Scenes in Search of a victim, redux

So the other night I was enjoying the company of a new friend, the loneliest Wookie. I took him to my favorite pizza place and introduced him to the wonder that is Canadian bacon, pineapple and jalapeño pepper pizza. In between bites of hot spicy pizza, sips of cold beer and the occasional flirtation with the ever hot wait staff we got to talking about scene ideas and stuff we would like to try out but have yet to find the “perfect” victim.

Here is one that has been brewing in my brain recently,

The local swing club hosts a party called “The Happy Hooker Night” where they give all the boys a wad of fake money. The game is for the girls to “earn” said fake money by exchanging favors. Usually something like $100 in fake cash for a lap dance or $500 for oral sex, etc. In the end, the girl who earns the most money over the course of the night, in addition to probably getting her brains fucked out in the process, wins some kind of prize.

So what would happen if you used this for a D/s scene?

Here is my thought. Take a lovely with whom you have been playing the “stone cold top” game with. Now this just can’t be some girl you tie up from time to time, no there needs to be some strong D/s chemistry and she really must hunger for more. You know, you have played with then in all manner of ways and used their body for your pleasure, but have as of yet denied them that final, intimate act. Sex with you. Make her a deal; tonight she has the chance to go all the way. To finally taste the fruit she so desperately hungers for. She has the power to have it all, but she must be willing to earn it.

Set an amount, a large amount, say $5,000, if she can earn that before the evening is over you will grant her wish and spend the rest of the evening together naked, wrapped in each other’s sex.

This is evil and fascinating on several levels. First off, how bad does she want it? Is she willing to hustle the amount of men required to earn such a sum? The whole time you have to wonder, what is going on in her head? Is this worth it to her? Or will she be so sexually satiated by the 5th or 6th boy that she will have no more energy to claim her prize? Or will she be single minded and burn though those boys like a machine, her eyes focused on the prize… finally getting to sleep with the man she hungers for?

And what of the man, you ask? Can you sit back and watch her take any number of men and women sexually, knowing that she is using them to get to you? What will you do if she comes up short at the end of the night? Reward her anyways or punish her for failure?

Another one from Tambo's photoblog


These days they call this "Monk's not here" look. A common state durring the deathmarch days.

The Road Trip

If you were to look at the list of upcoming events on the right side of your screen you will see that Shibaricon is in less than 30 days. This will be the largest rope only kink event in the US and Griffin and I are slated to sell. The question is, how do you get 2 perverts, 10,000 feet of rope and all manner of kinky suspension gear from Seattle to Chicago with out bankrupting the company? The answer? A road trip.

Griffin once told me, “Ya know what the difference between traveling somewhere and having and adventure? The element of risk”

Now just anyone can drive halfway across the US, Griffin and I want an adventure. So we have decided to take a few extra days, see some sites, and see what kinds of trouble we can get into.

The rules:
Never sleep in a national chain hotel
Never eat in a national chain restaurant
Talk to the locals
Tie up as many rope sluts as possible along the way.
No disco tunes

Oh and we will be armed with our laptops and cameras too so there will be updates from the road.


What can you do to help? We would love to meet, eat with, tie up, and possibly crash out on the floors of any readers along the way. Know a great local dive we must see? Let us know!

Farmer’s daughters and hay bales strongly encouraged.

So far the only set in stone event? Griffin insists that we stop at Mt. Rushmore. Why you ask? Is it his burning patriotism? His want to see the heads of dead presidents represented in stone? No I can assure you that his motivation is a bit south of the waistband. I’ll share that with you as this trip takes more shape.

Oh and for those of you who are wondering, “what about the girls?” Well they got smart and booked plane tickets as soon as they heard us contemplate the idea.

UPDATE: The route posted here is our "Proposed" route. We are taking extra time so that we can detour off this route and see things / people along the way.

A manner of degree

Peanut was in the shop last week.

As we sat facing each other chatting, she enjoying a post rope high and me whipping the ends of rope, she asked. “I’m curious about this whole degradation play thing, but it seems like you are skating on such thin ice?”

Still working on the end of rope I casually respond, “The thing to remember here is that this is not an all or nothing thing. Rather it is like ordering Thai food, the number of stars determines just how spicy you want it. You could have a scene where they talk to you like this oh I saw you looking at that boy over there, you are such a naughty little girl who needs to be punished for thinking such thoughts."

