*Frolicon is held in Atlanta every year. This is a semi fiction account of what happened there...if you ask real nice, maybe I will tell you what happened, what is made up, and the bit of both. It is geeky, and kinky, and as sex positive as you can get. Check them out.*
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After you dry off, you begin to assemble your costume. It starts with a white g-string, followed by two white leather straps that fit around your thighs, loosely supporting a white cloth. The fabric moves as you do, flashing the g-string as you walk. Next a string of glossy pearls goes around your waist, then thick silver wrist and ankle guards. A wide steel band slides up one thigh. He attaches the silver ring collar around your neck.
You both work to put on your "top", a series of straps that encircle your breasts, and fastens at the base of your neck. Another pair of straps, silver buckles shining, attach above and below your breasts, barely covering your nipples. A cloak made out of white fur then covers your back.
Lastly comes the gauzy mask, covering your eyes and nose, but leaving the crimson of your lips blazing below it. You worked hard to make the mask unbroken, but still allowing you to see to walk. It was like seeing through a fine white mist, but, with his help, you were confident you wouldn't break your neck.
He dresses, in contrast to you, in all black, a moving shadow in leather and silk. You wish you could have gotten him crimson instead, but the budget only goes so far. When he is ready, you slip into your white high heels, and nod to him. He looks you over, and smiles.
"You look...mythic."
At that, your nerves melt away. You toss your hair, and stride to the door, with all the confidence the character herself would possess. You hold your head up high, fostering an air of arrogance and danger. He walks quietly in front of you, allowing you to navigate, while appearing to be your major dormo. You pause briefly after stepping off the elevator, basking in the silence and stares, before walking through the throngs of "your people".
Although billed as a geek and kink event, the kink tends to overshadow the geek. There have been others in cosplay, but compared to Dragoncon, and the other purely geek events, they were few and far between. That fact, and the inherent fetish nature of the cosplay draws people to you, begging for a picture, or to pose with you. It also brings many offers to play, which, remaining in character, you simply sniff at, or snarl at, if they are too forceful. You walk the floor, posing and preening for an hour, before you pull him aside.
"My ankles are fucking killing me.."
He glances at his phone, and smiles. "Perfect timing. Follow me."
He leads you to the dungeon. As soon as you are inside, he takes off your shoes, which is a little slice of bliss. He also removes your mask, and you blink to adjust to the darker environment. He points over to a woman seated next to a massage table, a smaller table next to her. A metal case rests on it. You look at him, and walk over. She is pretty, with dark hair and glasses. Almost every inch of her is tattooed. She smiles up at you, and asks you to remove your cloak. You look at him again, and he nods. You look back at her, raising an eyebrow. She simply opens the case, revealing rows of needles, a sharps box to dispose of them in, and a bottle of skin cleaner. You gasp, both in shock, and in excitement. You had always been curious about needle play, but also a little afraid.
He comes up behind you, hands around your waist. "It is up to you love", he whispers in your ear, "I will be right here. And I trust her."
That makes you relax, and you allow him to slip the cloak from your shoulders. You lie face down on the table, and tense when you hear her stand up. She massages your back, slowly relaxing you.
"Stay as loose as you can..and this may be a little cold."
You flinch slightly as she washes your back down with the skin cleaner, and she giggles. You relax while it dries, enjoying the aches abating from your ankles, until you hear her snap on a pair of latex gloves. She comes over to you, and makes eye contact.
"I need you to tell me you are OK with this. I am VERY experienced, but its your body. And you can, of course, revoke consent at any time."
You smile, reassured simply by the fact she takes it so seriously. "Poke away."
You close your eyes and wait. Soon enough, she pinches your skin, and you feel the sharp bite of steel, sliding into, then out of, than back into your skin. You bite your lip at the sting and wait. She has paused, making sure you can handle it, then moves on about an inch lower than the last. Pinch, sting, breathe. After the fourth or fifth needle, the flood of endorphins has begun, and the stings have less pain, and only add to the pleasure. You feel like you are floating, and give a little moan each time she adds a needle.
You loose all track of time, and it takes you a moment to grasp that she is speaking to you again. You blink at her in a near sleep state, and she laughs.
"All done dear. Take a look."
She hold a mirror so you can see your back, and you marvel at the perfect spiderweb of white silk ribbons that connect to each needle. He smiles.
"I wanted to keep on theme."
You get up, and walk around, trying to clear your head. You still feel somewhat buzzed, with only a slight sting in your back. She tells you to step outside the dungeon, so you can get some pictures, and than come back for her to un-thread you. You smile, replacing your mask and heels. Your ankles instantly begin to ache, and you ruefully laugh that high heels you could wear on the street without a second glance are far more torturous than a needle corset.
You pose for your lover, stretching your arms above your head, and half glace to his camera. When he finishes, you are inundated by people wanting to take pictures with your back. Despite the crowd, you can't stop grinning. You get as many shots in as you can, before begging off.
He smirks at you. "You are going to be internet famous."
