The Bonobo Way at DomCon LA in 2018
‘Twas a DomCon of DomCons, a jewel in the thorny crown of kink, the 15th anniversary of a beloved BDSM institution that brings together some of the world’s greatest mistresses and kinksters, from Orange County to Indonesia, for one wild whirlwind Spring weekend in the merry Masturbation Month of May, at the LAX Hilton Hotel.
And what a wonder-filled weekend it was for The Dr. Susan Block Show on-the-road. As everyone close to us knows, we hardly ever go anywhere (why leave the serene yet stimulating Garden of Bonoboville except to pick up what Amazon won’t deliver?), but DomCon is worth braving LAX traffic for.
It’s partly because of what DomCon gives us—great people and a good time—and partly because of what DomCon enables us to give: The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure.
And what a pleasure and a privilege it was to give, in the midst of these terrible, toxic, Trumpocalyptic times, the Good (not fake!) News of our kissing cousins, the bonobos, the FemDoms of the Wild.
Naturally, the FemDoms of DomCon responded with spanking hot passion and sapiosexual panache to our message of bonobo female empowerment, male well-being and peace through pleasure… with a little bit of pain.
After all, it is the perfect paradigm for what they do, either for a living, in the Lifestyle or both.
So, all in all, ups and downs (and things did get a little topsy turvy, as I will describe further down), we had a splendid four-day weekend mixing and mashing with fab Femdoms, old friends, new lovers and precious allies in the bonobo RƎVO˩ution.
The Met Gala of BDSM
DomCon couture is the height of kinky fabulousness.
Not only did we look sexy, we felt sexy, our latex-clad butts rubbing sensuously against like-minded latex-clad butts, hoka-hoka style, for FemDom sisterhood pleasure and power.
Hoka-hoka lubricates life in Bonoboville, and it appears to do so at DomCom as well.
More lasting and meaningful than fashion are the relationships, the joys of real-life connections with cherished old comrades and exciting new play partners, as well as the shared sadness for those who could not be with us, due to illness or death, at LA’s annual Convocation of Kinksters.
In these times of higher and deeper levels of cyber connectivity (for better and for worse), it is more vital and life-affirming than ever for kindred humans—especially “bonobo sapiens” like us—to get together in the flesh, blood and latex, to chat, share ideas, lend support, sip tea, tipple dirty martinis and spank the crap out of each other.
That is, the Doms spank the subs (adults only, of course), as well as collar them, nipple-clamp them, put them “in chastity,” strap them to crosses and/or parade them around like puppies on leashes.
Whether you’re an animal, vegetable or supreme divinity, protocol is all–and consent is king, queen, bishop and pawn–at DomCon.
With these basic “rules” consistently communicated, via signs, print-outs, gentle indoctrinations, stern warnings and sharp, smacking discipline, DomCon 2018 was more fun than a barrel of happy human animals.
I spent that Thursday morning packing up books, boots, bananas and roses, getting my wild tresses tamed by the talented Mark Brown and stuffing my 34Bs into a two-cups-up cleavage-enhancing Demask blood-red latex push-up bra (leaving the punishing corset for later).
PHOTO 1: PHOENIX DAWN. PHOTOS 2-5: SELFIES
After burbling a quick hello and an even quicker good-bye to our semi-surprise houseguests, off we whizzed to the two adjoining LAX Hilton “Honors” hotel rooms which would be our Bonoboville headquarters for DomCon 2018.
“We” being myself, my beloved Capt’n Max, our trusty technical director Abe Bonobo, prop mistress Ana Quintana and my beautiful and capable, though slightly crippled—having had a little too much fun on her birthday a few nights before (the kind of “fun” that requires 11 stitches in your left foot)—assistant, Dr. Susan Block Show associate producer, therapist and porn star, Phoenix Dawn.
Once checked in, we were greeted by an average view of an architecturally uninspired West LA skyline, planes pissing jet fuel pollutants as they soared to and from one of the world’s busiest airports.