"Or you can step it up and say things like,"Leaning in a bit closer I drop my voice a bit and continue, “ you dirty slut, I’m going to hurt you and enjoy it, you know why? You make the prettiest sounds when I do, or...”,
I now lean in very close, my face not 6 inches from hers. I roll my shoulders back and with bared teeth snarl in my evil tone (the one I save for very special occasions), “listen you worthless cunt, I don’t give two fucks as to the state of the meat between your thighs…. I’m going to pass you around to a bunch of long shore men like a bottle of cheap red wine at a party ”
Her pretty eyes now huge saucers of fear, Peanut stares at me in horror.

Leaning back into my chair again I return to my whipping, I remark in my casual tone, “See, all a manner of degree. How many stars do you want?”

Monday’s notes

Pardon me while I recover from getting my ass rocked off at the U2 show last night…

First off, a favor for a friend: If you were working at SEAF on Friday night as a volunteer and happen to go by the name of “Mimi” (or at least did that night) please contact me, I know a dashing and charming young man who wants to buy you a drink.

Second, a note to my customers: If you have placed an order in the last few weeks thank you. We were overwhelmed by the popularity of the “Curiosity Kit”, wow! The first ones will ship out of the Abbey this week.

Lastly, a challenge: Last night, on two separate occasions, Bono pulled a woman out of the audience and took her onstage and sang to her. I have to wonder, would either of these women have journals? If they do and if they wrote about the experience, I’d love to read their account.


Ok, back to the rope.

Today is my one year blog-aversary.

Who knew a year ago that this journal, partly started in an atempt to get the attention of a certain female blogger, would have grown so? Who knes that I'd be posting naked and posting photos of my plaster cock casting? Or that you would even want to see such things? Who knew that I'd share recipies, childhood adventures, and trysts here?

I wonder what next year will hold?

No time to ponder that, the dawn in breaking and I only have a few scant hours to spend in Dancer's arms before returning to the death march that is my day.

There are days I hate this job, days when the dye seems to stick more to me than the rope. Days when my hands, cut and swollen, feel like claws after whipping a hundred ends of rope.

Then there are days like today. Days when the golden light of the sun warms the Abbey. Days when we just click, the rope rolls off the spools and through my hands with ease. Of course the sun and the rope were not all that went well today. No today was also extra cool thanks to a phone order.

What is so special about a phone order you ask? Why yes, I get them all the time. In fact since the Savage Love article my phone has been ringing non-stop. No this phone order was special. You see, she wanted to buy rope but not online. No she wanted to buy it directly from me. So she called.

Oh did I mention that she called me from SPAIN? Yep. I took a phone order from Spain today from a woman with the sweetest accent you have ever heard. Let it be known that I have an accent fetish (one of MANY). I am a complete and total sucker for women who speak Castilian Spanish, that rich and buttery language that seems to roll of the tongue like naked lovers on velvet. She was giddy and nervous at first, but when she gave me her address her voice purred as she pronounced the “r”s.

When I told her that it would be three weeks till her order was ready she pouted and asked sweetly, “I would do anything to get it here by my birthday… is there any way that could happen?”

Oh child, never say, “I’d do anything” to a man like me…

Later, as I told Griffin about the call all he could do was smile and shake his head.
“Dude, that call sounds so hot, I think I’m getting sympathy wood”

2 from Tambo's PhotoBlog.

These were taken last Saturday. We had a HUGE order that had to get out the door on Monday and all sorts of disrtactions and setbacks that day. Let's just say that I was a bit of a stress case. Nothing lowers the blood pressure like some good free form.


Now remember kids, we are trained actors... NOT SCA fighters, so no I will not accept a duel and please don't try this at home with out proper training.

Doppelganger

There is an impostor in our home. As I type this I can see it watching me.

I have often joked that Tambo’s cello is her secondary partner. Since well before I first met and courted her, she had a relationship with it. She has lugged her instrument to countless rehearsals and thousands of recital halls. Its well-worn hundred plus year old wood has been part of our home for almost 20 years. Even when she was not actively playing, it was still a presence. Waiting patently for her to return.

Till this week when she took it in to be appraised and repaired. They offered her a loaner cello so she could still practice. It has sat untouched in her practice room now for days.

