seen. If you thought fetish parties were all about dimly lit clubs with even darker corners, think again. Fetish Factory hire a huge spectacular nightclub and lay on a string of superb DJs, fashion shows, acrobats, fire eaters and pole & podium dancers amongst superb lighting and visual effects throughout the whole evening. It is a chance to adorn yourself in your very finest, most glamorous and illuminating fetish outfit and enjoy striding out amongst and being seen by hundreds of other happy, fun-loving party-goers. And whereas in many other countries across the Atlantic that host large fetish parties, not many can boast idyllic weather and even a swimming pool around which to relax when the excitement inside the club leaves you breathless and needing to chill out for a while. The fetish factory team really do lay on one of the very best parties in the world and just like the first night, the party does not end as the club closes its doors. People flood back to the hotel pool and swim and dance most of their clothes off until the sun comes up. I challenge you to find any other party on the fetish calendar that offers this level of party intensity over an entire weekend.
Of course any multi-day event has to have a last day; but as you would probably expect by now, the Sunday is not a wind-down sort of a day. It actually ramps things up to fever pitch and tends to be the day which some people prefer the most. It boasts not just the third full-on club night with the customary pool after-party, but also the daytime highlight of the weekend, the official Pervy Pool Party. Imagine hundreds of people all dressed up in all their latex best, ready to attend a big fetish club: now take those people and place them around and 'in' a large pool, surrounded by hundreds more people similarly attired and all under the blazing Florida sunshine. It is one of the best sights you will ever see, anywhere. If you thought people watching on your way to work at your local train station was interesting, then think again. The only limit to the delicious madness you are likely to see at this pool party is within your imagination. Again, I believe it is safe to say that nowhere else on earth do so many fetish enthusiasts gather to celebrate rubbery enthusiasm around a pool in such large numbers. Not even a night around a watering hole in the Serengeti can compete with the strange and beautiful creatures that come out to play on this one May Florida Sunday afternoon each year.
Come Sunday evening, many people are seriously starting to struggle to keep their eyes open. And if it were not for Redbull, I am not sure I could handle the last blast on the Sunday night. Known as the 'Extreme Players Party', once again, it delivers exactly what it promises. Whereas the Saturday Ball is all about seeing and being seen and the breath-taking scale & atmosphere of the large club environment, Sunday night is about raw, grass-roots fetish play. With many people facing work on the Monday morning, it does not attract the near 2000 people from the night before. There is good music and plenty to satisfy one's visual requirements; but this party is all about connecting with your best and perhaps most intimate friends, sharing experiences that might not go down so well in front of your grandparents. Is it a fabulous way to blow off any aroused pressure that might have accumulated over the course of the weekend. To find out exactly what happens behind these closed doors, you will just have to visit next year and see for yourself.
The crowd leaves the players party to end with the last and by now obligatory pool party back at the host hotel. The hard-core party animals will be seen dancing around the pool and bubbling the night away in the jacuzzi until the sun comes up. For the rest, it is a final trip back to their rooms and houses to reminisce on another year of possibly the finest fetish weekend in the universe (Martians in galaxies far, far away are welcome to disagree). I have been to many fetish parties over the last 20 years and thought I had found some pretty good ones until I tried my first Fetish Factory Anniversary Ball in 2011. While some aspects of this weekend can certainly be found elsewhere, it is their overall combination that makes this event unique. I hope I have conveyed enough of the enthusiasm and respect I hold for Glenn, Donna and their whole Fetish Factory team. You will struggle to find nicer, more welcoming people anywhere on the global fetish scene. And the fact that they choose to pour their energies into facilitating their monthly parties and the anniversary weekend is just incredibly lucky for the rest of us. I'll take this opportunity to send them a huge vote of thanks and extend my thanks to the amazing club venues and of course the incomparably kind and welcoming host hotel. And last and by no means least, I thank all of you out there for having the courage to live your dreams and cast aside stereotypical fears of what this is all about to get out and party like there is no tomorrow. Keep it going and please, keep coming back.
I just wanted to say Thanks. We attended the Valentine's Party last year and were very disappointed due to the lack of space and the smoke filled area. This year the new space at Exit 66 is perfect. We brought a bunch of friends who truly enjoyed it as well and plan to come again. It just keeps getting better and better, thanks for the great work. We love you. We are also planning a shopping day to just drive down to Ft Lauderdale to visit the store together as a group, it should be a blast. Thanks for being in our lives and giving us the added excitement we require. You are the greatest.
Thumper and Michael
I cannot thank you enough for putting together such a great weekend!
My birthday was Sunday 5/27 & I couldn't have asked for a better Pervy Pool party to attend (I was even able to force some of my "vanilla" friends to come since it was my birthday ... they had so much fun I almost had them cancelling plans to come out on Sunday night).
I cannot say that I have any complaints about this weekend (except that I don't get to go to another 3-day event until my next birthday). I attended all 8 of the parties & had such a fun time meeting new people at the venues, the hotel & even in the elevators! If there were any issues, the FF definitely made sure they didn't effect the party-goers.
All birthday spanking received & can't wait to go to the next event in June! My first fetish event was the Valentines party (except for one at the Torture Garden in London about 15 years ago) & I have been waiting for this Anniversary since then.
Thanks again for all of the hard work that I know went into putting together an event going over multiple days for a group of people that must be hard to impress. I'm sure I'll be back in the FF store soon looking for some new rubber for the next party (I'm just addicted now).
Hope you all are recovering quickly & I can't wait to see the pictures taken over the weekend!
I just wanted to tell you how incredible and enjoyable the 17 Year Anniversary Fetish Weekend was over Memorial Weekend 2012....
The Marriott hotel takeover was genius and the staff could not have been more helpful, friendly or accepting. At every turn they were there and made us feel at home and went above and beyond to make the weekend special.
