So back in October I posted this short list of 10 random things I wanted to accomplish by years end. While by no means an exhaustive list, this was more a rough sketch for me (and a teaser for you) of things to look forward to. I jotted this list down in like the 5 minutes you wait while the coffee in my French press ferments. Interestingly enough this quick, top of my mind list, gathered quite a few comments.

Now on this, the closing day of the year, while I wait for my last batch of rope of 04 to come to a boil, I thought we should look back at the list and see how I did.

1) Relocate the shop to a new and larger space where we can also throw parties.
I have the lease for my new shop in my hands, just need to review it with one of my friends who is much wiser than I about this sort of thing. The new shop should allow me to triple if not quadruple my production capability while reducing the need for me to stand in the rain by 100%. Oh and the shop has not one but two industrial machine hoists capable of lifting some 6 tons over 3o ft in the air… oh the things I am going to do with that!
2) Model for a fetish shoot
Thanks to Dancer for making this happen, she is great like that. It is oddly liberating to cast your nude self out onto the world. With nothing to hide you find yourself with no reason to not speak your truth. Why hide what you believe, you have ceased to hide everything else.
3) Loose that last %^&king 10 pounds!
Actually, make that 20 and counting. I need to post about this because it has been really amazing to experience. When I posted this list I had just weighed in at 230 and thought that if I could hit 225 I’d be in great shape. This morning I weighed in at 210. Not bad for a guy that at this time last year was 255. Of course the down side is that ALL my clothes now look like they belong to my father. I have to part with my beloved green kilt because there is no way it will sit on my hips any longer.
4) Submit artwork for 2005 SEAF
Thanks to your feedback I submitted 3 images. The Mistress, Cedar Reflected, and My Favorite Bottom. I’ll let you know how that goes.
5) Perfect inverted rope suspension and perform it with Tambo
Ah, my dearest Tambo. I just love that girl to pieces. You saw the end results here.
6) Finish work on my hentai inspired fucking machine
This one is still in the design phase. Too many rope related projects on my plate right now. However my new neighbors at the shop space are blacksmiths and are very interested in doing some collaborative work.
7) Begin stocking five more retail stores with rope
To be honest, I was too busy selling rope to individuals to really persue this in earnest. This will be a huge goal for the compay in ’05. In fact we will need to add at least 10 stores to our list. This is one goal that you all can help me out with. If you know of a high end sex boutique in your town that might want to carry the best bondage rope on earth, please contact me. Now I am not talking about your chain, crap stores that carry cheap shit. No we are talking about places on par with Toys in Babeland, Mr. S, and Grand Opening.
8) Get another tattoo
Actually in light of my recent needle play expernice this one has morphed a bit. Rather than ink, I’m going to adorn my body next with a ritual scar. Seems like I have enough of them from my misadventures already, why not purposely add one? We have the design, the artist, and the physical location all set. Stay tuned for that.
9) Perfect my curry recipe
Sigh I will confess that these days my cooking has really taken a back burner to everything else. Dinner for me these days is a salad and steamed veggies.
10) Begin work on a samurai suit of armor
We have slowly begun progress on this one. I’m having lunch with my designer next week to review the final sketches and hammer out the cost details. This is going to be very cool.

So there you have it. Sure, there are lots of other things that I have done and am very proud of that are not on this list… as well as a few things that I am not so proud of. Keep in mind that this blog, while as open and honest as possible, is but a small time slice into a much larger and complex world. On several occasions I have sat here at my laptop after some interesting or moving event and wondered how in the hell am I going to do this thing justice? Or where to start, or if this is a story that I should even tell? I guess it is a bit like when your favorite novel becomes a major motion picture. There are so many details and nuances from the original that just cannot be translated to the screen.

Now if you will pardon me, I must pull this last batch of black out and get it into the dry racks, change, meet Tambo for lunch, deliver some rope, make sushi for Dancer and Sir’s party tonight, assemble my rigging gear and pop Kitten’s suspension cherry all before this year comes to an end.

Hit me With Your Best Shot
Missy, who has been a very naughty girl and needs a spanking, writes to ask:

I have never tried anything regarding bondage with my husband. The only kinky thing my husband does to me is spank me, and lately I ask him to get rougher with me and he complies. However, my husband says it is difficult to spank me while going at it doggie style. Is there an easier way to spank me in this position? And, how can I subtly introduce more kink into the bedroom? Our sex life has become somewhat routine and I'd love to spark it up. Can you offer me any tips?

Thank you in advance,

If I am reading your e-mail correctly it sounds like the hubby is really not all that into the act of spanking you just for the sake of spanking you. Rather than just bending you over his knee and turning your ass bright read while you kick and squeal, he is willing to give you some good swats as long as his penis is being properly attended to. I must pause for a moment and tip my hat to him. He is at least willing to indulge you and try. That is more than a lot of partners are willing to do. So good for him, be sure to praise him for that.

I must agree that the “get up lil’ doggie” method of spanking is really not ideal for either party. While fun, His reach is really limited, as is the power of his strikes, and he really can’t hit you in the “sweet spot”, you know closer to the pink bits, but rather he is hitting more high and outside. Also I bet he is suffering from SDS syndrome too? You know, “Honey, please stop hitting the SAME DAMN SPOT!” Again, that limited reach and lack of targets are really an issue here, what you need to do is expose more of your “target area” to him (again, we are talking about your pink parts here) while giving his cock lots, and lots of attention.

Some options to think about.
1) You stay on your hands and knees and suck him off while he reaches around and spanks you. This might also be a good opportunity to introduce something like a riding crop or other “swatty” impact toy. That way he has all manner of targets to strike from a number of positions. I.e. him standing in front of you, or off to the side, or even propped up on pillows while you lay on his legs.

2) 69. Have him lay on his back while you straddle on top of him. In this position not only is his penis sufficiently distracted, but also he can enjoy a nibble on your pink bits as well. Also, this will allow him to use both hands to strike you. Let him experiment with that method. Both hands at once, back and forth in rapid succession, or perhaps the bongo solo from the surf classic “Wipe Out”?

3) Now this one will require a bit more flexibility and balance on your part. Have him sit in a chair with his legs open. You then lean over one knee and balance on one of your outside hand, forming a tripod with your legs. With your free hand, stroke his cock or if you are flexible, suck it. Again this one will take some stamina and flexibility on your part to work.


