“You should dress up as a stockbroker”

Halloween was invented by a frustrated vanilla person with no creative outlet. For one night a year you get to dress up like anything you want, what do most adult choose? Kink themed costumes. Tonight there will be more “sexy pirates”, “sm vampires”, dominatrixes and cross dressers than you can shake a flogger at.

When you get to do this pretty much any weekend night you want, and in some cases get paid for it, playing dress up on Halloween just sorta looses its appeal. So for those poor souls who have yet to embrace your inner pervert (and give it a good spanking) and just admit that you like dressing up in drag and should do it more often, have fun tonight.

Me? I love this holiday for the horror movies.

I’ve written often here about my love of scary cinema. Sure, gore films are fun, but give me a suspenseful horror film that keeps turning up the tension until my ass checks are clenched so tight they hurt. That, dear readers, is a good time. I found this little gem on youtube, a tight little student horror film that delivers a good dose of tension in a tight, cgi package.



Have fun tonight folks, don't eat too many mini candy bars, those little bastards can add!

Day two of Monk’s mad (not calling it a death march) week, continues.

Still up to my ass in backlogged orders that need to be dealt with this week, but a comment left to yesterday’s photos got me to thinking.

Monk-
Your expressions and body language are hot. I'm finally starting to understand that my sexual orientation has nothing to do with who I want to tie me up. Ya see, I'm a dyke. And you're dreamy


Well, first and formost thanks for the compliment. Don’t think I have ever been referred to as “dreamy”, of course I’m hoping that it the good sort of dreamy and not the Freddy Kruger/Nightmare on Elm Street “dreamy” sorta thing. Nice, but that is not what got me thinking.

But I digress; a dyke wants to play with a straight male top? Scandalous? Hardly. While the idea of tying up a boy does not trigger my “good idea meter”, I enjoy trying up the occasional boy. On the other side of the spectrum, I’ve enjoyed some great scenes with lesbian identified females as well. Perhaps it is the separation of “sex” from “play” so the focus of the experience is less result oriented and more about the rope itself? I know I’m not alone here. Locally there is a “ladies rope club” where a group of girls get together to practice their rope skills. Taking turns tying each other up and having a grand time. Maybe it is a rope thing or a “Seattle” thing, but such cross pollination of play is pretty common.

So Chicklet, wanting to get tied up by me probably does not mean that you need to re-check your sexual identify. You are safe in your choice there, you just happen to want to experience the joys of rope from a straight guy. Just as I, pretty firmly comfortable in my sexuality, am looking forward to leaping upon a certain young man this weekend in hopes of getting some rope on him. Not that I’m looking to fuck the guy (sadly, it seems like half my female friends would buy tickets for the event), but simply because I enjoy the way we interact when there is rope between us.

Back in the saddle and going like mad

Thanks for all the well wishes, Tambo sends her thanks out to everyone. It is back to the shop for me, lots and LOTS to get done this week. So while I attend to this pile of rope that needs whipping, here are some fun shots from Folosm.

The charming Ms Nefarious at socialkink.com asked if I would not mind tossing some rope her way. Hmm, tie up a pretty girl? Gee I dunno, well since you asked so nice I guess so.


The rest of the shots can be seen here (registration with socalkink.com required).


As soon as I get my ass out of this production backlog I'm in I'll be doing an interview and other stuff for these guys. So far the site seems pretty cool and Ms. Nikki... well with a smile like that, how can you not like her?
ok, I best get my ass back on the shop floor.

What the hell am I doing at the Abbey at 2 am on a Saturday morning? No this is not a post about some late night shenanigans, sure my workshop has played host to many a pre-dawn adventure, this is not one of those posts. Nope, I’m here trying to finish a birthday gift. See, we were a dye job behind schedule. While a problem, not an insurmountable one. I often use the quiet of the weekend to get caught up on such things. Reveling in the novelty of having the entire shop all to myself again, just like back in the old days.

However this will not be the case this particular weekend.

See, it is my dearest Tambo’s birthday this weekend and I wanted to give her something truly unique. Something that as of yet, I have found no way to buy, make or steal. More precious than diamonds, something that, when given, holds great value.

My time.

To her, this weekend, I give her my most precious asset, my complete and undivided attention. However, in order to give this gift I needed to pull an all nighter. Promises to customers must be kept as well as the promises to my employees. And so, as I type this the last of this errant batch of black rope drips dry behind me. Soon I will inspect it for flaws and once satisfied, wheel the rack of damp rope into my drying room to cure over the weekend.