We have been coming to your events for more than 6 years and this was the first time we have been able to attend the Anniversary Weekend. We didn’t know what we were missing. I have been on the scene since the early late 80’s in NYC and moved here 7 years ago and was happy when I found the Fetish Factory.
I can tell you that your events are world class and the Memorial Weekend Anniversary event is a whole another level. The venues were amazing and the after parties and pool party inspired. We could not have been happier.On another note I want to personally thank you for assisting our Ms Kitten (Stella) when she accidentally brought the wrong ticket to the Sun night event. You saved the night for her and us! Thanks again!
Disziplin & Bad Zebra
Through being the super uber, forward thinking, and masterful visionaries all those exciting and wonderful 17 wide-eyed & baby-beautiful years ago - You have created, executed, cultivated and literally one by one, earned the trust and respect of each and everyone of your FF family members - accepting of each individuals FF world of taste, style, individualism (if you will) with a keen focus of making their wants, desires or needs in that perfect FF world of their dreams "A Beautiful Reality!!" It's more than that though, it's also the additional "unexpected" that excites us and keeps us wanting and coming back for more month after month - year after year.
So With Much & Most Deserving Exuberant & Cheerful Applause - (Ohhh, AND "Standing Room Only" I might add...) KUDOS TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE To "Each & Every One of You" For Capping Off Another Successful FF Anniversary Party!!" Thank You Glenn For Bringing & Keeping that strong desire of vision 17 awesome years ago to the South Florida locale and forefront. I'm also, very happy to make mention, that for the past 8+ years - the FF Team has been able to expand your domestic success and take that success and quadruple that success in going "GLOBAL!!" Now, there are no walls or limits in adding more and more FF Fans to Glenn's FF World and changing their lives blissfully and happily forever and ever!!!
"Your Journey Awaits Mr./Mrs (Blank) -or- Mistress -or- Master (Blank) - Hmmm... Actually names really aren't necessary - Just Bring Personable Yourself, Your Beautiful Energy, Your Love of Life & FF Welcomes You!!! :-)
HAPPY FF MEMBER "FOREVER & ALWAYS"
~~ SoFloCindy8 ~~
Off to a rocky start but the party must go on....
If I had made a left turn unto State Road 84, maybe I could have rolled my car, which had just gotten a flat tire, directly to Karu Nightclub, making quite a stellar entrance to the Valentine's Day Fetish Ball. But I had made a left off SW Fourth Street when my tire burst. At Andrews Boulevard, I stopped because my car shouldn't go any farther. I laughed. Because now I'm stranded in an immovable car, wearing fetish wear.
I wore my short, red tutu for the Valentine's Day theme. I also had on a black top that covered like a bra, and a thin cardigan, which was open in the front and tied around my torso. I called my brother for help. I waited 15 minutes and found out that he hadn't left yet. Didn't he know I still wanted to go to the party? I sent that text. He called: “You know it's going to take at least 45 minutes to fix the flat, right?" What? Fuck that, I said. I told him I would move my car to a parking lot, which was about 100 feet away, and walk to the party. It was close to 1 a.m. We could handle this at 4 -- and, to boot, that means I now had a designated driver.
I creeped through a car dealership, so I wouldn't be seen from the road. I tried to run to get there faster, but my top fell down. And I thought, from the lack of clothing I was wearing, that maybe I looked like a victim running. I would just speed-walk. I untied my cardigan and wrapped it around me. Then, when I hit U.S. 1, I realized this whole time I had been going in the wrong direction. Karu was not east of U.S. 1. But I heard club music – maybe I was wrong? -- so I ran across Federal in my tutu.
Once I got to the sidewalk, it was clear that this was a hip hop club by the line of clientele waiting to enter. Thugs. Two men and one lady heading there were right behind me. The lady said very loudly to her two male friends, making sure I'd hear: "What the fuck is this girl wearing?" Now she decided to talk directly to me: "I know you're freezing your ass off." I must look like an idiot in a tutu to her, so I said: "You're right. I am," and turned around and ran right back across US-1. Fuck.
Well, I had already made my brother get ready, so I gave him a call. I told him I was walking like mad to Karu, but that he should get in the car and take me the rest of the way. He caught up to me by the time I had made it back to SW Fourth Street because I had stormed there. I lied. I told him I had to attend the party, mentioning it was for work, to guarantee my arrival. He dropped me off, said he'd fix my car while I was in there, and would pick me up at 4 a.m.
I made it. I was inside the party at 2 a.m. The only fix from such a debacle, from such the week that I had, was to absorb as much of the intense, positive energy that I could. And the only place I was going to find that in one room was at a FF party. All the folks getting sexually and mentally satisfied emit that sort of carnal energy for everyone else. The fix.
The party became more of a well-needed hang out with friends. I watched them try to meet their goals for the night. They (both males) were busy seducing a straight guy's girlfriend just to get the straight guy into the bedroom. The ol' bait-and-switch.
After the party, my brother, seeing everyone exit the club, said: You just wanted to go. You lied. And I said, I did. But he understood.
Check out this great editorial by Mss Tokyo on TheFetishistas.com:
Sweet 16: Another Excessively Divergent Gonzo Retrospective
Short version: Fetish Factory’s 16-Year Anniversary Fetish Weekend? I was there. Front row, basically. Had a good time. I would say it was pretty fantastic.
Long version: I’ve been a horsepower guy here at FF, driving the machine while simultaneously being crushed in its rusty industrial gears for fucking ever. Yeah, I’m still jaded. The jade is layered on pretty thick at this point; thicker every passing year. Going to parties steady since 1999 or 2000, there is little that is shocking and even less that is really interesting. I’ve been to hundreds of parties. If that’s not true, it sure as shit feels like it is.