It just feels wrong.

Tambo describes the sensation like this, “You know in those sci-fi films where the hero comes home to find their spouse is not really who they think they are? They may look the same and sound the same but really they are like a clone or an alien? That is what it feels like”

Funny, I don’t even play the thing and I have to agree with her.

The Portland Trip, Final

Dark clouds blot out the mild Portland afternoon as I lead her into the teahouse. We sit close, side by side in the corner and sip tea while she tells me about her other lovers. I ply her with more and more tea, she looks cold and the tea will warm her up, among other things.
“How do you feel, child?”
“Sir between the altoid and the rope… I’m wet to my knees. I really must use the bathroom soon.”
“No you will sit and enjoy your tea”
“But please Sir…”
“No, and do not ask again”

Our server, a cute 20 something that could best be described as “crunchy” (you know, that granola kind of girl that would make for a great shaving scene… but that is a story for another day), notices Abigail on my bag and comments. I tell her about the long and colorful history of Shibari and it’s many uses. All the while my left hand, hidden from her view, holds firmly to the dangling ends of her crotch rope. When our server comments, “My this must be amazing stuff to have such a history.” I give the rope a tug as trinket squeaks, “Yes! Oh yes it is certainly amazing stuff!”

We finish our tea and I lead her back out into the gardens for another pass. The sky has momentarily cleared and the sudden rain has worked to our advantage. The place is mostly empty. I know my window of opportunity is short so I must act quickly. I scan left, I scan right and when the time is right we slip past the “Staff Only” sign and behind one of the perimeter buildings. Now I wanted some privacy for this, but not too much. Having never actually been to the gardens before I lucked out. This location was perfect. While mostly hidden from the view of the main gardens a person walking along the street could see us if they peered through the ornate openings along the outer wall or if one of the garden patrons were to look too far around a corner. The sounds of the city pour past us as stood there.

Raising her skirt for me once again, I quickly remove the rope. She yips and protests as I pull the rope across her swollen sex and pull her pubic hair in the process. Stepping back to admire the results of 2 plus hours in a crotch rope I nod and smile at her ligature marks. Pale skin and tight rope make for some wonderful marks.

And now for the moment of truth. She asked me to humiliate her, to make her feel dirty and used. So far everything has been going pretty much to plan. The restaurant, the photos, her responses… but this. Well this was the final move, the big one. I said it before that this date was to be a test, both for her and I. She may claim her willingness to do “anything I demand of her” but I think we all know that words only go so far. Before I start asking my friends to participate in a Bukkake scene, I need to know just how serious she really is.

Stepping back I snap my fingers and point at the ground beneath her feet and say in low, even tones, a tone reserved for errant puppies.
“Piss. Here. Now.”

With out a pause she hikes her skirt up and squats for me. Her brown eyes, round and pleading for praise, She never breaks eye contact during the act. The only sounds I hear are my breathing and the splash of her urine on the dirty cobblestones. Once completed, before she has the chance to right herself, I reach down and take hold of the back of her neck. (I should note here that rope makers are known for having very strong forearms, mine are no exception) Grabbing a fist full of hair, I pick her up in one swift motion and kiss her mouth. No I don’t kiss her as much as I take her mouth with mine and force myself upon it. Kissing her hard and deep, never letting up on my grip. This was to be her reward for an afternoon’s service. A moment of unbridled, savage contact.

Then, as soon as it started, it was over. I hold her at arm’s length away from me and say. “Well done whore, I release you from your service”
“ Thank you… sir” she trembles
I then pull her back into my arms and hold her trembling form next to mine, stroking her hair and cooing praise in her ear as afternoon rain begins again.

Later, back again at Powell’s Books, we sit and talk about all that had just happened.
She confesses that in those last moments, he legs damp with sex and piss, she felt truly and completely used. Dirty beyond words and loving every moment of it, she tells me “I’ll do that again, and any thing else you would ask of me Sir”
Laughing, I warn her “Careful, my child, anything is a big word. I could ask you to do something foul like sweep the abbey naked”
“If that pleases you Sir, I would do that and more…”

Oh my.

Later, on the train home, I place two calls. The first is to my dearest Tambo. I tell her briefly of my day and she laughs, saying “I’m so glad you can do that… with someone ELSE!” We agree to meet up for late night Chinese food and proper re-telling of the tale when I get home in a few hours time.