The best part of the view was the “Stoner” billboard right outside both of our windows, which couldn’t help but make me feel that, despite the reactionary backlash of the Trumpocalypse and the passing of SESTA/FOSTA, some aspects of American politics are still making “progress.”
But time was ticking away, so rather than spark a doobie, Phoenix and I elevatored down to obtain our credentials, then strolled through the Marketplace where we chatted with Sybian owner Bunny Lambert, whose father invented the marvelous machine that has brought Bonoboville so many hundreds of orgasms—and that doesn’t count the hundreds of thousands of voyeur-gasms experienced by those watching the lucky cowgirls (and a few cowboys) ride the vibrating bronco on DrSuzy.Tv.
Then I picked up a slinky little pearl sheen silver latex dress from The Latex Store. Congenial co-owner Rosemary helped me shimmy my wayward torso into the skintight halter frock. With no baby powder—and no lube—it was a tough shimmy, sort of like trying to hoka hoka with a rubber tree.
But once I got it on it felt so good I decided to keep it on… at least until I had get dressier for the evening. If you like sexy, simple, well-made latex dresses, the Latex Store is your one-stop shop.
Wiggling into that little silver number was no feat compared to armoring myself like a gladiator of lust in my elaborate Demask ensemble for DomCon Opening Night.
To begin, I donned my first pair of latex panties featuring a zipper up the middle that almost gave me a bikini wax. Then I took a deep breath (which I held all night), and snapped on the latex skirt, tight around the waist, flared down almost to the floor with a slit up the middle to reveal, if the wearer chose to open the skirt like a theatrical curtain, the latex panties.
Then the BDSM icing on the latex cake: a shiny black and red corset that buckled in the front and laced up the back. Phoenix tightened my laces to just before the point of cracking my lower ribs.
PHOTOS: BRIAN T
Protocol is all at DomCon!
Latex is a lot of trouble to take care of and get into (not to mention out of); but it looks so sexy and otherworldly, it’s worth it—at least on a once-in-a-while basis.
When we arrived at Sanctuary, the line was longer than an anaconda. But I “know people,” you could say, and that delightful DomCon “protocol” picked me up and carried me in with the debonair, smartly tuxedo’ed Max Candy.
With the additional assistance of behind-the-scenes Sanctuary bigwig Garry Spain, everybody else from Bonoboville got in right after me.
Garry also miraculously procured front row seats for us right next to Sir Pent (2017 SUZY award winner for “Best Male Flogger”), now helping to build the first Sanctuary franchise in the Inland Empire.
“If you build it, they will cum!” (with apologies to Kevin Costner)
Before the formal program, we took a waltz around the Red Carpet, hosted, as always, by the Glamazon Queen of DomCon, Goddess Phoenix. To keep from getting confused, I tried calling our Phoenix “Little Phoenix,” which wasn’t easy because she’s almost 6 foot in high heels. Goddess Phoenix, winner of 2016 and 2017 SUZY awards for “Most Dazzling Domme” and “Best Female Flogger,” was as dazzling as ever in a black and silver gown that showed off her assets.
I felt pretty red-carpet worthy myself in my raging red and black, demonic Demask get-up.
Well, maybe most appropriate at a DomCon red-carpet, though with a well-placed Catholic cross or two, I would have fit right in at the Met, maybe as Zendaya/Joan of Arc’s Mother Confessor/Torturer.
When I say “torture,” I mean of consensual adults only, of course. I feel the need to clarify this since the Queen of Nonconsensual Torture, “Bloody Gina” Haspel, who supervised P.O.W. abuse at Abu Ghraib and beyond, is now America’s first female CIA director. Which just goes to show that not all women are “good” women… or even the good kind of “nasty women.”
Haspel (whose all-American tortures have included beating innocent pregnant women) is the opposite of the bonoboesque and strictly consensual FemDoms of DomCon, though they might use some of the same techniques. Yes, waterboarding can be consensual, though not when it’s done by a government agent, even if she resembles a kindly kindergarten teacher.