Now, for me to sum it all up with “pretty fantastic” may mean something.
I’ve curbed my party attendance in favor of playing local rock shows, seeing friends’ bands, going on weekend getaways to Gainesville, friends’ birthday parties, art galleries, social hangouts, sporting events, beer-brewing parties – what have you.
Had I experienced a fetish party burnout? Perhaps. I needed a change of scenery to freshen things up. I was hoping that if and when I got back to the party, whenever the hell that was, I’d be recharged, and maybe – just maybe – I’d once again bask in the excitement, allow myself to enjoy it; maybe even have some fun.
May had arrived. In Florida, you can always tell because the tourists suddenly retreat from the shitty hot weather.
We were weeks away from the Anniversary Fetish Weekend, and I felt as far from the scene as I had in years, or at least as disconnected as a graphics guru can feel while still working in the belly of the beast. It’d been so long, I wondered if I’d even recognize the party.
FF owners Glenn & Donna were impressed with my emcee duties at the Brass Knuckle Bombshells burlesque show. They pulled me aside at the end of the night and offered me the job on the spot as the emcee for the Anniversary’s main event. Certainly it was an honor; a much-appreciated nod to the work and time that I’ve put in for the company. I jumped at the opportunity. I’d been gone for long, but what a way to come back.
So I’m going back into the party after a long 7 months away. I wonder how it’s going to be; who will be there. Mostly, I’m questioning my ability to really, truly enjoy myself at a fetish party. How great it would be to attend for the first time and feel that tremendous sense of discovery and excitement.
I know it seems preposterous, dear reader. I know you’re laboring over my doubtful words with such an excitement for the decadent chaos of fetish parties and the taboo thrill of the fetish lifestyle that my apprehension just doesn’t compute. I assure you, dear reader, any good thing in excess can eventually get old, even something as good as this.
I arrive early to the Beat & Greet on Friday. This is my first time walking through the doors at Sky Nightclub even though FF has been hosting there for the better part of 2011. I find a beautiful venue with an interesting, almost organic layout, and I’m greeted by old friends as soon as I walk through the door. As the night goes on, I find myself more and more caught up in the swell of energy. I soak up the raw excitement of the night, the warmth of old friends, the pervy passion, the twisted beauty.
Pace yourself – or else! It’s very easy to blow your load in the first night. Don’t take that literally, dear reader, unless you want to. I’m of the opinion that it only takes about 3 hours to absolutely party yourself to death, even if you are a seasoned party veteran. A fetish party is about 5 hours if you get there at the start. If you want to hit the afterparty, you can add another 2-3 hours. If you’re in good graces with Fiorella & Tom, you can add on another 5-6 hours at the hotel with hard liquor. If you’re friends with Matt Havoc and his posse of pansexual party monsters, it’ll be a continuous 24 hour cycle that only ends in the ER. Pick any 3 hours anywhere within that party calendar and you can ruin yourself in short order. Get careless and you’re done, son.
You can see how you might be well-advised to take it fucking easy until you get to the homestretch on Sunday night, that is, if you’ve got anything left in the tank by then.
This isn’t to say you shouldn’t party. Quite to the contrary. You need to keep it going for three days and nights with very little in between but the occasional pedialyte martini. Non-stop marathon partying is the sort of thing you should train for, not unlike an actual marathon. Get your body ready ahead of time with diet and exercise, and build up a tolerance to your poison(s) of choice. While in the thick of the weekend, replenish yourself for the further damages to come.
But I digress. Friday was blowing up. The crowd was great, everyone looked amazing, and the party was fantastic. Between the old friends, the energy, and the latex girls, I have very few complaints about the night, if any. I had a fucking blast from start to finish.
Saturday, I got to experience an event from an entirely new perspective. My job as the emcee was to make sure the crowd gets worked up, announce the performer, and occasionally make some announcements. I’m no stranger to a stage or an audience, and I always relish the opportunity to take a mic and wind up a crowd. Getting to address 1,500 of my fellow perverts was a special pleasure and honor this year.
In my times off the stage, I was in the crowd, out by the pool, or maybe off in the changing room with the models and performers, sneaking an ice cold can of Pabst from my cooler (note to self: be sure to include a case of PBR in my rider next year). The night flew by. I felt like I barely had a moment to rest before I was back on the stage to start the next show.
Two nights in a row now I’d not only had a good time, but I’d had a fucking blast. Yes, me. Jaded old FF stalwart Timb who’s seen and done it all. What the hell was going on here?
Plans to head back to the hotel after the party fell through. Fatigue finally won the night. I knew it was obscenely late when we pulled into a Taco Bell just after 5AM and the drive thru was closed. A closed Taco Bell means, in no uncertain terms, “go the fuck to sleep”.
The third night was Sunday… the “extreme” one. All I could figure about the party once I got there was that it was extremely packed. The Manor is by no means a small venue, but the place was shoulder to shoulder in every room. For a party known for its “unlimited play”, this night was just too crowded for any of it.
It was also extremely humid outside. The hot day had been steamed out by a quick rain in the evening that just stuck around and turned the whole city into a sauna. I was dying, so I could only how you must have felt in your latex catsuit and hood, dear reader. You are a braver person than I.
After wandering every inch of the labyrinth Manor, I finally found sanctuary in the most remote room; a dungeon play area of sorts with dark red lighting. In this far room, the crowd had not yet packed in, the air conditioning felt lovely, and there was a modicum of space for a few floggers to fly.
Here, I witnessed a silver-haired master who put on a clinic of a scene with a young girl. My friends and I enjoyed his scene so much that we came up to compliment him afterwards. He was warm, soft-spoken and very intelligent. He even graciously offered a scene to my friend. She thanked him for the offer, saying she may take him up on it later in the night.