The big idea here is that you need to keep his cock nice and happy. He has yet to make the jump in his brain where the act of hurting you brings him pleasure so until then he needs to be given pleasure WHILE hurting you. If all goes well and you communicate your desire and need for this, as well as thank him for doing this to you… well who knows where it will go from there. I’m betting that, based on your energetic response to his actions, he will eventually put two and two together. The key here is small steps and LOTS of praise and reassurance.

Besides, most guys will do just about anything you ask in exchange for an energetic, wet, sloppy blow job with a porn star finish.

Drop Kick Me Jesus, Through The Goalpost of Life

Dancer and I talk about Jesus and his role in our relationship on video over on her blog.

Looking forward to the rest of the week, look forward to topics like the joys of over the knee spankings, face bondage, and maybe a picture of my ass. Today however I must finish a ton more 4mm for Max's upcoming bondage class.

Used CD Shopping

Believe it or not, but Tambo and I still go on “vanilla” dates. You know, dinner and a movie and maybe coffee afterwards. Not all our adventures outside the house end up with us donning full suits of armor and having our knees licked by midgets.

Recently we found ourselves suffering from the devastating effects of a truly amazing meal. Dull eyed and smiling we staggered down the sidewalk in search of our next destination... The used record store. Having both worked in a record store in college; these places hold a certain charm for us. The racks and racks of music just waiting to be discovered. The “I may only make 9 bucks an hour, but I’m cooler than you” clerks behind the counter, all combine to make for a rather nostalgic date destination. That and we were seriously jonseing for some new tunes. So we dug through the bins in search of lost classics that we once had on vinyl or for that elusive cd to fill in our collections.

Ever notice how most used CD stores only stock the really crappy cd’s by an artist? I mean they never have a copy of, say, AC-DC’s Back in Black, but they have 150 copies of the Heavy Metal Bluegrass Christmas album.

Anyways, here are a few choice treats we did manage to find.

The Punjab MCs, Beware
I finally found some bhangra! For those of you have yet to discover this unique form of world music, picture this. Take equal parts hip-hop, traditional Middle Eastern belly dance music, and European techno mix with exotic spices and toss in the tandori oven and you have this really fun and unique Indian dance music.

Visqueen, Sunset on Dateland
I have no idea how this CD got into the used section, seeing as how it was released like a month ago, but yeah me. A power trio from Seattle who have been getting some much deserved national attention. If you enjoyed power pop bands like The FastBacks, you are in for a treat. Speaking of Seattle bands, if anyone knows where I can find MP3 copies of Severna Park’s one and only EP I would be in your debt forever. I have searched hi and low for this.

The Incredible Moses Leroy, The Incredible Moses Leroy
Um, hmm, err, how to describe this. Imagine a 10 song cd where every tune sounds like it as made by a different band… and every track is fantastic. I guess you would have to file this under “space pop”? But that would only be touching the surface. That and how can you not fall in love with a love song that has lyrics like
And you are, warm and fuzzy
and you are my Nazi Prom Queen
And you are truly lovely
Let’s paint the town red, like Carrie

What did Tambo pick out you ask? Oh how about a copy of The Partridge Family’s Greatest Hits.
Me: You have got to be fucking kidding.
Tambo: What? No way, these guys are awesome!
Me: No, no and hell no.
Tambo: Oh yeah, now I’m so going to buy it… and play it while we have sex!

And they call *me* the sadistic one?!

If you ever pose nude for me be warned, I'll always make it a point to take at least one photo of you flipping me the bird. So far I have dozens of shots like this. I think one day I'll publish them all in a book. I'll call it, "The Book of the Bird".

Doesn't everyone want a book full of beautiful women going *Fuck You* on their coffee table?

The Christmas Episode:

So I suppose I should write some kind of holiday related posting. You know, the venerable Christmas episode where I go all “bah humbug” about the holiday, only to discover the season’s true meaning when I come to the aid of a group of racially diverse, TV friendly, orphans who break out into song and dance numbers right before the commercial breaks….

Yeah right.

No, my Christmas Eve was spent photographing the sweet Kitten…naked…in a jail cell.

Now that is a fun way to spend a holiday. Of course there was that amazing dinner at Cascadia Tambo and I had and it’s subsequent food coma…. Or the fact that we are going to spend damn near all day in bed today. It is not that I do not like the holiday; rather I just don’t feel the need to get all caught up in it. If you want the big tree and the inflatable Santa on your roof you go have a great time. Me? I’m going to pile the quilts on my bed and snuggle up to my dearest Tambo.

Now if I could just teach the dog how to make coffee I’d be set.

There is one thing however that I do wonder. How many folks gave the gift of rope this morning? Here is one letter I got from a very happy Santa.

Merry Christmas!

Master opened His rope today. Did I tell you I wrapped it in the box with the nosehook? I wanted to make sure He knew they went together. Anyway, He was pretty excited when He realized it was the 4mm, and then He saw the nosehook and put two and two together (and got mental pictures of a severely bound and humiliated (happy) slavegirl) and I could tell He was really pleased.

Anyway, I wanted to thank you for all you do, and for the rope, and for deciding to carry the smaller size, and heck, for quitting corporate America and going into the rope business to begin with. I know you probably hear this all the time, but your rope changed my world - *rocked* my world - and I'm really thankful to you for that.

And this would be the place where the youngest orphan, who is handicapped in some heart tugging (yet TV friendly) way, puts the star on top of the tree, with the help of Monk who has now seen the true meaning of Christmas (thanks to their non-denominational songs and in-offensive dance numbers), and say “God bless us, everyone”

Happy Whatever The Hell You Make It

So why did I post a photo of this?
a) It reminds me of someone I am fond of.
b) I have a photo shoot today and have been trolling for ideas
c) I'm a big ol' nerd.
d) All of the above

Cuz Ya Gotta Have Faith...

The inquisitive C wrote and asked,

“…one of your recent blogs made me curious, because it referenced a Christian past. Were you still going to church when you encountered BDSM?

Cause I was/am. I "discovered" my kinkyness about 2 yearsago when a friend revealed that he liked to be tied up, and I was like "oh shit - I'd like that too". And since then I've sort of been trying to figure out how to make my faith and my sexuality work together.

So I was just wondering whether or not faith was at all an issue at any point in your
kinky journey.”