The next call is to Dancer. I tell her of my day and she laughs. Congratulating me on my success she asks, “So, what did you learn today?”
My response?
“It’s much like making good sushi. The devil is in the details. With out the tiny details, those little flourishes, it is just raw fish on cold rice. However when one pays proper attention to the tiny details you can create something very cool. This however also requires a HUGE investment of time and energy. Dozens of hours of planning, cleaning and prep work are required to make a meal that will only last about 20 minutes. Not something I could do everyday…not even once a week, but for a special occasion… well for that perhaps I could be up for it.”

We kiss our goodnights as I return to my seat. Settling in to my seat, lulled by the rhythmic rocking of the train, I slowly drift off to sleep while my ipod plays Motorhead’s “I ain’t no nice guy after all”

This and that…

Went to the private opening of SEAF last night. Flirted a bit, some good art, watched Bhutto dance, saw some AMAZING art, seriously considered taking up sculpture and ate bread made with vaginal yeast.


Today we have a whole list of folks coming to the Abbey. Let’s see…. There is Fetish Diva Midori, Riggermortis, The English Tart, and most importantly… my dad. Yep, my dad is coming to the Abbey for the very first time.

I’m a bit nervous about this one.

The Portland Trip Pt2.

“Well this is going better than I expected” I think to myself as I saunter off to the restroom, leaving her alone in the private room with her choice. I’m really not sure what she is going to do next. I have a good idea, but anything can happen. No I take that back, I know what is going to happen next. She will be waiting for me in the room. I can smell the hunger on her. Nobody has ever stood up to her like this and denied her in such a fashion. She loves every moment of it.

The question is rather, how long do I make her wait? Will the waiter come in before me and what kind of response will that bring about? How far can I push her? This is a first play date after all and in public, how far is too far?

When I slide back the false wall and enter the room, the first thing I notice is that her chair is empty. Hmm, maybe she took what was behind door number 2 after all? Then I see the back of her head just on the other side of the table. She is kneeling in front of my chair… excellent.

Closing the door I come around behind her and then, standing right behind her silent kneeling form, I place a well oiled boot between her shoulder blades and push her down to the floor.

“Do you give me your body and mind fully, to do with as I please, for the remainder of our time together?”
“Yes sir”
I remove my boot and take my seat in front of her prostrate form.
“Then kiss my boots”
There is something uniquely satisfying about the press of a woman’s lips against a well-polished boot, especially when I’m the one wearing the boot. Her head rises slightly from it’s resting point on the floor as she places her lips on the black surface of my boots. First a peck at the toe, then a longer kiss at the base of the ankle.
“Well done trinket, very good” I praise her as I stroke her hair.
“Now rise and remove your panties”
She stands with a wobble and takes a deep breath as she pulls the sheer black briefs from her hips.
“Now present them to me and tell me how you completed my last pre-date task.”
In addition to instructing her on what to wear and when to meet, the last message I sent her was a bit of a challenge. A task I wanted her to complete before our date. She was to have an orgasm while wearing these panties. This orgasm was to be at the hands of someone other than herself. I did not care who or how, just that it not be by her own hand.
“Sir, I’m…. sorry to displease you….but”, she stammers as she places the bundle of cotton in my outstretched palm. “My date last night was.. well she… um..”
“You failed my instructions?”
“Yes sir”, her eyes downcast.
Well so much for the have her kneel and tell me about the lesbian sex she had this morning plan. Time to let the evil bastard out.
“I am not pleased. Spread your legs, cunt.”
I reach between her legs and in one sudden and swift motion I shove the wad of black cotton inside her sex. Her eyes go from downcast to wide shock in a flash as her jaw drops open in surprise.

“Now sit and finish your dessert”
With a nervous gulp she complies. Her body twitches and wiggles against the chair as she comes to grips with the object inside her.
I on the other hand sit back in my chair and sip my coffee. My face a mask of indifference. Of course inside I’m screaming “HOLLY SHIT! DID I JUST DO THAT?! DAMN THAT WAS HOT!”