As the night pressed on, the crowd began to thin out, maybe because of the filled capacity, or maybe just because it was so muggy on all of the outside areas of the club. The effect normally would be a wind-down, but since this party hadn’t really gotten underway yet, the energy was actually climbing. Perhaps sensing the end of the weekend, many people decided to go for broke. Either way, Sunday was going out with a bang, not a fizzle.
Again, this is that homestretch I was talking about. If you’re going to get wrecked and party yourself to death, the last 2 hours of the final event is when you go for it.
Circling the club, my friend had found the gentleman master once more. She finally decided to take him up on his offer. The masterful scene did not disappoint. The way he handled the flogger, controlled the tempo of the scene, and brought a stern yet gentle sensuality… well, we were all very impressed, especially my friend who was up on the St. Christopher’s Cross on the receiving end of this delightful torment.
As the night came to a close, we actually reconvened with our group, offering the gentleman master a ride back to the hotel for the afterparty. It’s amazing how easy it is to make friends at these events and how quickly you can find trust in someone who was, mere moments ago, a complete stranger.
Although FF had hosted three, this afterparty on Sunday was my first of the weekend. I had attended all of the nightclub events in full, but I had missed out on much, if not all, of the auxiliary partying like the pre-weekend dinner, the cocktail lounge, the bdsm classes, and of course the pervy pool party. I heard good things about all of them this year.
Hanging by the pool with a hodgepodge of fetish friends at 5 in the morning, I reflect on the long weekend. I feel like I’m watching the campfire slowly die down on the last night of some twisted summer camp. Not unlike camp, I’ve been through this memorable and unique experience with a very distinct group of friends, and here we find ourselves at the end, ready to turn the page. We go back to our regular lives or maybe we feel sentimental, mourning the end of a profound experience. Personally, I prefer to celebrate until there is no celebration left. There will be time to mourn in the morning, if you’ll pardon the cheese.
Monday saw a much-needed day of rest. I had exhausted myself to some extent, and I was going to wake up with the beginnings of a nasty sinus infection on Tuesday. Monday was reserved for sleeping in, eating leftovers from the fridge, and just reflecting on an incredible weekend where old friendships are celebrated, new ones are forged, and kinks in general are indulged.
That night, my friends and I were treated to an incredible acoustic performance by Bonnie “Prince” Billy at a local record store. I knew little about him but that he was considered a master of his craft by many, and had enjoyed the few songs that I’d heard. The performance was beautiful, haunting and organic, quickly surpassing my non-expectation. The three-piece acoustic act performed without any sort of amplification in an oddly-lit room packed with local songwriters and musicians. Many in the crowd were old friends of mine outside of the fetish scene whom I hadn’t seen in years.
By the start of the second song, my eyes were welling up. I’d felt like I’d been punched in the heart. I’d been flying high all weekend long, and now it was back-to-earth time.
It was the sort of crazy weekend that really opens up the emotional pores, so to speak. This was the perfect nightcap to the insanity; a sort of comedown from where we’d been back into real life. But it was a beautiful and perfectly appropriate end to the story.
I suppose to really understand, you’d have to have been there and walked the weekend in my enormous platform boots.
All in all, I’m not really moved by much when it comes to fetish parties, or this scene in general, at least not anymore. But this weekend was really incredible. I was honored to be so intimately involved with it, being the emcee this year, but it was also just a blast for me as a partygoer and fan of the scene. I felt like a born-again fetish-partier. As I’d hoped, there was certainly something fresh and new about all of this once again.
I can’t wait for next year, but honestly, I don’t know how anything is going to compare with the party that we may long remember as the “Sweet 16”. It will always be a very special and somehow magical memory of mine for a long time to come.
There are parties and then there are events. Parties you attend, mingle, dance, flirt, perhaps meet some interesting people. You experience an event. Events stay with you for a lifetime.
It is attention to detail that creates the proper setting for the creation of an event. Well attended to details create the seamless backdrop to this event and provide the environment for our kinky ethos to thrive. The devil is in the details. FF has grabbed that devil by the horns and rode him hard. Details are a funny thing. You often tend not to notice them because they are as they should be. But then you take a moment to step back and observe. And say, “Wow. Someone put their heart and soul into creating this.”
Thus, the stage is set. The players simply need to act.
So let me set the stage of last year’s party. Five of us arrive at the Ft. Lauderdale airport from North Carolina and immediately get shuttled to the hotel. Checking in at the front desk, each clerk wears a black faux leather biker hat and a smile. The hotel already teems with kinksters in latex, leather, skin, chains, and heels. As we wait for all of us to get checked in, another hotel staffer offers us a glass of complementary champagne. After running upstairs to throw our stuff in our rooms, we quickly make our way back downstairs to catch the limo ride to the Fetish Factory where we shop and return with bags full of fun fetish toys and garb.
The hotel staff genuinely enjoys us. I get the feeling that each employee vies to work the weekend just to be a fly on the wall of our event. And the details simply continue to be attended to all weekend. The staffing at each of the parties: bartenders, greeters, hosts, photographers, performers, emcees. The venues. The music. The decorations. The shows. The lighting. The dress code.
With the stage thus set, the play begins…
Day 1. This is the third Anniversary Party for my Husband and I. We bring three close friends from NC this year: a couple, James and Juliette, and single lady Firefly. That first afternoon after returning from the store, I wander to the pool, vodka-soda in hand, to find these friends, already engaged in conversation with the gorgeous fetish model who will perform later that night. Other sexy characters whom we’ve never met before also stop by and chat or walk by, wave, and smile. The social dynamic begins to swirl. There are no strangers here… only people we haven’t met before.