Well bless my baby Jesus butt plug! What a great question!

I suppose I should start off by saying that yes, I did spend the first half of my life entrenched in radical fundamentalist Christianity. I have since spent the last half trying to make amends for those narrow minded years and the massive Karmic debt incurred. As for being kinky? While I had an inkling that I was not quite like my other fellow church goers, it would be years before I would realize that I was kinky.

Now when it comes to organized religion, these days I identify myself as an atheist. A happy atheist who derives a great deal of personal peace from knowing that this life is, in fact, all we have so you better make the most of it.

So the question stands, can you have a personal religious faith AND be kinky? My first reaction would be a loud, “Oh hell no!” but we have already determined that I am just a wee bit biased on matters of religion. So I sought out the advice of one much wiser, The Mom. For those of you who have been reading this blog for a while, you know all about my amazing mother in law. For the new kids, here is the cliff notes version: The Mom spent 30 years as the devoted wife of a high ranking Mormon bishop, discovered she was kinky, got excommunicated, got divorced, found a wonderful master, lives a 24/7 slave, and bought me my first book on rope bondage.

Suffice to say, she has oceans of wisdom when it comes to this sort of thing.

While we may disagree on the need for a personal faith, we did however agree on this, it’s possible to be kinky and have a personal faith but not so easy to have personal faith and be kinky.

What do I mean?

Well let’s say you were in a public play space like the WetSpot some Saturday night and go, "Gee I’d love to stay and watch this blood play scene, but I’m supposed to be baking the cookies for my prayer meeting tomorrow morning" Ok, you might get some odd looks, but that is about it. Maybe it is a function of the lifestyle but most kinky folks are really not going to care all that much.

However, lean over to the person in the pew next to you and say “I got spanked so hard last night! My ass still has hand prints!" I’m guessing you are going to have the missionaries at your door before you get home and a lot of explaining to do at the next ladies prayer meeting.

So what am I saying here? Are kinky people somehow better you’re your average churchgoers? Maybe... just a bit. Honestly, to be kinky you have to be much more open and non-judgmental than most. When the rest of the world may think the thing that gets you off is dangerous/immoral/strange one tends to not pass judgment on our own kind. Also, most kinky organizations and events encourage all genders, orientations and sexual identities. So at any given time the person next to you could be gay, trangendered, or even a republican. I know, it is truly shocking, but there are Republican Kinky people in Seattle. I know some… scary.

Now this is not to say that kinksters are all these great enlightened souls who never are divided or disagree. Quite the contrary, but they are more likely to not pass judgment on you than your church going folks might. As I see it, you like to talk to God? Good for you. If that works for you, you go do it. I like to wear studded leather corsets. Not your cup of tea? No skin off my nose.

As for how the man (or woman, or super intelligent shade of blue) upstairs feels about you liking to tie up and hurt your partner? The Mom summed it up better than I ever could.
“God gave us these bodies and this life. He wants us to be happy, if this makes you happy and it is consensual then aren’t you pleasing god?”

In the end I guess it is something that you have to make peace with in your own way.

I will, however, close this with this one small warning. Once you cross the threshold and discover your own kink, those things that work for you sexually, there is no going back. Like Pandora, you have opened the box and let loose something. Despite what they might tell you, there is no putting that back in the box and forgetting that it was ever there. You can try, but it will only bring you guilt and pain... and a huge therapy bill someday.

To deny your sexuality is to deny your humanity and any god that demands of you is not a god worthy of your faith.

Just a quickie, got some last minute shopping and a lunch date today…

We all know the wisdom of the great Strong Bad. Not a Monday goes by when I do not check to see if he has posted a new e-mail. All hail Trogdor, the burninator.

Of course for those of you who like a bit more bite to your web cartoon, there is our lord and master, Foamy. My secret dream is that one day someone will walk up to me, hand me a card and say “Foamy” then walk away.

Then, then there is this new cartoon I just found that takes it to a whole other place. Sadly it was created as a 10 episode project so what you see is what you get, and oh god do you see stuff. I give you, for your time wasting pleasure, The Retarded Animal Babies.

The porn shoot

You would not believe the amount of gear needed to shoot porn. In the old days, when it was still shot on celluloid, porn sets resembled your small budget film sets. With the advent of the VCR and the eventual digital media revolution the amount of gear needed to make a decent fuck flick has gone down, but there is still plenty of it…especially when it is your job to carry it from the grip truck to the set.

That was my first paying film job, lighting and camera tech for an amateur porno.

I really was not sure what to think when I took the job. All I knew was that they liked the fact that I already had studio lighting expertise and worked with nudes before. An added bonus was my interest in eventually producing my own independent film. You see, most non studio pornographers are all just really frustrated film school graduates who thought they would “get into porn and make a quick buck so they can fund what they really want to make”. Me? I was here for the paycheck and boobies. Yeah I planned on learning all I could, but let’s face it the boobies were a nice incentive.

Van now loaded down with gear, we await our intrepid director. He’s late… again. Seems the talent, that’s what you call them, Never “people we are about to watch fuck” but “talent” were having a bit of a crisis that morning finding a sitter. Perhaps I should back up a bit, our film company specialized in what they liked to call “Real Couples” by that they meant anyone willing to fuck on film who could bring their own partner(s) and provide a location. It was a good angle, in a market flooded with pretty girls willing to open their legs for the camera; porn needs a shtick in order to sell. Theirs was the “honesty” of the sex.

The “talent” lived about an hour and a half outside of the city, so we all piled into cars and set out for our destination. A rural community once fueled by timber jobs, now a strange mix of huge housing developments built for folks who don’t care about the commute and trailer parks. As luck would have it, our destination was the latter. An old single wide, the kind where they did not even bother to make it look like a house, rather there it sat an oblong silver whale along the side of the road.

Always the professionals, we set about unloading the gear in the tiny living room as the director spoke with the talent. She was pretty, in that sort of well worn pretty that you see at the end of the bar after a long night of drinking. Her bleach blonde hair revealed dark black roots. “Well at least she has a decent body,” quipped my co-worker, “you should have been here for the last shoot we did. I’d never seen a chick with back hair before”

Thank heaven for small favors I guess.

