I don’t think anyone here will be shocked to hear that I am a huge fan of costumes, being that I’m the kind of human who would spend a reasonable chunk of my recent life building a site like this site. I love working on a costume build for months before a convention or Halloween, then ultimately showing up at the big event with tiny nicks and burns and remnants of adhesive or some other maker-like substance all over my fingertips. I love the sense of restriction that a really intensive costume can introduce, making it totally vanilla-space-acceptable for Soren to act as my ‘handler,’ helping me to navigate through difficult spaces, feeding me drinks of water that I literally can’t hold for myself. I love everything about cosplay, but mostly the public nature of it.
Don’t misunderstand me here, I could not sew a simple article of clothing to save my life. What I do is more like building. Foam suits of armor? Yes, please. PVC and Worbla weaponry? Yep. Arduino-powered demon wings that light up in intricate, purple sequence that I had to solder together one. at. a. time? Did it once and would do again.
Funnily enough, for a long time I indulged my love of costuming and intricate builds by working on costumes for my kids. I built an amazing Bioshock “Big Daddy’ costume for my then-8-year-old son, who could barely carry the thing around. After literally weeks of laboring with spray insulation, fiberglass resin, spray paint and a massive paper-mache drill that never did quite work right, I hauled that thing around to multiple parties, and through one short, but fraught trick-or-treating run before breathing a deep sigh of relief as we hung the costume into the rafters of the garage, where it still lives to this day. Afterwards, I said wistfully, one day I will have the body I want, so that I can cosplay too. Soren, cutting right to the quick as he does, said “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. If you want to cosplay, life is too short not to cosplay.”
And so I did. That Halloween, we went to our local kink community Halloween party in full costume (mine built by my own singed little hands, Soren’s thoughtfully ordered from Amazon.) I dressed as a demon, in a full corset, with wickedly curved horns, the aforementioned light-up wings, treacherously high heels, press-on twisted claws and black sclera contact lenses. Kink parties are my favorite for costumes. We found a set of plastic, heavy-looking chains and Soren led me around all night – both thematically appropriate, with him as a demon hunter and me as his quarry, and logistically necessary, with me only partially able to see my way around, and as likely to stumble on my heels as not. His favorite quip of the night was “I had to go deep to catch this one.”
I love the feeling of being completely decked out for a theme. I love the way my costume hobbles me, and the feeling that I’m suffering that because it is fun for me and for Soren, the sense of absolute trust that being hobbled won’t be a problem, because Daddy will take care of everything. A highlight of that first night was when it became clear that I could not go to the bathroom by myself, because I couldn’t disengage my panties from my corset with the claws on my nails. Rather than take me into the ladies room, which would have been hot in its own way, Soren devised an even more interesting solution, asking the beautiful (but young and inexperienced) Domme that we’d been chatting with all night to take me to the bathroom.
Another year, I built a ‘Siren’ costume that featured an intricate array of real, broken, seashell pieces all across the bodice. It was only once I got out that I learned that the costume would rake my arms and leave cuts and scratches everywhere. At the end of the night, freezing and not-quite-bleeding, it was a different sense of masochism than the way it feels to endure a session of impact or wear nipple clamps. It was a more passive, ethereal sense of a sort of victory. All night, Soren would ask, “Do you want to take it off? It’s okay if you want to take it off.” Somehow, the fact that I made it, scraped and shivering to the very end of the night, still bedecked in full evil-mermaid finery felt like an accomplishment.
That costume also involved a fun little piece of roleplay, where Soren’s pirate costume (also ordered from Amazon) came with these little glass bottles. We filled them with various colored liquors, and told everyone all night that I was enspelled to his command, but if he didn’t feed me ‘potions’ on a regular basis, I’d revert to my terrifying Siren Queen ways. I’d start out well-behaved and docile, then whenever it felt like time, I’d start acting out, a little at a time until Soren decided it was time to ‘dose me’ again, which I theatrically struggled against. Incorporating a story/game into the costume is always fun at kink parties, because it isn’t always easy to strike up conversation with new people.
Explaining the pretense can be a fun way to start a conversation. When a new Dom acquaintance would suggest, “I don’t know, it seems like she’s getting a little feisty. Would you like me to hold on to her while you give her another potion?” it made for an entertaining way to playfully interact that wasn’t jumping straight into sex (especially at an off-premise party like this particular one, where actual sex isn’t allowed, but a little costume-appropriate struggle scene is A-ok.)
Costumes are an enormous amount of fun, especially if you’re willing to be a little playful with them, and they can be a great way to diffuse a lot of the awkwardness and difficulty that comes with attending kink community events where you don’t know a lot of people. If you’re waiting until you are more skilled at building or sewing, or until your body changes in some arbitrary way, I can’t recommend strongly enough that you take the plunge. Take a chance and live out that fantasy that you’ve always wanted to experience, then come back and tell us all about it!