With that last act, I now go offline for the next 48 hours. I shall return to this rope, and to you dear readers, on Monday.

Till then, happy birthday my sweetest love. Thank you for sharing me with the rest of this madness I call my world and doing it with such grace and humor. You are my center, my foundation, my paladin and best friend. I cannot do what I do with you.


Oh and for those of you who think I'm being a cheap bastard just taking the weekend off to hang out with my wife, I also got her a new X-box 360, Halo 3, and Guitar Hero 3. Let the Nerding begin!

Triple booked kinda Thursday

Not much bandwidth to write today, got a million things that need my attention today and not nearly enough time to address them all.

One thing worth noting, if you are a fan of horror you should check out 30 Days of Night. Tambo and I saw it last night. Now we are both seasoned horror film fans and pretty jaded too say the least. This film kicked our asses and had us, yes us screaming with surprise and shock. We are counting it up there with 28 Days Later as a horror film experience that caused us to walk out of the theater on shaky legs and repeatedly gasp at the other, "dude, did that just happen?!"


If I owe you an e-mail, check or blowjob this week, have faith and be patient.

In an odd turn of poly fate, all three of the women I adore all have birthdays within a few weeks of each other. Starting today I enter the “Birthday vortex of loves" Yes, yes I have three Scorpios in my life. Not sure if you should envy or worry for me? Me either, oh well it certainly keeps me from getting complacent.

Today marks the anniversary of the birth of my little Alex.

Shuffling through old photos last night, as I pondered just what to say in this post, I came across some shots from one of the first scenes that Alex and I shared. The night I taught Alex how to polish my boots. Shot in my loft office, the shots featured a sweet kid with bleached out hair staring at the camera with an awkward sort of uncertainty, attractive yet with the shadow of worry in their eyes. Hard to believe that this is the same person who yesterday, as they spread their homework out on my loft floor, looked at me with those same eyes. Yet this time, the shadows of doubt were replaced with confidence and poise. Catching me staring wistfully, Alex gracefully moves across the floor and places head adoringly on my knee.
“What’s up Daddy?”
“Nothing, just proud.”
“You are such a sentimental dork., Daddy”

Yeah, yeah I guess I am.

Happy birthday Alex. It has been an honor to watch you grow and evolve into a truly amazing person, I look forward to seeing where this all takes you.

I am so proud to be your Daddy.

Random Tuesday Crap

Matisse posted her first podcast, I’m doing my best “color commentary” routine on this one. I think it sounds great and she, as always, is the coolest thing ever.

What about our podcast you ask? Kinda got shelved for the summer as we addressed the technical shortcomings of actually trying to record IN the Abbey, but MM and I share the same recording studio and engineering tech so expect to hear more from us as well.

Speaking of the Mistress, it is official we are going to be playing “Mr. & Mrs. Leather Santa” for the Seattle Men in Leather’s annual Photos With Santa fundraiser. I’ll post more when I have all the details, but I think it is going down at the Cuff Complex in Seattle on Dec, 7th.

Oh and the costume for said Santa will probably be little more than a hat and strategically placed garland of mistletoe. I see that my current 4 days a week at the gym routine will need to be augmented if I hope to pull this one off. Maybe adding a day of yoga?

And speaking of photos, anyone got shots from the piercing demo I did at the Spot on Saturday night?

A photo is worth 1,000 words...


Feast your eyes on this wicked custom ass hook that I will be delivering to a very happy customer. Yes, that is a series of balls, starting at reasonable 1.5 inch and progressing to a massive 2 inch monster at the end. Custom crafted and lovingly made by my amazing steel guy. If you look close at the photo in the bottom left you can see that he signs all his works of art.

Now to all those who keep asking me how do they get thier hands on some of the amazing steel toys I keep posting. Fear not, a major roll out is in the works so stay tuned. As usual you, the loyal reader, will be the first to know.

Guilty pleasures

What can I say, I adore the music of ABBA. Sure it is overplayed in more gay discos and hair salons than ever but there is something so timelessly catchy and danceable about it. If there is ABBA playing, I’m probably shaking my ass like a low rent dancing queen.