While we waited for the woman’s partner to return we got to work lighting the bedroom. The room was a thing of wonder, taking up over half the tiny dwelling it was complete with a giant wood framed waterbed. The kind your uncle had, you know that uncle who always wore the one piece leisure suits and that gold chain with the funky little horn pendant? A California, we could have a god dammed orgy on it complete with midgets, King Size Waterbed. Complete with etched glass mirrors in the headboard.

Now I will admit that I always enjoyed this part of the job. Lighting a scene for porn is a tricky task. You want to have as many angles to shoot from as possible while not having any lighting gear in the shot. Also, most humans really don’t look all that good under 1K hot lights, doubly so for folks from the damp pacific northwest. Using a portable lighting rig and some creativity, we mange to hide enough lights in the ceiling to allow us almost 360 degree view of the action. Granted to actually shot some of those angles I’ll probably need to place a knee in the middle of the talent’s ass, but we could hit it if we needed.

We filtered the lights with soft amber gels so that their pale skin would seem a bit warmer. While we did our final camera tests, the rest of the talent showed up. Or shall I say we hear the roar of what could only be… quick peak out the window to make sure… yes, yes it is. A mid seventies Pontiac Firebird, complete with rust spotted bird decal on the hood. Who should step out, but a tall, no make that scrawny man with yes a mullet. Oh my god, he is even wearing a Pabst Beer hat.

Then it finally hit me. I’m standing in a single wide trailer house in the middle of nowhere about to shove a DV camera between the sweating legs of a couple of strangers. Strangers that, quite frankly I don’t think I would want to know in real life, let alone meet them AFTER watching them exchange body fluids.

Where are the earnest, yet hot lesbians and the dominatrix?

“Ok, let’s heat those lights up and get the talent on the set! Monk I want you on the close-up cam. Get in there really tight and get me some hot shots. Here use this flashlight if you need to get more light down there.”

And so the moral of this story?

Porn is a lot like sausage. If you like to consume it, you really should never see how it is actually made.

Baby I'm Star

This is your last minute reminder folks. In stock orders placed by noon PST today will ship out in time for X-mas to US addresses. We still have some rope left in stock.

Now remember that tv show I did a while back with Mistress Matisse? They finally have the archived show on-line. You can watch it here. The video file is huge, like 180mb so be patient. Our segments make up like over half the show, the last half, so wait for it.

Scenes in Search of a Victim

One of my mentors taught me this fun little exercise were you come up with a hot idea for something kinky to do and then see who might be best suited for said event.

Here is a recent sample of one that has been marinating in my brain recently

I’d like to take some horny and eager playmate to a swing club on a busy night. Not just any night, but a night guaranteed to have lots and LOTS of single, unattached males all looking to get some action. I’m thinking that it would be fun to pick 4 or 5 of the best boys available, you know very straight vanilla boys, and put them in a private room with said playmate. Once they are all in, naked and waiting. I want to bring her in on a leash, have her kneel in front of them and then, as I close and lock the door, tell them this.

“See this girl?” taking a fist full of her hair,”Her body, all her body, is about to be yours. Fuck every hole she has as much as you like as often as you like, she is wants all you have and then some. There is however one small thing you must do first. You must watch me beat her.

If you cannot watch my hurt her, then by all means leave. But know this, once you leave you cannot return. Those that make it to the end will be rewarded with her body…Oh and I am the ONLY one who can and will hit her. You so much as slap her ass and you are gone…”

Then proceed to thrash that girl for all she is worth while watching the boys look on.

Hmm, now there is the big multi day New Years party coming up at the swing club so we have the stage set, now all I need to do is figure out who the starlet of this scene is going to be. Any volunteers?

Come Out And Play

There is an interesting linguistic distinction when talking to swingers versus kinky when talking about “playing” with someone.

Now if I were a swinger and said to my partner, “So (insert name of fucktoy du jour here) would like to go play sometime. I’m thinking next Saturday night. Cool?”
The rough translation here would be, “This woman and I are going to get together, remove all our clothes and do our best to fuck the other one till we collapse from dehydration”

That same statement, when said about a kinkster would roughly translate to, “I’m going to take this woman, hang her from the rafters and then proceed to gently caress her with a wiffle ball bat.”

Notice the semantic difference?

For the kinksters, there was no mention of sex. I know this might sound odd, lord knows it did to me the first time I heard it, but “playing” with someone in the kink sense does not automatically imply that you will, in fact, fuck them. I know several, very astounding tops who will thrash you, suspend you, pierce you, and otherwise fuck your world up in the most astounding ways… and they won’t fuck you. There are any number of reasons for why this is. The most common seem to be that a) when you top someone and take them to another place, to another level of consciousness, sex clouds and confuses that space. As well as adds a layer of weirdness if the person you are playing with is NOT a lover. And B) it is impossible to maintain the air of dominance at the moment of orgasm.

Me? Oh honey, I suspend your ass and I at least want a “thank you blowjob.”

Ok maybe I exaggerate a wee bit, but I know that my sexual drive is closely linked to my SM side. For the longest time I just could not wrap my head around this concept. I figured why go to all the work if you are not going to get your dick wet when you are done? Perhaps it is has to do with my swinger background. There it really is all about the proverbial “insert tab A into slot B, repeat as necessary.” I gave my first spanking as part of foreplay and as I came to grips with my emerging sadism, sex was always the end goal. Nothing says “sorry about that hand print on your ass” like a screaming orgasm.

As my skills as a top expand and I spend more and more time doing public scenes and what I call “Show Suspension” work I’m starting to come to grips with the idea that I don’t HAVE to fuck this girl as she dangles in rope next to me. Slowly I’m starting to wrap my head around it. Sure it would be nice, but I draw pleasure from just the act of taking her somewhere, to breathe deep her peril and fear, like a sort of sex vampire or a salt monster from Star Trek, I feed off the little waves of desire she radiates.

Thankfully I have some very good mentors who have helped teach me to hone this skill…

Of course I’m not about to turn down that thank you blowjob. I just make sure that this little semantic twist does not get me in trouble. These days I make sure to say, “Want to play and fuck sometime?”

So by now you all have come to expect my Friday post to read something like, “got in at 5 am from a fabulous date with Dancer. Too bleary eyed to see and unable to use my pinkies….”

Well, yeah last night was no exception. You would think that by now, 7 odd months into the relationship, that I would be used to this. Get into a sort of routine, as it were. Well let’s just say that nothing is “routine” when it comes to Dancer. Of course I should add that we had not one, but two, back to back out till 5 am dates this week.