At the Sea Monster Beat n Greet party that night. The music thrums walking in the front door. A person dressed as a blow-up doll, I think of her as Dolly, walks in front of me – full latex bodysuit head to toe, including a full latex head, face with pursed lips. Lights shine off the dance floor, twinkling as sexy go-go dancers writhe in front of them. Meandering through the crowd getting that initial teasing taste of the weekend to come. Sexy, freaky, friendly, people everywhere. My Boston girlfriend who I hadn’t seen since last year’s party when she’d squirted all over my face, grabs my hand and drags me on the dance floor. We kiss and laugh and wriggle.
Back at the hotel for sex with Sir, an outfit change, then out to the after hours pool party. DJ is set up already, lights are swirling. More latex and leather dancers. Latex people swimming. I dive in too. Even the water feels sensual as it glides across my latex and skin. After a couple laps and flips, I swim over to the side for conversation with Firefly as she tries to verbalize her experience, “It’s like a Burn. But no camping. There are clean bathrooms, a comfy bed, and outrageous latex costumes…” I hear my name called and look to identify the source. My DC dominatrix girlfriend Rebecca is there with hot latex pants, bra, and a kiss. I met Rebecca at last year’s party. Within an hour of meeting me, she informs me she will teach me to squirt. And in the following year, she does. We wander over to the hot tub together and intermittently talk and touch.
Day 2. Lunch served up by Mario, the friendly flamingly fun waiter. He’s as happy as a clam to be working and it shows. “Big pour, big pour!” And of course earns “big tip” in return. Then out to the pool for more sun, snoozes, and relaxing. Then up to the hotel room for more yummy sex and a real nap before the Ball.
That night, we wait for the buses. And wait. And wait a little more. But no worries. Even hiccups such as this are tended to straightaway. The hotel and event staff start calling taxis in by the droves. Just turns out it was a long trip down to the club and back.
Enter Club 66 through the back door. Cabanas. A pool with rotating colors of light shimmering up through the water. Inside. Three floors of balconies surround the dancing area and stage. Bars on each floor. The bass reverberates through my molars and whirls within my chest cavity. Smells of silicone and leather as bodies slide by. Many strobes of light flash off the mirrored ball reflecting patterns across the crowd. The reflective patterns appear to undulate with the music. A nice illusion caused from the movement of the crowd writhing in rhythm.
One moment flows into the next but the images of faces, of costumes, of skin, of eyes, of bodies, stay frozen in my mind for several seconds. I look away as I try to return my consciousness to the moment at hand. But there is another beautiful face, costume, skin, eyes, or body wherever I turn. My mind overflows from image processing. Over, and over, and over, as we move upstairs. Crosses and benches, thwaps of floggers, snaps of single tails, smacks of paddles, buzzes of violet wands. We reach the third floor to find there is an outside balcony.
The gentle breeze off the ocean sweeps through my hair and across my face. The smell from the ultimate solution assails me with olfactory hues. Look out. See the vast ocean dissolve into nothingness across the horizon. In stark contrast, look down. Swarms of people on the street observing us observing them observing us. Dizzy! Need grounding. We find our way back to the cabanas and pool.
My latex corset and posture collar are squeezing the breath out of me. Someone wriggles off the latex corset. Ahhh…. I rub my hand across my skin feeling the bumps and the divots left from the corset. Breath, heaven sent. Someone else wants me to take off the collar. “NO!” Just let me lay by the side of the pool and dangle my arm and leg through the cool water. Cool cloth on my head. “I’ll be fine, promise.” I can breathe now without the corset. Sexy Kitty Dom from the FL Keys talks with me and I’m enraptured by her face, her voice, her body and sweet words. She’s so kind and so sexy. Friends and those who I don’t know but aren’t strangers come by and say hello, come to check in on me. “I’m still fine, promise.” Fire spinning in the corner. I lay on my side arm and leg still dangling in the water as I watch the fire twirl round and round.
Finally, my breath fully restored, the world no longer spins when I stand. I make my way back inside to catch what is left of the performances. On stage, the performers! Are they carrying guitars? No, those are sanders. Power tools, of all things. As they dance to the music and thwack the sanders to the rhythm against their metal belts, sparks fly! Industrial music begets industrial performance. Brilliant. The final act takes the stage. A hoop is lowered from the ceiling. She takes hold and is hoisted up and up over the crowd. Her body so strong, so nimble as she glides body parts around, under, and through the hoop. The hoop lowers her to the stage and she pierces herself repeatedly with long pins adjoined to a feather cape. And then back in the air to fly again with the cape. My Sir finds me. The bus is here, time to go…
The late hours that night are a bit vague because I was blindfolded for most of it, led around the hotel by Sir. Flogged in a room full of people I didn’t know and couldn’t see. Lovingly abused, yet well cared for in Sir’s capable hands.
Is it really Day 3? The sun dawns as we snuggle in bed. Sir and Firefly are sleeping. The Florida dawn sun draws me though. I quietly pull myself out of bed, putting on my latex bikini bottoms and a cotton mustard yellow long sleeve tee. The pool is mostly deserted. A few people passed out on loungers and a small crew including the industrial performers from the Ball laughing, talking, and drinking whiskey in the hot tub. The event staff has been firm about no nudity poolside but I figure at this hour it probably won’t matter. I take off my shirt and ease myself into the pool for a swim. I slowly breast stroke forty lengths or so, reveling the feel of the warm dawning sun and gentle lapping sound of the water as my body slides through it. I decide to head over to the hot tub and meet some new faces. They warm to me, though it is apparent they are not sure what to make of me, this rather normal looking chick in the mustard cotton tee. But I introduce myself and join their conversation, mostly listening and laughing at their antics. I wander back to my lounger for my phone to see if any of my people are awake to find a text on my phone from Rebecca asking “Are you awake”? I excitedly reply “Yes! Where are you?” “By the pool!” she responds. Laughing, I look up and over to the far side. There she is.