Yesterday Matisse, after having seen some old clips of the band had this to say.
“I could not believe it, the video was SO cheesy! They all looked a bit like badly done drag queens on valium.”
“Now keep in mind this was the mid 1970’s”, I tried to tell her, “the art of the music video was still in its embryonic form. That and they were from a semi socialist Northern European country, so they were working from a disadvantage”
“Still, I can’t see why you are so in love with them, yeah it is catchy music but still”
And so the truth had to come out.

See, my first memories of ABBA were not from any radio station or film clip of the Swedish foursome rocking out in matching sweaters. No, it was from the muppets. ABBA was featured heavily on that show and I guess it made an imprint on my young brain.

In finding the clip to show her I also came across this amazing tribute / parody featuring puppets. I you watch closely you will also spot Neil from The Young Ones, Cher, and all four members of the original band.


I once heard a rumor that the band was offered something to the tune of a billion dollars to reform and go on tour again.

An open letter for my dear friend,


A sweet and wonderful friend of mine is going though some first time poly angst. I started to write a comment of encouragment on her journal and it sorta spilled into more. So I thought it best to share.

Dear ...,
So you are about to embark on your first poly foray. Kinda scary huh? It was so much easier when it was you and your husband sharing a girlfriend. But now you are about to embark on a solo relationship, your own secondary partner. One that you will have to care and maintain on your own. Scared? Exited at the prospects? Not sure what it all means?

Let me tell ya something sister, I been there and its gonna be ok. I remember the first date that I ever went on solo. Up to this point all our explorations into non-monogamy had been together, sharing our bed with several sweet ladies or forays into the swinger world. Always something we did together. Now things were to be different, I was going on a date alone. My greatest fear was, would this be the beginning of the end? Would my desire to have this relationship, however casual it may be, with out my wife’s involvement (beyond her meeting and approval of said girl of course) be the high watermark that we could look back on and see just where the marriage went south? Was I about to cash in the love of my high school sweetheart for this?

Short answer, no. In the 12 years since that first date I’ve had a lot of secondary lovers. Some good, some bad but in the end the constant has always been Tambo. She is the foundation, the rock that centers me and makes it possible for me to do what I do. Your husband is that same centering force for you. In the few short years I have known you both I can see how much love there is and how strong that relationship is. You guys get it. Take it from someone who has made every poly mistake in the book and fucked up more relationships that I care to remember.

To be poly and having multiple partners is not about replacing something that is broken in your relationship, but rather adding to something that works and creating something altogether better.

So first and foremost, I bet your head is zinging with the buzz of the new relationship and all the potential that lies with in. This new relationship energy is a wonderful thing; it keeps you up at night wondering about the smallest details about this new person. It can also be confusing, the constant buzz drowning out all other thoughts. You wonder, "OMG does this mean I’m not in love with my partner if all I can think about is this new person?" Nope, it is still there. Once the flash and smoke of the new thrill has subsided, there it will be like it always has been. Don’t confuse these feeling for love. On the same token, don’t just assume that your primary partner is going to wait patiently for the buzzing to stop. Make a point to give extra attention and reassurance to his during this time.

I hate to sound like a curmudgeon, but this confusion will pass. The shine wears off. I’ve had so many people who in the first 6 weeks I was so infatuated and thrilled by them that I thought for sure that I was “in love” for sure. After 6 months? Like any good drug, the high wears off and you find yourself thinking, is this really working for me?

Or it may not. It was a good 6 months before we said the “L” word to each other and have not looked back since. That was almost 4 years ago and we have not left our partners. While we are woven tightly into the fabric of each other’s lives and deeply in love, I still spend most of my days with Tambo. She is the one I’m planning on growing old with, still my foundation.

Alas, I am rambling on this rainy Seattle morning.

In closing, my dear, relax you are going to be ok. Enjoy the high of this new experience but don’t forget that the love you and your partner have for each other is reason why you are here. This boy may not be “the other one”, but enjoy it for what it is and remember, you are not replacing love just adding more love to mix.

I’m here for ya,
-Monk

Bark at the moon!

Tambo, proving yet again that she is the most awesome partner in the universe, scored us tickets to the Rob Zombie / Ozzy show that went down last night. Not just tickets, but 10th row VIP passes.

My metal-head maiden, she's the best.

I once had the chance to see Ozzy when he came through Spokane way back on the "Diary of a Madman" tour. I'm thinking I should have seen him then. While he was pretty spry for an old guy who has cooked most of his brain away. He bounced around (as best he could) and waved his hands with this odd sort of joy. Sorta resembled a cross between a special Olympics kid and a deranged Muppet. Still the guy could put on one hell of a show.