But back to the good Dommes of DomCon, such as two of our favorite DrSuzy.Tv guests, Madame Margherite (“Best Animal Play Monarch” SUZY Award winner) and Mistress Porcelain Midnight (“Most Creative Domme” and “Best Bonobo Way Book-Spanking” SUZY award winner).
Both Mistress Porcelain and Madame Margherite happen to have quickly risen in the ranks to the DomCon Board of Directors, and both looked stunning on Opening Night. Talk about FemDom power!
If DomCon were a Church, Mistress Cyan would be the High Priestess presiding over the Opening Ceremonies bestowing blessings, benedictions and awards.
One high point of the proceedings was when Chynna Doll, aka Jay Toriko (Best Auto Fellatio” SUZY winner) won the auction bidding for a giant basket of kinky goodies with erotic art and items from most of the DomCon vendors, donating $4 grand to Mistress Cyan’s blindness treatment fund.
PHOTOS: ABE BONOBO
Back “home” at the hotel, we celebrated being at our fourth DomCon, which was getting off to a rollicking start.
Maybe it was the red-carpet or the red Demask panties, the Stoner billboard or just the usual “getaway” effect, but the Captain and I sailed the seven seas of orgasm so well into the wee hours, it’s a good thing I wasn’t scheduled to give a Friday talk.
Splosh ‘n’ Art Speakeasy Journal
Around noonish Friday, I woke up to news that the Blacklickorish dress that I’d planned on wearing that day was still en route from Oregon.
Well, the best-laid plans may not get you laid the way you planned.
So, I powdered up my butt, tummy and titties for a (somewhat) easier shimmy into The Latex Store pearl sheen silver, this time with silver accents.
Putting on latex is definitely a work-out, and not for the faint of fashion. Honestly, Phoenix had to help me squeeze into this one too. However, once we got it on, I felt as comfortable as a hard, happy dick in a custom-fitted condom.
Just off the elevator, we ran into Madame M again, all dressed up, or I should say, dressed down for Shabbat, looking luminous with virtually no make-up, her hair covered with a big, silky, copper snakeskin patterned scarf I gave her for her “Animal Play Birthday.”
This time I gave her a copy of our brand new, hot-off-the-presses Speakeasy Journal, executive-published by Max, designed by Clemmy Cockatoo, with a cover photo by Jux Lii and put together with love by everyone in Bonoboville. It also features Madame Margherite in her first appearance on DrSuzy.Tv. When she heard the theme would be “Splosh ‘n’ Art,” she got right into it, training her pet Monkey to throw “poo” that was really chocolate pudding at everyone, including herself.
Is it odd that a FemDom observes the Jewish Sabbath? Not when you realize that there are a wide variety of spiritual/sexual combos in the kink world—from Wiccan to Islam.
Consider the lovely, seductive, yet “impenetrable” Goddess Virgin, featured on our California Jesus show, “virgin” winner of the 2017 SUZY award for “Hottest Findom,” who gave me a chaste but deliciously meaningful kiss on the cheek in the reception area before fading back into her international life of mystery.
We also rubbed up against the beyond-boobalicious Chelsea Charms, our beloved former manager Zhang (now an international pro-Domme), Professor Oni, Orpheus Black, Goddess Lilith, Bratty Wolfie and Chynna Doll as a pussy/maid.
And let us not forget 2016 “Best Submissive” SUZY award winner Jacquie Blu and her brand new boobs, which she eagerly unveiled right by the elevators before we’d even asked (though we were just about to).
Glamazon Birthday Cadillac
We then streamed into the event of the day, Glamazon Goddess Phoenix’s birthday party in Mistress Porcelain’s large, balloon-festooned suite.
PHOTOS: ABE BONOBO
Appropriately enough, Goddess Phoenix was dressed as Wonder Woman, but instead of booty shorts, she wore a long blue, star-studded gown. Such an Amazonian Queen, with a cake to match. I had a strong urge to splosh the cake, but that would be beyond protocol, so I gave Goddess Phoenix a copy of our Splosh ‘n’ Art Speakeasy Journal instead, plus a free display ad in every issue for (at least) a year.