After some chatting and play in her room, we find James and Juliette. Since the pool isn’t open we find a deserted veranda, have a cocktail, and a bite to eat. Juliette and I attempt naked yoga as we await the pool to re-open. A couple bruises later, we sit at the edge of the veranda and watch as they set up for the afternoon pool party. As setup nears completion, we don our bathing outfits and head to the Sunday afternoon pool party. The DJ’s begin to spin as we find some loungers to soak in more rays. The first anniversary party we attended, I wondered what it would be like to see these nighttime creatures in full sun. Now it seems completely natural – rubber and water go well together.
The party builds. Man wrapped in cellophane, several full body latex outfits including Dolly again, sexy latex bikinis, and everything glam-rubber under the sun. Literally. We swim and dive and play. I sit on the edge of the pool while a hotel staff member chuckles as he skims the pool free of silicone. In line for food, I overhear an adorable dominatrix mention to another that she’s had a bit of a rough time this weekend. I’m touched by what she says and want to let her know there are so many, many wonderful people here. I lightly touch her shoulder, smile, and tell her I’m glad she’s here, how beautiful she is, and I’m happy for her that things are getting better. I introduce myself, as does she. Viv gives me a warm smile and says thank you. My heart melts.
Enter Solid Gold for the Extreme Party. James and Juliette head over first; Firefly and I finish dressing, following not too far behind. Sir and Rebecca are running on their own patient time, so we all agree it is best to meet them there. Firefly and I wander, talk, observe. Transvestites in exquisite French Victorian finery; pony boy; rubber furries; fetish contortionist onstage manipulating her long, exquisite muscular limbs and torso up, down, and all around the stripper pole. The final stage act for FF15, which puts the Extreme in the name of the party. Cabaret, fetish performer, masochist. She places a needle in her arm, draws blood, shoots it into a glass of champagne, and drinks deep. The poor vanilla bouncer for the stripper club sits at the foot of the stage in front of us, wide-eyed and visibly disturbed. I am amused yet try to imagine what it would be like dropped into this world with little context.
Sir orders me to the spanking bench. My head is lost in Rebecca’s bosom and sweet kisses as Sir quickly warms my ass then rails me with heavy-handed thwacks, paddle, and riding crop. I find headspace, I float. Like helium balloons, strings tightly held by my protective keepers, I stay grounded. Sharp, quick pains on my rear. Trusted Sir takes me to this realm. Sharp tugs on my hair and wet kisses on my mouth roughly hold me there.
Time to go. On the way out, I see my friends from the morning pool adventure. I call out “Hello! It’s my hot tub friends!” and wave. They do a quick double take, laugh, and wave in return recognition. As we wait in a long line for the bus, I spy Viv. She is with another striking dominatrix, Deanna. We all decide to split a cab back to the hotel. I smile at Viv and Deanna, regarding their firm yet kind dominatrix mannerisms as they direct the cabby.
A quick outfit change then down to the pool party. Firefly gets zipped by James and roughly unzipped and caned by a NY Tribe sexy sadist. Sir has Deanna work me with her vicious single tail then takes over himself with his. I can’t sit, so wander over to the dance floor where I dance with the handsome Canadian - a debonair, muscular and broad-chested man in a wheel chair. I am slack jawed with his coordination in that chair as he spins me round and reassures me I need not worry about my toes. Yes, so very apparent. We move off the dance floor to chat and once again find myself swept away, connecting with yet another unique and charming soul.
The party is clearing. Hotel staff is pretty much begging us to leave though obviously empathize too with our desire to stay. It’s hard to say goodbye. I begin to feel torn with a desire to spend more time with my new friend yet Sir has other plans. My desire doesn’t matter now.
This is the beauty of submission. Desire is simplified. There will be more time my friend! Sir calls. I desire Sir, as I desire to obey him. The rest of the play is denouement. The curtain falls.
FF Hallowen Fetish Ball 2008
an editorial by Timb | photos by MisterVibe
October is a spectacular time of year and Halloween is definitely my personal favorite holiday, no question about it. There are many reasons why this spooky night is far superior to more widely celebrated holidays such as Christmas, Thanksgiving or Easter.
Halloween is creative – figure out your costume, put together something. Buy a fancy one if you can afford it, or put together some ingenuity and assemble something clever from bits and pieces.
Halloween is all about cheesy horror – that’s been a staple of my pop culture interests since I was very young. I just can’t get enough Romero zombie films, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Freddy, Jason and the like. A holiday that brings horror to the forefront is more up my alley than a strap-on dildo.
Halloween is adult – you may think this is a kid’s holiday, but you’d be wrong in your assumption. Sex is not for kids, and no longer is Halloween. Each year, this holiday becomes more and more adult as urban legends about poisoned candy corn make their way through the media and paranoid parental units lock up their young at home. But when the moon is high in the sky, these same parents greet the babysitter. They head out to the block parties and fetish extravaganzas to get hammered (and maybe even nailed) in their skimpy, sexy costumes.
Halloween is sexy – 80s rockers Motley Crue call out Halloween and New Years Eve as the two sexiest occasions of the year in one particular song that gets much play at your neighborhood titty bar. I’m not one to agree with glam metal misogynists too often, but this time I can’t part company. Halloween is one damn hot night where you could - and very well should - get your freak on, whether you are a disciple of the game, or just interested in the sport of the chase and the keep-your-hands-clean fun of flirting. This party, the Halloween Fetish Ball, is living, breathing proof, and this year was no exception.