Zombie? oh I love me some Rob Zombie. Seen him now like 3 times? A big, garish carnival of gore, sex and grinding guitars. Like watching old monster movies while taking acid and having deviant sex with a team of Roller Derby girls. W00T!

An indecent proposal?

Dear Monk, Sir.

my name is *deleted*, W/we met on *deleted*. i had the pleasure of watching You play several times and can’t get over how hot it is to watch You. The way You move is as if you were dancing! Every time i see you show up at a party i know i’m in for a treat. (OMG, what You did last Saturday was so hot!) Watching You play i have noticed two things. You always wear one of those tight, white tank top style shirts and when You are done You always strip out of the sweat soaked shirt. (OMG that is nice to watch too). I don’t want to sound like a creepy fan girl (Too late huh?) I was wondering what would a girl have to do to get her hands one of those sweat soaked shirts? i'd be willing to pay for the pleasure of owning one!

OK… so this is a first. Now if it were not for the fact that I remember meeting this person this would be a very, very strange e-mail. Odd capitalizations aside, she seemed like a nice enough gal. The shirt in question would be this. I’ve taken to wearing these pretty much all the time when I play. I’ve always run a few degrees warmer than most and when your play motto is “If the top is not just as exhausted as the bottom then you are doing it wrong” I tend to get rather damp by the end of the scene. I started packing a change of clothes after Tambo refused to leave the warmth of the party with me for fear that I may catch hypothermia going out into the cold. So the question is, how do I feel about selling my used clothing? I mean sure, it is very common for female sex workers to sell their used panties. (Heck, when my buddy Galahad went to Japan I begged him to locate a vending machine and buy me a pair of school girl panties, just so I could say that I had a pair of authentic Asian schoolgirl panties bought from a subway vending machine)

Why should my sweat soaked shirt be any different? I mean heck, if she wants to spend her money like this so she can indulge her fantasies who am I say no.

What say you?

No Kato! Not tonight!
Originally uploaded by Mr Monk

Remember the old Pink Panther movies when Inspector Clouseau would return home from a long day of sleauthing and his house boy, Kato, would spring from the closet and try to kill him in some comical way? Yeah, I just had one of those moments. This would be Tambo's halloween costume (for work no less). The funny thing is that when she is prancing around in it, all I want to do is kick her right in her (ninja) junk. (I mean who would not want to nut shot a ninja?)

My wife is the most awesomely sexy geek on earth. She constantly makes me laugh with sureal delight. I love her so.

Wednesday quickie

We listen to a lot of music at the Abbey, each member of the crew brings a different musical influence that makes for a very eclectic soundtrack. Nerdy does her best to keep the musical peace by letting the crew take turns picking the next CD in the mix and happily letting them hijack the sound system with their ipods.
Yesterday we listened to the following CDs…
Chicago, the movie soundtrack
The Bee Gees, best of
Less Than Jake,”Greased”
Red Neck Girlfriend,
The Misfits, Best of
Metalocalypse:Dethklok, “The Dethalbum”
Flogging Molly, “Drunken Lullabies”
The Killers, “Hot Fuss”
Kings of Leon, “Because of the Times”
Between the Buried and Me, “Colors”

On Thursdays we all agree on a theme and do our best to torture the others with our musical choices. Last week it was “Best Guilty Pleasure CD”, This week… “Best CD To Get Blindingly Drunk To”

The Quest of the Green Apron

The world looks mighty different at 3 am, especially when you are standing on the roof of a warehouse half naked. Well I wasn’t, naked that is, but any of the drivers who happened to be traveling the sparsely populated overpass that surrounds the Abbey would have been treated to the sight of a fiery redhead cooling her well beaten breasts in the night air. Rubbing them gently in the cool night air and making little faces of happy dismay at the state of her once perfect milk white skin, now ablaze with red rope stripes and all manner of Technicolor bruises, she says to me.
“Quite a life you have made for yourself here, Monk”
“Eh, sure beats working at Starbucks and wearing one of those green aprons”, I laugh back.
“You always make that joke. Maybe you should get one of those aprons for yourself?”
“What, like add part time barista to my already long list of job titles? No thanks”
“No, just the apron. The one you use in your shop is disgusting!”

