A sheep in a dog's collar at Eroticon

Standing in the pet supplies aisle of Target, I became conscious of a teenage boy staring at me as I held up a spiked dog collar to my neck. \nYes, I was going to wear it."What would my father think?" ran through my head. \nDavid Nosko, a fellow Indiana Daily Student reporter, and I dressed in fetish garb Saturday night as we imbedded ourselves as guests at Axis' Eroticon event. Eroticon is a festival celebrating the Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, and Sadomasochist community. \nIt sounded like a fun, kinky-good time. I thought of it as a "journalistic experiment" or a Halloween party a couple weeks early. \nI zipped myself into a strapless leather dress, slid on my fishnet tights and high heel leather boots, cuffed my neck in canine jewels and slathered my lips with the glossiest red lipstick I could find. I was amused by my transformation and actually couldn't stop staring at my reflection in the mirror. \nWho would have thought this 4-foot-10-inch lady could look so "tough"? \n"Rule No. 1," I demanded of Nosko, "if anyone tries to hit on me or touch me, you have to do something about it. I'm little. Protect me."\nIt wasn't difficult for me to fall into the submissive role. By BDSM definition, because a dominant controls every action of the submissive, I was entitled to set all boundaries and rules of our "relationship" before the role-playing began. \n"I know, I know," Nosko assured. "We're a team." \nBut as soon as we stepped out of the vehicle and strolled from the downtown square to Axis, men were whistling, mumbling indecipherable things in other languages and laughing. Much of it was sleazy and offensive. \nNosko "let them have it" by ignoring the plethora of crude remarks. \nWere the men judging me or Nosko? I hoped they were looking at Nosko. \nWe were greeted at the door, not by a bouncer, but a petite, zaftig woman with a bountiful bosom. Her bounty over-flowed and was adorned with nothing but white and yellow paint, like eggs sunny-side up. Nosko, aka the bounty hunter, had a smile, also sunny-side up. \nSuddenly, I felt overdressed, and in a way, that comforted me. I was no longer nervous. I felt like the daunting eyes from men on Walnut Street wouldn't threaten me inside what Front of House Manager Rick deemed a "safe place." "My job is to make sure people don't get out of control," he said, while donning a white lab coat with a "Sex Instructor" patch on the pocket, "but we generally have very few problems. I mean, people may be wearing g-strings, but no intimate contact is allowed." \n"It's all about respect," he added. \nCharlie horses were cramping up the arches of my booted feet, when a woman -- like a voice from heaven -- said, "Would you like a foot rub?" \n"Uh," I said inarticulately. "Hm." \nWith a nudge from Nosko, I peeled my boots away from the fishnets. The woman used a refreshing mint mist to knead my muscles. \n"You have such cute, tiny feet," Renee, a foot masseuse, complimented. \nWhen Nosko inquired why Renee enjoyed rubbing feet, she said, "Well, I have a service fetish. Plus, hot chicks come and put their feet in my lap." \nIt was another compliment, but neither sleazy nor offensive. \n"The thing about foot massages is no one will turn one down," she said. "They may not like your food if you cook them a meal, but they won't complain about a massage." \nThe apparatuses were a slanted cross, a pole, a saddle horse and a kneeling bench. \nSubmissives with their bodies clenched in leather bodices, bustiers and bodysuits strapped in while the dominatrices worked on them with switches, paddles and scourges. \nMistress Phaedra flailed her instruments to the music like a kid at a rave with glow sticks. Goddess Carol whispered nothings into the ears of her client. Mistress Sonya rubbed the shoulders of her personal male slave while she waited for her next submissive. \nI questioned Head Mistress Moth about her lifestyle. She explained she was once a president of her sorority but ended up choosing a life "outside the mainstream." \nMistress Moth has several slaves -- some of them sexual partners, some girlfriends, some strictly servants, some a combination of several roles. \n"There's no reason to join a subculture, then start living by a bunch of rules," she said. \nAfter a whipping, Dee, a 28-year-old in a high ponytail, commented on the sensation. \n"For me, it's a spiritual thing," she said. \nDee explained that she used to have an eating disorder. She struggled with perceptions of her own body, but taking up sadomasochism helped her cope, she said. \n"I like (being spanked) because it forces me to stay inside my own body," she said. "Before, I used to always want to escape it, but this is a celebratory thing." \nUntil this moment, it never occurred to me that sadomasochism -- something that one person could perceive as mentally and physically abusive -- could improve another person's body image. \nLooking around the room, I saw that the Eroticon guests came in all ages and sizes, and no one seemed self-conscious. Perhaps the most attractive quality of such an event is it's willingness to accept people as they are. \nNosko and I hung up our press passes and stepped out of the warm club onto the sidewalk. \nI crossed my arms in front of my chest and tucked my chin. I wasn't just trying to conserve body heat; I was trying to cover my bare skin. \nA man stood in front of me and wolf-whistled. As the man grabbed my elbow, he said, "Do you want to date?"\nI ignored the man and continued walking. When I felt we were out of the man's earshot, I turned to Nosko. \n"What happened to rule No. 1?" I asked.