In these times of SESTA/FOSTA clamping down on erotic expression all over the Internet, Net Neutrality or no Net Neutrality, print is making a comeback, especially if it’s a special kind of “print” like the Speakeasy Journal, the theme of our next issue being “SPANKING (for Adults Only).” All in all, it was a pretty good gift, and the Goddess was pleased indeed.
But it was nothing compared to the absolutely fabulous token of birthday benevolence that was waiting for the Goddess out in the Hilton driveway, sporting a big shiny red ribbon across its hood.
Yes indeed, Goddess Phoenix’s devoted and beloved slave John gave her a brand new ebony Caddy.
Who needs a knight on a white horse when you’re Wonder Woman with a black Cadillac?
Good Morning DomCon!
Thanks to a cocktail of melatonin, orgasms and champagne, we fell asleep early, so I could rise at the ridiculous hour of 7 am, in order to get washed, coiffed, organized and ready for my “FemDoms of the Wild” talk at High Noon.
Yes, it takes me five hours for a show or presentation, and this is why I prefer doing stuff like this at night.
But this was DomCon, so here we were getting up with the chickens (chicks, cocks and cucks, that is) at the Hilton.
Suddenly, I realized it was 10:30 am, and that Blacklikorish dress still hadn’t arrived. What to do? I had to wear something fabulous for the talk, the focal point of our “Bonobo Way at DomCon LA” weekend, but needing to be as mobile as possible, I couldn’t do it in the confining Demask corset constricting my diaphram and big open skirt flapping around my thighs. So I found myself committing the grave DomCon sin of wearing the same dress two days in a row (actually, three, if you count Thursday when I tried it on) and shimmy-shimmy-hoka-hoka myself back into the Latex Store pearl sheen silver special.
Whatta dress: as sturdy as it is purdy!
This time, I accessorized it with a snow leopard bra (to release my inner wildcat), faux leather spike-heeled boots to kick my FemDom fierceness into gear. For a smooth kinky look and feeling, I went commando.
The Bonobo Way at DomCon LA 2018: Take 3
This being my third presentation of the Bonobo Way at DomCon LA, I wasn’t nervous.
In fact, I decided to make things a bit more challenging for myself and more interesting for anyone who had been to the first two by mixing it up a bit.
That ‘is, I opened up the format to include some friendly, talented bonobo sapiens (human bonobo lovers)–Phoenix, champion erotic wrestler Mistress Kara, her partner of 14 years, Jack Friday, and Elena Rayn, dressed to dance (or trance) like a punk Burning Man pixie ballerina–“acting out” various key parts of the talk, in my signature Commedia Erotica fashion, making it a more textured, multi-media presentation.
Not being nervous doesn’t translate to not being neurotic. Ten minutes before the talk, the MIA Blacklickorish dress finally appeared, just in time for me to wonder what to do with it, since people were filing into the room, and I had no time to put it on. Meanwhile, we couldn’t find the damn latex lube, so poor Phoenix ran around the whole hotel (on her stitched-up foot) searching for lubricant like a mom in the desert desperately seeking water for her thirsty children.
Then, just as I resigned myself to my pearl sheen not being very sheeny, Phoenix found the lube! Within seconds, she and Elena lubed me up good (on the outside only, of course; this was the Hilton, not Bonoboville), massaging me into the optimal state to deliver the Good News of The Bonobo Way: FemDoms of the Wild.
So I began with the basics: “What do bonobos know that we don’t know?”
To answer that, I listed five things we know about bonobos…
- Bonobos are very close to us, more than 98% genetically similar to humans.
- Bonobos have a lot of sex, both quality and quantity, in a Bonobo Sutra of positions, including face-to-face. As Pan paniscus (bonobos’ Latin name), they are pansexual.