She had me there, my tried and true dye job apron, having taken the abuse of 4 years of slashing kettles, has long since lost any claim to even be considered “fabric”. In fact it lacks its ability to bend in half and now sits propped up in a corner like the loneliest piece of modern denim art ever conceived.

She has a great point, I always make the joke that if it were not for all you wonderful customers I’d probably be pulling double shots somewhere and that the world is a much better place for it. Come on, can you see me trying to up-sell you on a caramel macchiato? Now that, dear readers, is a scary mental image.

However, me in one of those killer green aprons (complete with logo) cooking up bondage rope is just too cool for words.

And so I put it to you, anyone out there happen to have one of these gems laying about that they wish to donate to a very good cause? I’ll go so far as to up the ante even. Every summer I make the joke about it being so hot that I’ll soon be working in nothing but an apron and boots. Every time I do, you always ask for photos.

Whoever scores me the apron gets the photo. Deal?


In other Abbey related requests. I’d kill for a set of old school lockers. Not a whole wall of them, just like 4 full size or 6 half size ones so that the crew can store their gear and such. I don’t want to spend a ton on this one so any used / salvage leads would be welcome.

Itch

You have one new message: “When can I see you, soon?”

I don’t hear from her often, maybe once every couple of months but the message is always the same. A single line sent from her blackberry or other such thing. Her job as a VP at a large and well known software company keeps her busy, probably a little too. When the stress of being the queen bitch, in charge of keeping the product on time and on budget gets too much, that is when she contacts me. No longer in charge of millions of dollars and millions of lines of code she seeks me out so she can let go, have her power ripped from her and made to grovel. We have a simple agreement. She contacts me when it gets too much, when she needs her fix as it were. With me she is free to wallow in her lust and unspoken desires, to be degraded and defiled at my hand.

“Hey, this is way more therapeutic than going to a spa!” was her rational at first. Now, now I think she is addicted, addicted to the release. Letting go of the deadlines and expectations and being nothing more than meat for another’s perverse pleasure.

Like always she arrives at my door by cab, usually dressed in a long coat that probably cost more than most of my crew will make in a day. Rain or shine, always the same coat. Why? She is naked underneath. She likes it when I make her show up like so. Naked save her boots and stockings. Now can I just pause here for a moment and tell you what a glorious sight it is, stockings (complete with garters, tucked into tall boots) If you don’t believe me, check out the new resident evil movie and tell me that is not the hottest look ever. But I digress. I causally lean against the door posts and watch as she exits the cab. After a few minutes of catch up I ask her to tell me why she came to see me today.

“I need to be used and abused. Hang me from that pipe in your office and put something steel inside me. Make me feel like a piece of meat”

With that I usher her into my loft and she assumes her place. Kneeling palms down, face on the floor and ass raised high. Vulgar names menacingly drip off my tongue as I circle her form. I make obscene threats as to what I intend to do with her willing flesh and inform her just how much I am going to enjoy doing it. She giggles with nervous glee. When I threaten to invite over a batch of longshoremen from next door to all take turns on her, an idle threat we both know, but one that makes her body clinch and shiver with excitement. I’m fairly certain that someday she may ask me to make that one come true. Alas not just yet, no for now her body is mine and I’m going to make good use of it.

Pausing as I circle to admire the curve of her upturned ass, I kneel down beside her. Boot resting between her legs, I whisper in her ear just what I intend to do with said pink parts. These, these are not idle threats. Before she is untied, her body will not only accept my massive hands inside her, but also the extra large steel ass hook she commissioned. How an ass so pert and perfect can greedily accept such things and ask for more is beyond me. Some things are best left not known and enjoyed I guess.

When we are done she will be filthy. Grinning madly as she is covered in a mix of her own sweat, hemp dust and abbey filth from her adventure.. We sip whiskey; she has excellent taste in the stuff and always makes a point to bring me a fresh bottle, as she tells me about her travels and such. Eventually she will stop shaking enough to hail a cab and return to her world. I kiss her on the forehead and swat her bruised ass as she gaily skips to the cab, a wicked smile on her face and a renewed shine in her eyes.

Tomorrow I will get another text message, this time more than just one line.
“In a meeting with (name of well known multi millionaire software giant) product is late and I should be screaming at someone, but could care less. Ciao”

She always says “ciao”, never “goodbye”.

Things they don’t tell you when you become poly, #9

This one is just for the men in the room.