This year’s event set a new high-bar for Fetish Factory with over 2,100 of our fetish friends confirmed in attendance. That’s massive. In 14 years of live fetish events, never have we had so many kinky friends in the house at one time. Let me be clear about this statistic. This is not the usual industry-inflated number to try to impress the local dirtsheet media and the other large fetish parties of the world. This is for real. There were a confirmed 2,100+ filling massive Club Cinema to the rafters.
The amazing thing is that these awesome numbers don’t really make the party so much as the energy that these friends bring with them. Small events can have a great vibe too, and many people actually prefer them, but when you have big numbers and big energy, that’s a recipe for an insane, kinky night you will not soon forget!
Dressed in my staple Alice in Wonderland costume, I spent the day helping out at the Fetish Factory store with the hustle and bustle of last-minute Halloween customers looking for something unique. I greeted dozens of customers throughout the day and helped them pick out their costumes and accessories, advising them on this or that. Some were having fun, others were stressed or in a hurry, but in the end, they complimented me on my Alice costume, promised to see me again later that night at the big event, and left the store with an outfit that couldn’t wait to wear.
I had a lot of social obligations on Halloween which is no surprise. It’s business as usual for an arugula latté-sipping fetish socialite elitist at the heart of this pretentious fetish scene. All of my friends, both kinky and vanilla, like to get together on Halloween and celebrate, showing off their clever (and not-so-clever) costumes and enjoy a dozen or more drinks together, so after getting off work, I made my way to the Halloween Fetish Ball between house parties.
My girlfriend had an obligation to attend her friend’s birthday / Halloween party this same night and couldn’t make the Ball, so I was cut loose. I decided to go it solo, and while I missed her, being at a party alone is a very different experience than attending with a significant other. I see more, I socialize more, and, though it is innocent in practice, I flirt more. Tonight would be no exception. She definitely missed out on one hell of a party if I dare say so myself.
Strapped tight into a corset and collar, and lifted towards the ceiling my massive platform boots, I looked as if Alice had just ate a piece of the mushroom and was now 10 ft tall. I kept on my sexy, skimpy crossdressing costume for the night and headed out to Club Cinema, initially just intending to “pop in” before heading off to the next obligation.
As soon as I entered the door, I could tell that something special was happening. This party was insane, even by my extremely jaded standards.
This was not going to be just some short “social appearance”. I rolled in around midnight and I could already tell that I should have gotten here at the beginning of the night; I had missed so much already. The party had just come to a roaring boil. The place was bursting at the seams with energy. The incredible fetish shows were already in progress, and my friends were already meeting, greeting, and beating each other for fun. The dancing, drinking, flogging and flirting had begun without me!
Walking into the main room was an overwhelming sensory experience – the bass of the music like the quickening heartbeat of some mythical colossus – the lights pulsed through the masses of the dark space like bolts of lightning, piercing lasers and flickering electricity – the brilliant colors of the costumes, and of course the undeniably beautiful attendees themselves – all filling this cavernous, multi-room, multi-level venue from top to bottom. The screens over the stage flashed live-generated and simulcast VJ imagery that spread out in psychedelic patterns to the beat of the pounding dance music. The decorations transformed this old theater house-turned-concert venue into an otherworldly landscape that only a Fetish Factory party can create.
I looked to the stage as my new friends Stryker-Vawn put on a sultry, debaucherous performance. The voyeurs in the audience definitely took note of their super-sexual, uninhibited exhibition. The impossibly shaped demoness body of Vawn slithered and twisted on the stage box like some salacious serpent, as Stryker, in futuristic red scale armor straight out of an H.R. Gieger sci-fi, put his lusty lover through the gauntlet – candle wax, corporal public punishment, teasing, torment - finally inserting a devil-tail butt plug as she threw her head back in ecstacy and accepted the invading penetration. Her costume finally complete, Vawn arched her back on all fours atop the box and whipped her devil tail around the stage, licking her lips at the lusting onlookers.
I made my way to the side room of the club – a smaller dancefloor and a notoriously popular area for the BDSM players. Spread out throughout the club is Fetish Factory’s staple bondage equipment installations, and the players take advantage. Mistresses and Masters put up their favorite submissive slaves for all to see as they dish out a delicious public punishment.
I met up with friends, both new and old, and ran into my old friend Tom O’Shields who was wielding the camera as usual, and brought my nearby friends in close for a photo. I then got dragged onto the dancefloor for a few select songs of the energizing DJ Godfather spun set.
The night, nearing the 2am mark, was finally coming to a close, but no one wanted to sneak out early to “beat the crowds”. These partiers were going to stick it out until the last second when the house lights come on and the music finally grinds to a halt.
This is the party that the people made, and without them, it would just be an empty room with some expensive decorations and one very disappointed promoter. Clearly, when times are tough and life seems strange, this is the best time to put your worries aside and indulge to excess for one evening with your friends, and there is no better night than Halloween.
All in all, this was a record-setting night for attendance, but more importantly, this was one hell of a party. If you were there, I’m sure you’d agree. If you missed this one, you definitely missed a sexy spectacular – a classic in the making. Don’t miss out next year. I am definitely looking forward to Halloween 2009 and feel especially energized about the upcoming monthly parties. I tip my hat to you, our loyal friends, who continue to support the local South Florida scene, allowing Fetish Factory to be the fetish party pioneers of the world.
See you next year!
I had an amazing time on saturday. Got there a bit later than expected but it was great, i walked in the door through the black curtins and i felt as though i was blown away by all the energy in the room. the performances were nothing I've ever seen before an it just made me want to get deeper and deeper into the fetish scene.
Sunday, was a bit slower than i would have imagined, that was before I went to the room behind the stage, or upstairs. the suspension performance was like nothing I've ever seen, I definitly couldn't hold it in, I told all my friends about it the next day...and, I even have a 100 dollar bill to prove I loved the performance, I kinda wish I could have gotten the to the club earlier too.