Oh my god am I tired and happy.

Random stuff bouncing around in my sleep deprived brain.

1) I’m debating on posting some instructional video clips here. Usually I like to leave the rope teaching to the experts like Max, but folks keep asking me about. Nothing too complex, maybe some how to stuff on writs ties or body harnesses.

2) I’m taking a vacation soon. That is right, an actual vacation. Now during this week I thought it would be fun to have some guest postings from my partners, friends (both old and new) as well as a surprise or two.

3) I have gotten some great e-mail from readers this week. I love to be flirted with and some of you are doing a damn fine job. Thank you.

4) The Christmas rush is almost done. Soon very soon I can take a breather… for like a day then I need to finish rope for dear Bridgett

5) We are planning on starting a contest in the New Year where folks can submit their best shots of them using the rope. Winners will get something cool… like custom rope.

6) Dancer and Tambo teamed up on my Christmas present and it is fucking amazing, I can’t tell you about it yet, but it rocks the Kasbah. The best thing about it is that they did it together. I love the way the two of them respect each other and interact. I’m fucking blessed.

Let's Get Drunk and Screw...

Now I don’t really go bar hopping anymore, I find that I have much more fun in places like dungeons, well equipped bedrooms, or on certain couches. However there are those exceptions when you want to go out, see a band, just soak up the nightlife, or are trying to loosen me up in order to get in my pants.
Top 5 drinks I am likely to order if we were to go out to a bar together.

1) Fresh Guinness (‘taint nothing like it, the beer that eats like meal.)
2) Raspberry Stoli Cosmopolitan, (Take me to a gay bar and I’ll flame for you)
3) Single Malt Scotch, something from the highlands (or as I like to call it, God’s way of saying you make too much money)
4) Small Cadillac Margarita on the Rocks, (I swear the little Mexican joint Tambo and I love defines a “Large” as “Was once a fish bowl”)
5) Coffee, (Shouldn’t I be at least a wee bit sober if you want to take advantage of me?)

It also helps is someone else is buying.

BE MY MEAT BILLBOARD

That’s right folks. We finally have the new black t-shirts in stock, just in time for that last minute Christmas gift. These shirts are all 100% pre-shrunk cotton and professionally silk screened by naked Swedish cheerleaders. The long sleeve shirt features our world famous logo and the immortal (or would that be immoral?) motto, “Trust me, I have a merit badge in this” on the back. Suitable for just about any occasion, strut your rope loving stuff in this shirt.



Our most popular shirt, the “Rope Slut” is now offered in a black baby doll and black spaghetti strap. I think it speaks for it’s self, but wear this to a party and I guarantee you will get laid.

All shirts are in stock and ready for shipping so order now.

I know, I know two work related posts in the same week! It is this damn Christmas rush! Buy a shirt so I can pay to get Galahad out of that Tijuana brothel and I’ll get back to talking about the difference between “Fucking” and “Playing” with someone as well as the joys of getting random naked photos in my inbox

The Top Secret Date

After much waiting on your part, now we can tell you about the “Top Secret Date”. Well actually not me, rather the multi talented and ever astounding Dancer,…er I mean Mistress Matisse tells the tale, complete with accompanying video, on her blog.










Still reading? Yes, the cat is out of the bag now. Dancer and Mistress Matisse are one in the same.

LAST MINUTE CHRISTMAS ORDERS!
It is crunch time folks. If you are like me and have waited till the last second to do your holiday shopping have no fear. We have stock on hand ready for immediate shipping. We will be updating this list once a day or more if need be.

In stock orders will ship the next day, including Saturday 12/18. All orders ship USPS express. Right now the postal service is saying 4 days delivery time to anywhere in the US. Orders placed BEFORE noon PST on Monday December 20th should make in time for the holiday.

Again, here is the current rope stock that is on hand, packaged, and ready for immediate shipping.

DEADLINE FOR CHRISTMAS DELIVERY TO US ADDRESSES IS NOON MONDAY 12/20!

“…and I want to thank you, for giving me the best day of my life.”

So I need to say thank you to some folks for yesterday's Cirque Du Noc show.

Thank you to the wetspot for throwing this event. Seattle is very fortunate to have such a great sex positive community and we owe a lot of it to the hard work of this organization and it’s volunteers.

Thanks you to those of you who came out to buy rope. I spoke to one guy who drove almost three hours just so he could talk to me and buy rope. Wow, that is just about the coolest thing in the world.

Thank you to Orion at One Wilde Knight, when I saw Tambo in her new corset I forgot how to breathe for a second.

Thank you to the reader who introduced herself. I’m honored to know that you enjoy reading these words.

Thank you to all the cool vendors, we have been to a lot of events and it can really suck when your neighbors are jerks. This was so not the case yesterday. Hugs to all of you, I hope you all made a killing.

Thank you to Kozmo for making a special trip to the event just to deliver the end results of “The Top Secret Date”. We can now finally tell that story.

Thank you to the lovely stunt bottoms who happily stood there with huge grins while I demonstrated binds on you. You make this job so much fun.

Last but not least, thanks to you dear readers for understanding that the Monk is now very, very tired and wants to spend the rest of the day curled up in bed next to Tambo and watch bad horror movies.

The ever yummy Rynngobragh asks,
“…so how did you start making rope anyways?”

So I suppose I should tell you the story. Now I would like to say that I, in fact come from a long line of rope makers. That the secrets of my trade have been a closely guarded family secret since my great, great, great grandfather got run out of the old country for tying up the mayor’s daughter.

Or maybe I learned this as part of my religious training. You know, there are monks who earn their keep making bread, or raising dogs, in fact in Seattle we have monks who grow and roast the strongest fucking coffee anywhere. Damn, if those guys ever learned to grow pot, we would all be in deep trouble.

But I digress; no I can’t claim any great back story like that. Rather I started out as a photographer. Funny, most of the kinky people I know are photographers in some way. I wonder if most started out kinky and then took up photography as a way to document some of the scenes they had or, like me, started off as a vanilla photographer and found kink? Again, I digress.