Coffee refilled, check paid, waiter heavily tipped and now we must leave out private little world and take our game out into the public.
“Stand, face me and remove your panties… again and give them to me”
With a shudder and smile she draws them out from inside her and places the now very wet bundle in my hand.
“Care for an Altoid? I ask casually”
“Please sir”
“Good”
I reach for the metal tin and the coil of rope in my bag and face her. Opening the tin, I place one mint in my mouth and savor it’s “curiously strong” bite. Then I take another and slide it inside her wet sex.
“Now whatever you do, don’t let that fall out” I say in a patronizing tone, as if instructing a child
“No… sir” she responds with a grimace as she presses her thighs together.
“Oh is that difficult to do? I ask with mock concern. “Here let me help you a bit.”
Taking the coil of rope, I quickly draw it around her waist a few times then run it between her labia, weaving it back along itself to make the tension between her lips quite strong. Once knotted off, I leave the loose end of the rope dangling between her legs. just lower than the hem of her skirt.

“Now be a good little trinket and fetch our coats while I wash my hands. I want you to wait for me in the lobby….and no you may not sit down.”

I must pause for a moment and tell you all just how delightfully evil it feels to turn the corner and see a lovely woman standing in an expensive hotel lobby making nervous chit chat with the hosts hoping that nobody will point out that there is in fact a coil of bondage rope dangling between her knees.

As we exit the hotel and enter the windy Portland afternoon, she leans up to me and pauses just short. One of the rules for this afternoon was that she was to not touch me with out first asking permission.
“Sir, may I take your arm?”
“Why?”
“I feel… so exposed”
“Good. Now let’s walk up a bit and grab this cab”

Once we reach Chinatown and the Classical Gardens I’m feeling pretty damn great. I think I have this worked out. As long as I appear to be in complete control and radiate that confidence, then she will do whatever I ask. Of course this also means I’m on constant watch. Looking at her, watching her responses (granted that has not been too hard, she has had an ear to ear smile on her face since the panty incident), looking at everyone who is near us, watching out for potential interlopers or distractions.

I take photos of her as we tour the gardens, slipping her into semi private spaces and making her expose her self as I snap away. She is well aware that we are being watched.
“That man is staring at me Sir.”
“I know, so are those 2 boys in the corner. They saw you pull your skirt up back there. Shall I invite them over for a closer look?”

By now the “no physical contact with out permission” rule is making her insane. I can see that she desperately wants to reach out, to touch me, to make that connection. I could put my arm around her, comfort her and she will feel less exposed, less naked. Or I make matters worse by leaning into close and whispering in her ear, my cheek but a faction of an inch from her lips. She clenches her fists and stomps her feet...she trembles with desire. Obviously she is a girl who is used to getting her way. Used to using her charms to get boys to fall over themselves in order to please her. Take this away from her and she is now powerless.

I should point out here that when snapping exhibitionist shots in a public space, one does not exactly have the luxury of time. No, well-framed and composed shots are really not the name of the game. We are shooing porn here, fast loose and frankly non-flattering in many ways. She knows that I’m not going to show them to her and that I’ll probably post them here. Further adding to her humiliation. The idea of it alone still makes her blush.

I snapped and taunted her for the better part of an hour, each time growing bolder till she found herself bent over an antique Asian desk while a group of tourists were not 5 feet away. NOT WORK SAFE

This has been fun, but it is time to finish the game. The weather is shifting and the hour grows late. Time to deliver the killing blow and make her humiliation complete… but that, dear readers will have to wait. I have rope that needs my attention right now.

The Abbey, slowly coming together.


When we first moved into the space that we now call The Abbey, I pointed to one of the dingy grey walls and announced that Abigail (our corporate logo) would go on that wall. That was almost 4 months ago. Tonight Tambo will be putting the final touches on her. The space has come a long way since we first took it over, and it still have many miles to go before it is ready to show off to the public. However even in it's rough state it is still a wonderful place, home.

“They say that art imitates life. Or is it that life imitates art…maybe we are all just imitating Art Garfunkel?”
-Woody Allen

I deliver my print to SEAF today for the upcoming show. Now while I am very delighted and proud to be in the show, lord knows there are a lot of great photographers who did not make it in this year, I’m having trouble getting exited for it. This is of course due to the unbelievable amount of rope I still have left to finish before next Monday. Top it off with like 3 VIP visits to the Abbey this weekend as well.

Then I stop and look at the photo, beautify matted and framed by Tambo, and well it makes me smile.