I loved every minute i was there Saturday and Sunday, even at the hotel after Saturday night, it was all amazing. I cant wait to go next year!
This party was absolutely kick ass, where do I start??!! The venues it was held at (Club Cinema & Coliseum) which was the perfect backdrop to a fetish party full of creative, imaginative, fabulously fetish dressed, eclectic and socially friendly people I have come across since I relocated here from NYC. All the creative energy, time and effort Glenn & Donna put into creating this party was WELL worth it and I must commend them and say thank you for making this night a night to remember for Myself and many others. I saw people that I have not seen in a long time and met new and wonderful people that I connected with. People came out in such fierce outfits dressed to impress and to fulfill there own personal fetishes. I was only able to attend the VIP party, Beat & Greet and then the Saturday night party. I heard from people who attended the Sunday night party say that this night was the grande finale of parties. The performers, the people, the energy was intense and memorable. I had a great time and I totally look forward to attending many more FF parties as well as the nexy Anniversary Party.
Spanks & Kisses to Glenn & Donna....see you soon!
DOMINA EROTICA @ http://WWW.DOMINAEROTICA.COM
First and Foremost I would love to say Thank you to Glenn and his staff for putting this AMAZING party together. It took a lot of hard work and effort, and it paid off extremely well in the end.
Now, I am a frequent shopper at Fetish Factory for the past 2 years and I have never attended to any of their parties. If I tried, something would come up, and I didn't like the thought of attending alone. But this year I got sick and tired of procrastinating, and decided to go. I am an African American and as majority of society would put it " I am not a normal black girl". Friends found it odd but still accepted it, in the end I attended to the 12 year Memorial Weekend. I DO NOT REGRET ANYTHING. IT WAS THE BEST.
The atmosphere of the club was the best I have ever experience. Everybody at the party was friendly, nice and easy to talk to. Although I played headstrong and attended the parties along, when I got there it did not matter. Thanks to Alter Ego and Myspace, new friends were made, and our first gathering was fun, so really and truly in the end I was not alone. At the parties you run into creative, and invigorating personalities.
The special performances that took place was also a plus, from fashion shows, to chain performances, there was something always happening everywhere. The photographers at the parties are also wonderful... as well known as they are, believe it or not they are very down to earth and sweet. Lets not only stop there, but also our Special guests/ Major fetish models, performers and etc are the same. Easy to approach, amazing personalities and FRIENDLY.
If it is one major party you want to, attend Fetish Factory's 3 night Anniversary parties! Everybody from everywhere is there, as big as it is, it will be forever remember as one of your greatest experience. With no pressure at all. Hope to see YOU at our parties!
I took the day off from the Factory, rented a car from my friend's place, and headed up towards Lakeland. Without knowing exactly where I was going, and in the wake of a million people evacuating the east coast because of Hurricane Jeanne, I rolled into a half-dozen closed gas stations along the desolate redneck road through the center of Florida. Finally finding a tiny bit of gas, I braved a long line of cars at the pump and finished my journey to Lakeland where I met up with an old friend.
Checked into a hotel downtown and got into my latex. Thankfully, I remembered to go out for gas before getting into my gettup this time! Spent the madatory hour or so getting everything ready and trying to look perfect for the party. Headed out to Tampa (it was actually less than 30 min) and walked into the coolest Fetish Party that I think I've ever attended (and I am no newbie).
Glenn happened to be up at the door and he showed me around this massive and beautifully decorated venue. The place had three warehouse-sized rooms and seemed to just go on forever. Later, I discovered a back-bar and a whole outdoor porch. I had no idea. The venue was massive and already starting to get crowded with beautiful people. Everywhere you went, people were setting up elaborate S&M and bondage scenes. The energy was in the air. By midnight, the place was packed, but because of its immense size, it was still comfortable.
The music was energizing and the lighting was elaborate. People couldn't seem to agree on a cetral dancefloor, so everyone just sort of flocked out to the middle of the club and started shaking it down. Plus the people there were so pretty. Well, not all of them, but enough of them to keep me distracted and running around everywhere all night long. I was drooling most of the time. You get used to seeing the same people again and again at fetish parties but Tampa was a whole new scene. Fresh faces make for an exciting night!
There was so much going on, it was almost impossible to see every show and meet every sexy person. The performers were incredible, especially Julie Simone and her bondage performance. Rubberella looked incredible. The performers came right out into the crowd and mingled after their shows. It was great to be face to face with Emily Marilyn and Rubberella. Everyone was really friendly and the party had a fantastic vibe to it.
I wished the party could have gone on all night but it was only open til 3. I was just getting started by the time they ushered everyone out to the streets. For weeks after, I found myself bragging about how much fun I had to all the people back home who didn't go, and also found myself secretly wishing that the party had never ended.
I met my friends outside the venue to head back to my hotel in Lakeland for deep relaxation and cold beer.
The next day I hooked up a killer Waffle House meal and then made the insane blitz drive right down the east coast and into the oncoming storm. I decided to take it head-on so that I wouldn't get stuck. Loaded up on red bull and filled the tank to the brim. 100 mph down the free Turnpike, fearless into the oncoming face of death! Not a moment to waste.
It was an incredible experience. Zero visibility and not a cop in sight. Everyone was heading away and it seemed I was the only maniac heading straight into it. There was no turning back and no slowing down because the weather was only going to get worse. I landed back in Ft. Lauderdale with an empty gas tank in about three hours and buckled down for the storm.
It was an amazing party and an exciting roadtrip vacation. It was so much fun and just what I needed. I really hope that Alter Ego goes on the road again because Tampa was fantastic! I can't wait to get on the road again for another great Tampa party.