So there I was, a nude photographer. (The models were nude, not me.) It was at the end of the dot com bubble, having spent the last decade in tech and being laid off like 3 times in three years as more and more tech companies collapsed, I found myself working as a free lance consultant and hating every minute of it. In order to keep from slitting my wrists in frustration, I dove headlong into more creative endeavors. I shot a movie and toured it across the US and UK at film festivals as well as took a LOT of naked photos. (Again, the models were naked not me. Damn you guys are perverts!) Around this same time I was really starting to embrace my kinky self, coming to grips with the raging sadist that I always knew I was, but afraid to admit to. Fast forward a couple years, I have established myself as an up and coming artistic nude photographer as well as an emerging kinkster.

Now every year I choose a new subject matter to shoot. One year it was all fairies, (the kind with wings, pervert), another year it was all about sex and legos. My current subject was antique photos. I took color shots, stripped them down, sepia toned them and then re-colored elements to re-create the look of turn of the century French erotic postcards. Here is a sample (work safe)

Again, at this same time I was also really committing myself to becoming part of the local kink scene. The swinger thing was fun, but I found myself looking at girls going, “Sure you would like me to fuck you, but can I bend you over my knee and spank you first?” Until now my toy bag consisted of a few weak floggers and some climbing rope. I know. I know, the great Monk once used crappy nylon climbing rope. As well as a copy of the Midori book on bondage. We tried some of it and enjoyed it, but it had yet to really make that connection for me. So I started reading as much as I could, signed up on bondage.com and started taking as many classes at the wetspot as I could. A note to folks thinking about getting into the scene. Kinky people LOVE to take classes. Start attending as many as you can, learn as much as you can and meet as many folks as you can in classes.

So the stage is now set, you have an unhappy artist toiling away at a keyboard and wishing that he could do something creative, fun, and sexy. This same artist is kinky and has the desire to become a good top, no make that a damn good top. He also has a photo shoot coming up and the model has suggested doing a sepia toned shot of rope bondage where just the ropes are colored.

Hmm… now where will I find cool rope that is colored? Why there is a recipe for conditioning hemp in the book by Midori. Cook up a batch, add some dyes and damn that is some really pretty rope. Now I must of course practice my ties before I try and shoot anything, enter the ever supportive Tambo. I think it took about two passes of hemp across her skin and she had an orgasm.

Let’s just say that she was not the only one who discovered their rope kink that night.

So I guess I better take those rope bondage classes being offered at the wetspot? That is where I met Max and eventually Matisse, both of whom have become dear friends and fantastic supporters. At the class someone notices my royal purple rope and offers to buy it from me. In fact we are interrupted, mid scene, at one party by someone looking to buy a coil out of my bag. Hmm maybe we are onto something?

The Wetspot’s annual holiday vendor fair was coming up, so I decided to pay the 50 bucks and share a table to sell. We cook up a few dozen lengths of rope and sell every last one of them. Not only did we sell out, but Toys in Babeland are asking about carrying the rope in their Seattle and NYC stores. A few months later we make an even larger batch of rope and take it to a kink convention in Portland and, you go it, sell out. Setup a webstore and sell out. Make an unbelievable amount of rope, go to Folsom and… yeah you know the drill, sell out.

It was just over a year ago today that “The Twisted Monk” made its retail debut. In that year I have found a job that makes me unbelievably happy, met some of the coolest (and kinkiest) people, gotten to travel to all sorts of events where I get to tie up all sorts of fun people, and found a kink that I really like. Yes, in that year I have worked harder that I ever did before, put in longer hours and spent more time standing in the rain watching a giant kettle of hemp boil than I care to admit to.

Also, Galahad claims that I have single handedly depleted most of North America’s stockpile of mink oil.

You know what really does it for me? It’s when I’m out there, rope in hand talking to folks and someone comes up to me with a smile and says, “I got tied up in your rope last night and it felt so good!” There is no paycheck on earth that can match the way I feel in that moment.

I bet you didn't think yo could do that with a lawn gnome?

Let me see, last night with Dancer was… oh shall we say mind bending? Yes, yes let's say just that. In fact let's now make up a new word for how good my date last night was... hmm how about splorkorific? Or maybe extranastastic. Yeah, that works. Last night was extranastastic. (now go use it in a sentance 3 times today and win a prize) You see, it was my turn to top and oh did I ever pay her back for last time, with interest. I really should go into detail, but I can't due to the fact that it is probably illegal in like 3 or 4 states... as well as all of Scotland.

One of the more, shall we say, unique aspects of a switching relationship is that you always really need to keep on your toes. Rather than fall into a predicatble pattern, you find yourself trying to the ante from the previous event. Not so much out of the spirit of competition, although it can seem like that sometimes, but rather as a way of thanking them for the time before. Topping is damn hard work and you have to respect a partner who really delivers for you. Of course if both parties are type A over achievers, then you can find yourself in the midst of a sort of kinky arms race.

Next week I am so screwed.

So while I try and remember how to walk in a straight line and recover enough of my wits in order to finish prep for tomorrow’s Cirque Du Noc event, I thought I would plug my super talented friend’s art show opening tonight.



FYI if you are in Seattle, you don’t want to miss this. Suzanne makes me look normal.

Pulled another one out of the hat.

Somehow we did it. Somehow we managed to go from zero stock, a mountain of back orders and an upcoming show to all orders filled, decent stock for the show as well as new products. All in less than three weeks. That would be something like 5000 feet of rope in just over 21 days. Now I’d love to take all the credit here and tell you all how by my incredible force of personality and ability to go days with out sleep are the reasons why. No, the real heroes here are my die hard friends and allies.

Specificaly, I really should tell you all how Tambo and Galahad have been working tirelessly to see that we make our deadlines. I should be praising them for their creativity and ingenuity. I really must tell you all how you all owe Galahad thanks for single handedly bringing the new t-shirts in…
But right now I’m far, far too exhausted. All I can do is shake my head and thank the universe for sharing people like this with me… I do not deserve them.

When this is all said and done, I promise to make you both a huge batch of cookies and serve them too you still warm with vanilla ice cream.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookies
1/2 cup butter or margarine -- softened
1/2 cup creamy peanut butter
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4teaspoon salt
1 3/4 cups semisweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350-degrees F.

Combine the
softened butter or margarine and the peanut butter in a large bowl. Beat with an electric mixer on medium speed until the mixture is light and fluffy. Gradually add the granulated sugar and brown sugar. Beat in the eggs and vanilla until well combined; set aside.