- Females rule Bonoboville. And not just the young and fertile females, but the older, experienced ones as well. In fact, you could say (and I do): MILFs rule Bonoboville.
- Bonobo males are happier, more youthful and relaxed, in general, than other Great Apes (this has something to do with all the sex).
- Bonobos make “peace through pleasure.” Unlike all the other Great Apes, including humans (especially humans), bonobos have never been seen killing each other. This also has something to do with all the sex, as well as bonobo female empowerment and male well-being.
Unbelievable as it all might sound, this is not fake news.
It was certainly big news to most people in that room who didn’t know bonobos from bananas, and a sexual revelation for FemDoms and fans.
For the rest of us bonobo sapiens who already took this delicious red pill, this year’s Commedia Erotica dramatizations kept things exciting, physically demonstrating some of the points of the talk.
These included bonobo play, doggy-style and face-to-face Tantric-style bonobo sex, bonobo fighting, FemDom body worship, masturbation (with an anatomically correct banana), penis-fencing (also with bananas), cuddling, tickling, conflict resolution,”hoka hoka” and the “Trust Game.”
Human kudos and bonobo hoots to all of our Commedia Erotica Players for releasing their inner bonobos and doing a terrific job—with no rehearsal!
With our film footage of bonobos at the San Diego zoo and in the wild playing on a big screen behind us, we transformed that sterile Hilton LAX Conference Room A1 into a teeming, panexual, bonobo sapien jungle of love.
Animal play is a great release from human stress and folly, and bonobo culture is especially timely in 2018.
Many fear women taking power, but bonobos show us that female empowerment and male well-being are not at odds in nature, and together, they create sustainable peace through pleasure.
How do they do this, and can we humans learn to make like bonobos (not baboons)?
Can we release our ‘inner bonobos’ … before it’s too late?
At this especially tempestuous point in human history, it’s worth a try.
Times are also tempestuous for the highly endangered wild bonobos, now in critical danger of extinction, thanks to human degradation of their natural habitat in the Congolese Rainforest, especially bushmeat hunting. Bonobo conservation is integral to the Bonobo Way. That’s why the most important step of the 12 Steps to Releasing Your Inner Bonobo is Step #12: “Save the Bonobos, Save the World.”
If we lose the bonobos, then we lose a key to peace through pleasure that we can never find again. If we help save the bonobos, they will reciprocate and help us save ourselves.
Giving me great energy from her front row seat was the dazzling Glamazon Queen of DomCon Herself, Goddess Phoenix, along with her two slaves, John (who gave her the Caddy) and Greg. We know Greg as a photographer, where he is relatively free, but the Goddess kept him bound and on his knees throughout most of the presentation, apparently disciplining him for something or oother, though he was obviously enjoying every minute of it.
Freedom might be the greatest aphrodisiac, but restraint (with consent) is a close second… at least, at DomCon.
Every time the rest of the audience applauded, Goddess Phoenix would smack Greg’s forehead as he grinned sheepishly.
Further to the left in the front row was none other than Stormy Daniels, contemporary American hero.
Actually, it was Rhiannon Aarons in a blond wig and big eyelashes, doing a remarkably spot-on portrayal of Stormy Daniels, aka Stephanie Clifford, along with her rather large pet ferret, aka tRUMP, played to the ferrety hilt by T.M.I.. Or, as she introduced herself and her furry pet Presidunce (using his characteristic long red tie as his leash): “Hi, I’m Stormy Daniels, and this is my weasel.”
Weasel, ferret or rabid Trumpanzee, the Bonobo Way is one way out of the Trumpocalypse, another subject of the lecture (maybe the only way, other than starting over after massive social and environmental destruction).
We also talked about Bonobo BDSM, #MeToo (bonobo-style), the SESTA/FOSTA challenge, bisexuality/pansexuality revelations, oxytocin levels and “incel” therapy in a natural femocracy, topping it all off with a Bonobo Way book-spanking.
