Monday, April 11, 2005

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?”

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