In a medium bowl, stir together the flour, baking soda and salt. Add the flour mixture and chocolate pieces to the dough. Stir until the dough is well blended.

Drop the batter by tablespoonfuls onto lightly greased cookie sheets.

Bake for 9 to 12 minutes or until the edges of the cookies are lightly browned or a slight impression remains when the cookies are lightly touched with a fingertip.

Transfer the cookies to a wire rack to cool completely.

Through the Eye of the Needle PT2

The endorphins were now flowing freely after being dangled about in the air while she had her way with my – well, my other dangly bits. Laying me down naked on the table, she sits close to me. I can feel the reassuring warmth of her skin as she presses her hip close to me. Now she prepares the next stage of the evening.

The needle.

Calmly she cleaned my skin and explained just where and how she would place the needle. Just above my left nipple, in the muscle where I like to be bitten.

"Now, I want you to take a deep breath and then slowly breathe out"

Nervously I do as she says and am greeted with a sharp, sudden pain. Eyes open wide as my brain tries to process the experience. A warm sting in my chest, followed by a strange tingle, as if stung by a bee. I want to itch at the spot, but I know better. Her hands now caress around the wound, sending waves of sensation. So far so good. It hurts, but I'm still in control. I
may be gripping the sides of the table with all my might, but I can feel my brain start to loose its grip on what is going on. Responding to the pain,my body reacts by washing my system with endorphins.

She steps back to take a photo. I suddenly feel very naked now.

When the second needle comes I am unable to "intellectualize" the experience any longer. I feel her body straddle my hips as she climbs on top of me and places her hand on my chest. Lost in the moment of pain, I feel myself finally slip away. In all our previous scenes I could maintain some kind of control. Use humor or communication to not let go completely and succumb to "bottom space". No such luck this time, Monk. I'm gone, screaming and weeping for
the first time.

I take that back, I have been here before, but in an entirely different
context.

I'm 14 and still attending church. We are attending a prayer meeting, an evangelist is preaching that night. No, the evangelist is testifying that night, moving the crowd with the word of hellfire and brimstone. I'm transfixed by it, drawn to it. He calls out to the crowd, telling us that god tonight has told him that there are those who he calls to the spread the word. Those touched by the hand of God. He urges us to listen to our heart of hearts and heed that call to step forward. Pulled by a force I cannot describe I step forward, into the isle and make my way to the front of the altar. Trembling with fear I kneel and being to pray. When the hand touches my shoulder I look up to see my father, weeping as he prays with me. In that moment I received "The Calling". Overcome, I let go of my fear and begin to cry as well. Awash in tears we hold each other and give into the experience. Unable to form words we cry and cry till our bodies can no longer form tears. Later, as we dried our eyes, I felt…good. No, really good. I would return to this place again and again during my tenure as a Christian. Addicted to the release and calm that it brought.

She whispers encouragement to me as she rides my erect member. I wail and scream in a mix of pain and joy. She holds my head as I try and focus my eyes on her and tell her that I now understand, that I get it. I know now why we tormented ourselves with guilt every week just so we could seek forgiveness at the altar every Sunday. I understood now why some call it "Sex Magik". I now understood where my lovers truly go when I am delivering pain to thier eager bodies.

Talk about a moment of clarity.

In that moment I felt not the hand of God, but rather the hand of my lover. She set about to pull the needles from my skin as I gasped for air, eager to share what I had just learned as well as kiss her madly. Still unable to do more than gasp simple words, I thanked her over and over. She may have set out that night to deliver a scene, a new experience for her lover but in the end she did something powerful.

New Rope!


After dozens of requests I am proud to offer my fantastic hand conditioned hemp in 4mm! This rope is great for bits bondage (you know dangly, floppy, or otherwise pointy bits), hair bondage, as well as face bondage too. We currently have a limited stock on hand in CRIMSON, BLACK and NATURAL in 15 foot lengths and ready for immediate shipping. All ropes feature the same “bomb proof” end whipping as our larger diameter ropes. Other colors, lengths and ends are available by custom order. Order now and surprise your favorite rope junkie.

I’m giving you, my dear readers, first crack at these ropes. So hurry, quantities are limited.

Oh and while you are at it, check out our new nose hooks! Delightfully evil!

Through the eye of the needle PT1

We drew some stares at the restaurant as we sat waiting for our dinner. Reaching across the small table, we held each other's hands and kissed, all the while waiters made sideways glances at us as they passed. It was a good thing that there was a complete table in between our hungry bodies otherwise we would have been half naked by the time our salads arrived. There is probably a reason why Dancer and I tend to not go out to dinner on during our nights together.

"So", I said, coming up for air, "You mentioned that you had something extra evil planned for tonight?"

You see, Dancer and I have what we like to call a "switching relationship". Unlike your typical Top/Bottom pairing, we enjoy a certain equality where we take turns dishing out sadistic pleasures to the other. This can be informal where we switch back and forth as the evening progresses or more formal where the entire evening’s agenda belongs to one of us. After last weeks adventure (or as I called it at the time, “here let me show you something really cool I learned from Midori!), I'm sure she was eager to return the favor.

"Well, I thought that we could do a couple of things." She said with that sweet menace in her voice that makes my ears perk up and all the blood in my body rush south.
"A couple things you say? As in more than one?" I say, trying to be coy.
"Yes, tonight I want to suspend you, and then pierce you"
"Pierce?!"
If I had a reader board over my forehead at that moment it would have flashed
"DID SHE JUST SAY PIERCING? ME?
"HARD LIMIT! DANGER WILL ROBINSON DANGER!"
"Oh man that is really going to hurt! I wonder what it will feel like?"
"If anyone is going to do this to you, it would have to be Dancer."
"Oh fuck what have I gotten myself into?!"

Aloud I say, "Um. Sure, let's do it."
Dancer just laughs and smiles her sweetest smile. I'm so screwed.

I should probably point out here that up to this point blood, my blood in particular, has been a hard limit. I figure I get punctured enough swinging a sword that I do not need to do so with a lover. Besides, I can't even watch the surgery channel with out squirming. Sure, horror movies are easy. You KNOW they are fake, but when you see someone actually get their skin punctured my brain goes, "Hey, I remember when that happened to me, here let me replay the memory in FULL VIBRANT PAINFUL COLOR!"