Besides the lubing, this was my favorite part. Adult consensual impact play and other forms of BDSM play have tremendous healing power for bonobos as well as humans. Consider how the brief Forbes Magazine-spanking that Stormy Daniels gave a certain exceptionally narcissistic future presidential weasel made him stop bragging about himself long enough to have an almost normal conversation.
“Normal” for a weasel, that is.
Our Bonobo Way book-spanking actually turned into a three-ring Circus of Impact Play.
Goddess Phoenix took center stage, of course, flogging Caddy Slave John with her dazzling electric floggers.
Before anyone could say, “Please Mistress, may I have another,” the spanking turned to applause, the “show” ended, and the book-signings began.
The audience was full of even more intriguing humans, some of whom came up to chat with me afterwards, buy books, get spanked or hoka-hoka.
Everyone was excited to “go bonobos” in their own FemDom way.
I only wish we had more time for everything and everyone.
Judging the DomCon Pet Awards
Just as we finished signing the last books and packing up the equipment, we realized something was missing: the Blacklickorish latex dress! It had finally appeared like a mirage just as the talk was starting, only to disappear just as the talk was ending.
Well, Detective Phoenix was “On the Case” of the Missing Dress. Meantime, we were late for the DomCon Pet Awards where I was honored to be a judge, so we galloped over like bonobos crossed with race horses.
Miraculously, I didn’t fall on my latex ass as I trotted across the stage into my judge’s seat, just as the first contestant was scampering around the obstacle course.Whee!
Next to me were my esteemed fellow judges: Mistress Porcelain, Subbie Cupcake and Mistress Hannah Hunt.
Before us were the contestants: human animals of all kinds and costumes, wolves, kittens, foxes, several dogs, “flea bags” and a “Zombie Pup.”
Plus, that Weasel, tRUMP, of course.
Presiding over this barking, squealing, meowing menagerie was the marvelous Madame Margherite, living up to her SUZY award for “Best Animal Play Monarch.”
I usually pride myself on not being “judgmental,” but this was a different kind of judging.
Still it was challenging. All the pets and handlers did a great job, which was why we gave them all awards! I don’t remember all their names, but Mistress Mia Darque won “Best Handler” and her doggie Hellhound won “Best Trick” for not just doing dog tricks, but also taxes (in “real life,” lil Hellhound is an accountant).
We awarded “Best Behaved” or “Plays Well with Others” or something like that to Devan de Sade, Sadie Synn’s precious Black Lab with pink pigtails.
Charlotte the Kitten was super cute, but not very well behaved (what pussy is?), so we gave her “Best Costume.”
tRUMP the ferret was also not very well-behaved, and much more obnoxious about it. I personally felt inclined to warn him “Don’t you grab that pussy!” when sweet Charlotte crawled by.
Then that Weasel wiggled under the Judges’ Table and tried to grab MY pussy (one reason I wore the stilettos)!
But Stormy Rhiannon kept it real, and the ferret costume (created by Madame M) was first rate, so they won for “Most Original.”
“Best in Show” went to Alice in Bondageland and the Zombie Pup, a kind of Canine Christ who died and then miraculously came back to life, something so many of us are hoping will happen to our democracy very soon.
Speaking of which, the climax came during the judges’ huddle when all the pets got free recess and wound up ganging up on tRUMP the Weasel, making him cry uncle.
Of course, these dogs, being rather bonobo, humped tRUMP. What a zoo!
It got intense—and surreally political. A great release for all, and the perfect follow-up to the Bonobo Way.
The only sad part was that Mistress Ellen, who has reigned over so many DomCon Pet and Pony Shows, couldn’t be with us this year.
Nevertheless, her spirit was cracking the whip, and at the end of the show, we all posed around signs that said, “We Love Mistress Ellen.”
Yes indeed, brothers and sisters, human animals of all kinds, sizes, fetishes, politics and species, there was a lot of love in that room.