I have never considered myself a “Fine Art Photographer”, rather I like to think that I take erotic portraits. The difference to me is that a fine art photographer captures shape and tone, line and composure while an erotic portrait captures a person, steals a little bit of their ju-ju if you will forever freezing it in time. When I look at the piece that will be on display this weekend I feel like I did just that. I captured her, if but for a moment.

Of course it does not hurt that the photo is of someone I adore beyond words as well as inspires me.

Speaking of having a piece of my work in the upcoming show, I also have a piece OF me in the show. Remember the plaster casting I did back in November? Well the artist will have a sculpture based on my… um… endowment on display as well.

In other news, I need a local Seattle reader / kinkster who is a mechanical engineering type. We have a small machine we want built and need someone who knows his or her way around a Graingers catalog. Interested parties should e-mail me directly.

The Portland Trip PT1
7am on a Saturday is far too early to catch a train. Far too early when you were up till 2 am working on an order, but there I was none the less. Last night was a late one and tomorrow the Shibaricon death march officially starts, but not today. Today I’m taking the day off and rewarding myself by embarking on a bit of an adventure.

As I settle into my seat in the fist class coach for the 3.5-hour trip to Portland, I’m not with out distractions. At my feet, a duffle bag full of rope needing their ends whipped. In my lap, the first three chapters of a manuscript I’m very fortunate to be previewing. Even with all these distractions, I keep finding myself with a furrowed brow wondering, “Can I pull this one off?”

Today is to be a play date. Or should I say that today is to be a challenge, for both my date as well as myself. I met her at KinkFest. She came to the booth on the last day looking for rope, when she left 2 hours later she had all manner of rope marks across her pale skin and the burning desire for more… more than just rope. Sure the bondage of the physical kind thrilled her to no end, however she wanted bondage of the mental kind as well.

The name of the game today is to be full D/s play with public humiliation. A lovely and confident girl, she wants to be used, to be dominated and to be made dirty.

Not as easy as one might think. Historically I have never been a huge fan of the whole “Master/slave” thing. I’ve done some play in the past with mixed results, however recently I have noticed a small, but growing desire to explore this. I’m not entirely sure why, save that it makes my cock hard when I do it, but that is part of the reason for this date. To scratch that itch and see if I have it in me to deliver a good D/s experience.

That and the whole humiliation play thing is charming as hell, I love the idea of it but rarely get the opportunity to indulge that aspect of my kink.

Today was to be a challenge, of sorts, for both of us. My plan was to spend the afternoon in Portland with her. We would meet for lunch, talk face-to-face about our expectations and limits, and then, if all went well, perhaps have a bit of fun… in public. Mind you I was only to be in the city for 6 hours and we had already agreed that sex was not on the menu today. No, the “bind ’em, beat ‘em, & fuck ‘em” strategy was right out. It was not what was between her legs that I wanted to control, it was what was between her ears. This was to be about the exchange of power.

The thing about challenges is that when faced with a challenge, one can either step aside or step up. I chose to step up, so in classic “Go Big or Go Home” style I had spent the last 2 weeks planning. Revising scene ideas with Griffin and Tambo, discussing domination styles with Dancer, and pouring over places to go in Portland where this all could take place with out us getting arrested or mugged.

The plan was to meet at noon at the Powell’s bookstore. Arriving early, I takea quick lap and see that is sitting where I had instructed her, dressed in the manner I had instructed her to. I pause and notice that my hands are shaking. Not a good sign. The lack of sleep and caffeine has not helped my nerves, “OK, here goes…” As I take deep breath slowly exhale the jitters away, I must shift into character. Gone now is the silly, switchy, rope guy who likes to take novelty Viking helmets to play dates. No, now I must think like a “Master”, focus on the details and be very confident and in complete control. "I can do this." I tell myself. Jaw set, shoulders squared I stride into the room like Morpheous. She knows I’m approaching, she must have heard my boots as I walked across the tile floor. Her posture shifts slightly, but she never raises her head to acknowledge me till I’m towering in front of her.

“Trinket, are you ready” I ask.
“Yes Sir”

Our pre-scene rules were simple. She was to address me at all times as “Sir” and I was to take her born name away from her and use the name I had chosen for her. I could give her instructions on how and where to sit and how to behave but no physical play was to take place till we both had had a chance to sit and talk face to face about our expectations and requirements.