Now contrast this with the fact that I trust Dancer more than any secondary partner, ever. When it comes to pushing my limits as a bottom, she is the only woman I trust. If I'm going to bleed tonight, then it will be at her hands.

A bit of a conflict you say? Indeed, but in the end my trust in her and curiosity won out.

Later, after nervously finishing dinner and dashing back to her place we found ourselves half naked in her dungeon. Again. Funny how we always seem to end up there?

Question, if you get suspended in the rope you made does it still qualify as bottoming?

Off to Class

Come out to Max's Fixed Point Bondage Class today at the Wetspot in Seattle. No previous rope experince is needed and nor WetSpot membership.

I'll be there with the new 4mm hemp rope, sweet new t-shirts, and a few surpises too.

The Deadline Approaches

The submission deadline for this years Seattle Erotic Art Festival is fast approaching, as if I did not have enough on my plate already, I need to pick my entries for this year’s event.

A bit of history. The first year of the festival, I submitted 5 images and had 3 accepted for display. This was my first major showing of work and I was very proud to be part of this event. The next year, the show much larger and competition much larger, only one of the 5 were accepted. Granted I took a year or so off from constant photography to shoot a film so the body of work I could draw from was limited, but still it was great to have something on display… and sold at auction for a pretty penny too.

While I have not shot as much as I’d like to have this year, I must say that the subject matter of my work has been quite unique and different. This year the competition for photographers is fierce. I can only submit three images for consideration. The question is what three?

These are the shots I am considering.

And so dear readers I ask for your assistance, if you could pick your three choices what would they be?

Oh dear god what a night… I fear dear readers that I may in fact lack the vocabulary needed to convey the events of my night with Dancer. I beg your patience while I attempt to put it all down. In the mean time, how about some random strange musical entertainment?

Leave it to those whacky Canadians to come up with this.
I so wish I had come up with this idea.

Now pardon me while I tend to my rope marks, compile my thoughts and try to stop smiling so much.

Atomic Fucking
I once read that somewhere, there existed the oldest known text of erotica, an ancient Japanese sex manual, in fact. In this manual, the author describes fifteen unique and distinct motions a man should be able to make with his penis while making love to a woman. That’s right, fifteen - and you thought “in, out, and repeat as necessary” was it?

Things like:

“…like a sandpiper plucking insects from shore”
or
“..as if a great wave crashing upon a rocky beach”

And so on.

Of course this made for great flirtation fodder, “so, yeah, I have the first 7 down cold, but maybe with you I can finally master 8 and 9?”

The one “motion” they did not cover is what I’ll call “Atomic Fucking". Now, hard fierce sex seems to have gotten a bad rap as of late. Yes, I know that I should heed the call of the great and might Tenacious D and “fuck her gently” but I doubt that even Jack Black would disagree with me on this.

So what is Atomic Sex then? This is that hot, sweaty, sex that runs the fine line between love and anger. The kind of sex where you do not merely thrust yourself into your lover – no, you are out to hurt her with your cock. To penetrate her, and drive yourself into her with an animalistic fury that borders on sadistic. Blinded by your mutual feral lust, you seek to pound her, to fuck her with such a fury of hunger and passion as to leave you both incapable of speech afterwards and, if you have the stamina, unable to put your legs together the next day.

Of course, this really is not the best way to say start your night of love making, no that would be like having Led Zeppelin play as your opening act. This is the kid of sex that leaves you both exhausted and unable to do more than curl into each other and shudder.

Rather, like an atomic bomb, your must assemble the proper components in order to create the chain reaction needed to create this devastating sexual experience.

First you need the proper fissionable base material. A good and sexually charged relationship where you really trust your partner. Yes, there must be lust present, but equally important is trust. If you are to let go of yourself and blindly throw your being into this sort of madness of lust, you better be damn sure your lover is cool with this. Things will be said as you claw madly at each other. Names will be called; curses exchanged and yes, bruises left… If you are not secure that in the heat of your mutual desire, these are in fact cries of love and affection and that the bite marks are tokens of your love - well then, you are going to be having a lot of apologizing to do later.

Next would be the ignition sequence. Again, this is not something you just say, “hey sweetie let’s take off our clothes, pull each other’s hair and call one another filthy names!” No this must be triggered… slowly. We all have them, those little buttons that push us beyond our normal limits, beyond our own control and into that feral space. That space where we fully let goes your control, where we succumb to our inner beasts. You cannot just rush into this space, it must build up pressure. Pull hard against me, dig your nails into my shoulders, bite down hard upon the muscles of my chest and I transform. Like the cursed man when he sees the full moon rise, I can almost feel my canines lengthen and sharpen. Snarling, I respond in kind.

Then there is the whole matter of payload. Just how hard and long can you go like this? Sure there is the physical aspect to consider. You are not merely thrusting your hips together with force, no you are driving your whole body into your lover with hunger and furry. You sweat, you grind flesh, and you both scream… a lot. But how far is too far? What is the difference between, say Bikini Atoll Atomic Fucking and oh say Global Thermal Nuclear War? Duration? Intensity?

Perhaps by the number of cop cars that shows up at your door due to panicked neighbors?

By The Numbers
		Hours slept before photo: 4 Total hours slept in last 7 days: 32 Number of bruises on currently on my body: 6 From armor: 4 From lovers: 2 Shots espresso drunk before photo: 3 Number of e-mails I have received asking when I will post about the “Top Secret Date”: 6 Pounds I have left to loose: 3 Number of photos received from readers: 10 Number of photos received from readers where they are naked: 5 Number of readers who have asked me to take nude photos of them: 2
Number of lovers slept with in last 12 months: 15 Number of lovers slept with in last 12 months whose last name I remember: 14 Number of lovers slept with in last 12 months whose first AND last name I remember: 10 Amount of rope made in the last 7 days (in feet): 2250 Amount of rope I need to make in the next 7 days (in feet): 2000 Amount of rope made in the last 3 months (in miles) 2.1 Pairs of novelty underwear I own: 1 Number of times I have worn said novelty underwear in last 12 months: 3 Amount of rope currently en-route from Romania to my shop (in pounds): 308.6 Number of propositions received from posting photo of my cock (from women): 10 From men: 0 That I am considering: 2 Number of songs on mix CD from Dancer: 22 Number of songs that made me laugh: 4 Number of songs that made me hard: 16 Number of songs that made me cry: 1