Remember the missing Blacklickorish dress? That’s okay, I forgot about it too. But Detective Phoenix Dawn tracked it down and managed to get it out of the vault or chastity or wherever it was, despite being made to jump through more hoops than the Pet Awards contestants.
Having given it up for dead, and now with it returned to me, I called it Zombie Blacklickorish. It was the wrong style and longer than ordered, but after all that silver, black and red, the aqua color beckoned to me like a tropical FemDom oasis, especially in front of the Stoner billboard window with a vape between my lips.
So I shimmied out of the Latex Store and into the Blacklickorish; it was a little big, which isn’t such a bad thing when you’re slithering from one to another in the middle of a long day that started at 7 am and won’t end until about 3 am, accessorizing it with a hot pink bra, boots and the perfect aqua and black chapeau.
Then off we went to the Mistress Photo to commune with the Dommes of DomCon 2018 in all their grandest glory and finest finery.
Once again, latex ruled the scene.
But leave it to Alice in Bondageland to mix things up with a crew dressed in white longjohns like the dastardly droogs in A Clockwork Orange, serving delicious white Russians from their nonviolent but kinky “Milk Bar.”
The cheerfully sadomasochistic Droogs of Bondageland also set up a boot-cleaning franchise near the Milk Bar. At least, they cleaned my boots when I stepped in their milk.
As it is every year, the Mistress Photo was a big “Class of 2018” photo of most of the Dommes at DomCon.
Yes, a few key Dommes weren’t there, but it was still an impressive presentation, especially when we collectively gave “the finger” to the “system,” tRUMP, SESTA/FOSTA, deadbeat subs or whoever’s looking at us.
Maybe because it was the 15th anniversary, it felt a little more grand this year, as a row of slaves dropped to their knees, bowing to the Dommes ceremoniously.
All hail FemDom power, pleasure, pain and protocol!
Amid all the shiny latex and milky liquor-laced festivities, there was some tension and a rising concern for the future of sex workers and freedom of speech in America, what with the busting of Backpage and the rising SESTA/FOSTA disaster. Doing our best to do our part, Capt’n Max and I have inserted a “backpage” in our new Speakeasy Journal. Throughout DomCon, we gave away free classified advertising to all the Dommes we know, admire, love and support. Seriously, these ladies (and some choice gents) are some of the best, most honest, loving, ecosexual, beautiful humans on Earth.
But what will the future bring? Will we lose all the freedoms we’ve fought for over the past decades, thanks to the Weasel in the White House and those baboons in Congress? Or will we put our culture on the path of the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure?
Who knows? We only know what side we’re on (#GoBonobos for Team Bonobo!), the “side” of bonobos, love and life on Earth.
Dinner and Sanctuary
Suddenly, I was starved. In order to fit into that Demask skirt, or maybe because there hadn’t been time, I hadn’t eaten a meal since DomCon began, surviving on bananas and the occasional olive, shrimp or strawberry. Now that I was in my relatively loose Blacklickorish sheath, dinner felt like a fantastic idea.
Great FemDom minds think alike, and Goddess Phoenix had the very same idea, so before I could say “I’ll have what she’s having,” our two crews merged together into one happy FemDom family dinner.
I got even luckier when three very special SUZY award winners (missing from the Mistress Photo) sat at the table right next to us: the extraordinary Mistress Tara Indiana, founder/director of Dominatrixes Against Donald Trump (whom we’ve known for over a decade), Mistress/Artist Sheree Rose (whom we’ve known for over two decades) and luminous punk artist Goddess Soma Snakeoil, whose hair matched my eyebrows and who had, in 2015, seduced me into attending my very first DomCon. Memories!
Next stop: Sanctuary Saturday night party. With the Captain getting a little seasick from too much DomCon, I kept the party going with the rest of the crew—though there was no doubt, we were exhausted.
We found a few seats on the sidelines to watch the stage show featuring Goddess Phoenix and Mistress Porcelain dominating some guy (I assume it’s a guy, but who knows?) in a Star Wars “Stormtrooper” outfit.