Stepping outside I hit my first problem. Where the hell are all the cabs in Portland? Our lunch reservations are in less than 10 minutes, the resturant is 12 blocks away and I can’t see a cab anywhere! The dominate in this sort of thing means that you have already taken everything into account and have EVERYTHING figured out. Even if you don’t you still have to at least look like you have it all under control.
“Sir, if it pleases you I took the liberty of programming the cab companies number into my phone.”
“Yes. My child, that would be most appropriate.” I nod.
Dancer once told me that a good submissive was not someone who could just follow instructions mindlessly but actively sought out ways to make their master happy.” So far, so good

The restaurant was a stuffy affair set beneath an even stuffier hotel. One of those great monoliths downtown where they have a small army of men in suits stationed at the front door, all eager and waiting to serve you. The host, dressed in a black tux, leads us past tables of blue suited old men and their blue haired wives. We are definitely under dressed for the place, me in my black jeans and leather jacket and her in her mid length skirt and heels. I did not choose this place for it’s patronage, nor for it’s food even. No I chose this place for one reason and that reason was to be revealed as the host slid back a false oak paneled wall to reveal a dimly lit wine cellar with one small table set for two.

Crossing the threshold from the starkly lit outer world, we enter into a scene from one of the Sleeping Beauty books. Wine bottles, resting in racks of oak span from stone floor to arched ceiling on all sides. The table is lit with only candles and a few small indirect lights. Once we are shown our seats, the game begins.
“Turn away from the table and face me”
She complies
“Good, now raise your skirt up just above your knees. Good, now spread your legs.”
Again she complies.
"You are not to address the waiter with out my permission"

I order lunch for us both, her gaze cast down at the table she never says a word. The waiter, a 30 something man who has been trying hard (in vain) to not stare at her bare legs, turns to me as he is about to close the door to our private world and says, “Excellent choices today, Sir”

Over the course of the meal we discuss our relationships, expectations, and histories. I should mention here that with every pass of the waiter, I instruct her to raise her skirt a bit higher, so high that by the time he comes to show us the dessert options he is straining his chin back so he can stare down at her crotch with out actually tipping his head.
“He totally thinks I’m an escort”
“Perhaps, how does that make you feel?”
“...Aroused”

As the after dinner coffee is served, I motion the waiter to come closer. “I’m going to need about 10 minutes of privacy”
He flashes a knowing smile, “Of course Sir, take all the time you need. I’ll be waiting outside when you are ready”

So far, so good, the restruant choice has worked to my advantage. The negotiations have gone well, we both agree that we are both here for play and that neither are looking to the other for getting their emotional needs fulfilled. She is responding well to my commands and I’m enjoying the hell out watching her squirm as she complies.

Time for phase two. I have her turn and face me. I rise and stand above her.

I do my best to channel my inner John Malcovitch as I speak,” And now , my child, we come to a fork in the road. Decision time. So far this has been a delightful lunch date with some delightful flirtation. Now is the time when you must choose what is to happen next. If you wish, you can end this now.” I pull a $10 bill from my pocket and place it in front of her. “This will cover your cab fare home. Take it and consider our date complete. I won’t be disappointed for it was a lovely lunch. However if you choose to stay and see just how far down the rabbit hole goes. Well then, I’m going to go wash my hands. When I return you will either be here, on your knees waiting for me, or gone.”

Opening to door, I look at her over my shoulder and say, “Either way, the choice is yours.” And exit the room


I have written far too much for one day, this tale will be continued

This is Rossi...

She is a silly girl.

We call her "Rabbid Bunny Slave"... but that is a story for another day.

Ladies and Gentelmen, I'm a "guest expert" in this week's Savage Love.

Wow, just wow...

I can now die... well no not really, not till after my dinner date next week with Midori. Then, then I can die a fulfilled man... no wait I have that huge order to ship out to Austrailia that Monday after... Oh then there is the whole matter of the pink rope I promised Lady Mistress Big Time Rope Tippity Top...

Awe forget it, I guess I'll just keep doing what I do best.

Now go read the column and enjoy, I got rope to make.

I must say a huge thank you to Dancer for her part in making this happen. 3LW babe, 3LW...

