the life and musings of a kinky slut


I mentioned recently listening to one of my FetFest audio recordings. This reminded me; I have not written anything on my blog about this inaugural event yet. So, in the coming month, I will recount some of the highlights of my time that weekend.

However, for this entry, I want to get something out of the way. There was one incident that was not fun or sexy. It was, well, just wrong.

I was getting ready for the slave auction held Saturday night. As per usual for any event I’ve attended, I was in a hurry. I showered, changed, and was in the process of leaving out.

Though I spent the majority of my time in Rope Village, my bed was in TNG Village. The cabin was empty, save for myself.

As I got ready, a guy walked in. I could tell he was drunk, but thought nothing of it. It was an event, and I felt anyone could choose to spend their time as they wished. As I prepared to go, he asked what I was getting ready for. I casually said I was going to the slave auction to be sold.

“Really? Well then let me get a look at the goods.” He reached over, put his hand down my shirt, and groped my breast. I grabbed him by the wrist and pulled his hand out, while saying, “No. I did not give you consent.” I was stern and forceful, but I didn’t yell. He could tell I was upset; he immediately began apologizing. I told him to just go, just leave. He walked out of the cabin.

I walked into the bathroom and took one last look at myself. I didn’t know whether to scream or to cry, so I didn’t do either. I grabbed my Hello Kitty bag and walked out of the cabin towards the Pavilion.

I can’t really remember what the guy looked like. I never knew his name. When I recounted the story to one friend, he told me I should have slapped the guy. Another asked me if I reported him. It was as if they were both speaking another language.

One, I don’t hit in anger or malice. I don’t let violence enter me in that manner, ever.

Two, report him? I didn’t know his name and he just was a stupid drunk. He stopped when I told him to and apologized. Yes, I felt violated and shitty, but in the moment I just wanted him gone. I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted to feel better. Report him? Fuck him!

So, yeah. That happened. It was shitty. 

But, thankfully, I soon felt better. I found people to talk to and cuddle with. Save for an awkward moment with an awkward man, I had a good time at the auction. And my night got better from there.

It was, and is, so shocking for me because it happened at an event.  I always felt safe at events, sheltered and loved at events.  I was with my people, my family, loving and caring and nurturing.  I always felt looked after and cared for.  And then I got accosted by an asshole.
So I guess, in a long round about way, this is just another person saying consent counts. Consent counts. 


Categorised as: Emotional | FF

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