As I watched these two great Glamazons capture, tie up and thrash the Stormtrooper, I imagined them as FemDoms of the Wild in Space, battling the Evils of Unbridled Technology and, somehow against all odds, winning and saving life on Earth, including the bonobos.
PHOTOS: ABE BONOBO
Next onstage was the lovely Miss Joy Luck presenting an artistic performance piece with a ballet dancer/submissive whose “strings” she pulled like a kinky marionette.
Then she caned her balleerina as she stretched out her legs in a Chinese split!
In between acts, I ventured into Sanctuary’s tiny, crowded backstage where I encountered the legendary Masuimi Max, fetish striptease performance artist and DomCon 2018 headliner, just before her climactic stage appearance.
One of the prettiest people on Earth, Masuimi is even more gorgeous in person than onstage, perhaps in part because her fierce, witty and warm personality really shines, and if you’re right in front of her, you just bask in the glow.
Sunday Tea & Whiplr in Demask
Figuring DomCon Sunday would be rather leisurely compared to my over-scheduled Saturday, I decided to give the punishingly fabulous Demask outfit an encore… with heels instead of boots and a different hat.
First stop: Demask and the Domme Collective booth where we thanked Louva and Mistress Isabel Sinclaire for the sensational outfit.
Then we took the scenic route through the DomCon Marketplace, giving away Speakeasy Journals and blood red roses to the needy.
Ms. Dawn wore a nice tight Gasmaskgirl blue latex skirt that enhanced her smoking hotness, especially while smoking.
SMOKIN’ PHOENIX PHOTOS:ABE BONOBO
Next stop: The Mistress Tea where we re-hooked up with Goddess Soma, looking smashing in a hand-painted Latex Catfish jumpsuit of the same aqua color I’d worn the day before.
The fetish fashion gods were smiling upon Goddess Phoenix–releasing Her Inner Marilyn Monroe in red and white polka dot latex–and me.
We looked more coordinated than we had all weekend.
It was lovely to connect with and ogle all these ladies in varying interpretations of “Mistress Tea” attire, each delightful and commanding in her own way.
Meanwhile, the sissies and subbies served us Earl Grey and chamomile with petits fours and cake as we chatted about flogging, tRUMP, incels and #MeToo, checking our raffle tickets to see if we were the lucky winner of a big bag of dildos.
As the day wound down and the Demask corset tightened, I started to fantasize about taking it all off and melting away my tensions in the little hotel jacuzzi.
But just the fantasy of peeling off the latex and immersing my consensually tortured flesh in hot waves was enough to keep me going through the next round of parties which was actually just one party that seemed to go round and round in the Whiplr lounge, another great DomCon tradition.
Maybe it was one round too many, for me and other members of the Bonoboville crew, as our communication structure began to break down, just as our nervous systems started to fray around the edges, the latex digging into the back of my neck, DomCon overload setting in, even though we were still having an awesome time.
At least, I was.
Though, afternoon spun into evening, and I never did get to take that jacuzzi. I optimistically peeled off all the latex and put on a red bikini and Hello Kitty robe, only to discover that Bonoboville On-the-Road, as well as (perhaps) my own marriage, might short-circuit, if I so much as dipped a pedicured toe into that hot water.
So no jacuzzi for Suzy.
At least, that’s how priorities lined up for me, even though I was pumped up on adrenalin, DomCon-versation, Sudafed, drunken texts and misunderstandings. Time to dial it all down and focus on my home community (Bonoboville) and my marriage (when I say the wedding “band” is a form of bondage, I ain’t kidding).
Love, like latex, needs constant special care and lubricants… if you want to make it last.
This can be a lot of work, but also, like latex, the truly fabulous results make it more than worth the trouble.
See you next DomCon!
© May 19, 2018. Susan Block, Ph.D., a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy,” is a world renowned LA sex therapist, author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure and horny housewife, occasionally seen on HBO and other channels. For speaking engagements, call 310-568-0066.
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