Regarding Rigging

Dear Monk,

I am an avid reader of your blog and love seeing all the lovely women you hang up every week at the Abbey. I am just starting up as a rope top and would love to learn suspension bondage. Will you teach me?

Namaste,
Reed


No.

While I love to show folks knots and try to de-mystify rope bondage as a fun and accessible kink, I draw the line at suspension. Now most bondage is very safe (with some obvious safety precautions taken into account of course!) however as soon as you get someone’s weight off the ground and supported in rope (or have the potental for that, i.e. partal suspension), it is a whole other matter. Suspension bondage is fantastic, dramatic and VERY dangerous if you do not know what you are doing. Truth be told, I’m a far better rope maker than I am a rigger, yet. I love to do it and believe that I do it safely, I however still have a lot left to learn and have not logged NEARLY the hours required to properly teach it. No, for that you need to seek out folks like Max at bondagelessons.com for that sort of instruction. Here is someone who has spent more hours under a hard point that most of us have had hot meals.

I'm happy to sell you the rope, he is the one to ask about hanging someone upside down. I still seek out his advice on the topic.

Peanut,

Griffin and I have adopted. She is a baby kinkster we just both adore and have decided to take under wing. We are calling her “Peanut”. On her first visit to the Abbey she had no idea what to buy or how to tie, but she knew that she liked rope. Not exactly sure why she liked it, but boy did she like it. At her request, we tied her up and set her in a chair in a sun soaked corner and left her there. As we went about our work, we would peek in on her, stroke her hair, offer her water and make sure she was still ok. Safe and warm, we were rewarded by the biggest smile you have ever seen.

Now why on earth would two big bad tops like us do such a thing? Perhaps you might think us cradle robbers, corrupting some young unknowing girl before she gets her kink legs under her? No, quite the contrary really.

I like the term “Coming out of the dungeon” for describing the process of coming to terms with one’s kink. This really is no small matter. There are a lot of new ideas, terms, and experiences that one needs to process. Also, let’s face it some kinky people are kinda scary. All one needs to do is walk around a public dungeon on a Saturday night to get a good idea of the single male tops that are on the prowl. For a newbie, this can be enough to scare you right back into the closet, never to come out.

I remember my first trip to the WetSpot. I was FULLY unprepared for what I saw that night and it took me nearly a year to come back. I think we, as more experienced players, forget that what we do can be really scary to the casual observer.

When talking about D/S, some folks take on terms like “Sir”, or “Master” or “Daddy”. Griffin and I joke that we are her “Kinky Big Brothers”. Not looking for sex, but rather there to answer her questions, scare off the creepy self important male tops, tie her up and be there for her as she grows into the fully developed kinkster she will eventually become.

Keep it among friends

The other day Galahad and I were chatting at the Abbey, you know just catching up when he asked me about the bukkake scene I was planning. His first question, of course, was whether or not I was thinking of asking him to participate. If so, he was really unsure what his response would be.

Now here is the funny thing. Since that post I have had four, count em, FOUR other women offer me their bodies for such a scene, should my intended victim change her mind. My guy friends, on the other hand, have one by one been making sure to be on the “no way in hell list”. WTF? I’m getting girls lining up to be on the receiving end of this but all the men are too chicken to do it?

I think perhaps it is a matter of performance anxiety. For the girl the challenge will be a mental one. Sure there are physical elements to the scene that will be stressful, but most of her challenge will be internal. Now the boys on the other hand, well their challenge will be external… and in their hands as they try to keep wood AND perform. Interesting, you would think that with a dozen or so others there the performance anxiety would be reduced?

Of course leave it to Galahad to say this, “Now when I think of things I might invite my friends to, I think of dinner. Or hey let’s have a movie night and invite some friends. Not, hey guys wanna come do a circle jerk on some random girlie?”

My response?
“What are friends for if not to share with? Who else would I ask…strangers?”

Let’s talk rope

Tomorrow there is a class at the WetSpot on how to finish your own rope. I will be there selling raw rope as well as finished stock.

Max is teaching another one of his fabulous 2-day intensive classes this month. If you want to learn bondage from one of the best instructors on the west coast, GO HERE NOW AND SIGN UP! His last class filled up in less than 10 days, so do not dawdle here kids.

Lastly, my company is proud to be a sponsor of “Rope Weekly”, Greydancer’s weekly web radio show. Check them out here.