Guys, you know that fantastic feeling of helplessness you get when the woman you love is being tormented by Mother Nature? You watch impotently as they battle migraines, mood swings and all manner of hormonally fueled discomfort. You try in vain to help make their fight easier, but in the end they still suffer. You do your best to give aid where you can, choose your words carefully for fear that what may have made her laugh yesterday will send her into tears today, and you offer anything, just shy of letting them slug you, to help. You know it is not their fault; they are not being malicious or doing it on purpose, call it the “tyranny of biology” or just chalk it up to the way life works. Sure it will go away eventually, but what caring partner wants to see a love suffer so for even a few minutes? Funny, you would think that after being married to the same woman for naerly 20 years I would know how to handle such things better, but I still hate it. I just hate that feeling of helplessness.

Guess what, having multiple committed relationships means that you get to multiply that sweet feeling of frustrated impotence.

Working on a late fall afteroon

Working on a late fall afteroon
Originally uploaded by Mr Monk

The remains of a sweet two color twist rope we made for some awesome customers who are getting hand-fasted today.

Euro Humor

Every morning, when I want to check on the events of the world, I first go to CNN to see what the locals are saying about the state of things. Then I surf over to the BBC News site to see what the outlook on the other side of the pond is like, lastly I scan the english version of Al-Jazeera to hear what the other side might have to say. Having a degree in Rhetoric and Propaganda, I'm pretty hip to the idea that all news is bias in some form or another. I figure that between these three divergent viewpoints, the real story should lie somewhere in the middle.

I must admit that I have a soft spot for the BBC. Maybe it was the influence of all the British comedies, re-broadcast on public television here in the US when I was a kid, but I enjoy their (albeit slightly northern euro centric) view of current events. Anyways, recently I found a piece about how the churches in Belgium were all atwitter about a recent TV add for a new station that featured a party hearty Jesus hitting a local disco.




Me? I think it is pretty damned funny. Then again I sort of have a thing for irreverent humor. Happy Friday folks, remember laughter is healthy.

Stupid Monk Fact #135

Whenever Tambo wants to torment me and get a song stuck in my head what does she sing? “Jessie’s Girl” by Rick Springfield. All it takes is the first few bars and I, like Cartman and Styx’s “Come Sail Away”, am violently compelled to keep singing. Why? I have no earthly clue, I blame it all on a girl that I had a crush on in the 7th grade. She was obsessed with Rick Springfield. I see that he is touring at the local Indian casino, what is with those places anyways? Any week out of the year you are pretty much guaranteed to catch some fading rock star trying to milk the last bit of money from their failed careers, call it “Catch a falling star” tour perhaps?

Could be worse, I’ve been threatening everyone I know that I’m going to take them to see Kid Rock when he comes to town next month. What can I say? His new single makes me want to have sweaty sex, preferably in the back alley of a seedy bar.

Capitan Saftey Says

Capitan Saftey Says
Originally uploaded by Mr Monk

Never stop on rail road crossings!
This happened just outside the abbey. A semi chose the wrong spot to try and rush past the train signal. Nobody was hurt, but damn if it was not loud. We watched it happen. Freaky.

It’s time for another episode of everyone’s favorite blog post…
Leave a funny comment, win a prize!


Enjoy! Me? I've got like 3 dye jobs to get done today and damn if a meatloaf sandwich from my favorite lunch joint does not sound good on a drab day like today.

Cocktease

Saturday afternoon, Starbucks just off Castro Street, or as the locals call this coffee house in the heart of this epicenter of the SF gay scene, “Starbears”. Folsom weekend is in full swing and the place is packed as Alex and I weave our way through the throngs of men sipping their coffee. As we wait for our fix to be delivered by our green aproned caffeine pusher I cant help but feel the like I’m being watched. Sure the place is packed and we exchange smiles and nods with the other patrons, no this is different. The eyes of an unseen watcher bore into my back, making the little hairs on the back of my neck stand. Casually as possible I make a visual sweep of the place trying to spot the source. Shifting through the crowd I spot him, a young lad just off to my left. Bespeckled eyes stare at me from above a laptop where he was probably working on some college related thing. He has that look, young and earnest. The wire rim glasses and beard make me think post grad student probably? Something involving literature written by dead Russians or an esoteric element of language.

Getting ogled by men no longer fazes me; I mentally shrug my shoulders in a “just another day in the life…” sorta way and make for the door, watched ever intently. Just outside Alex announces that he needs to use the facilities. As he plunges back into the crowed shop I find an open chair on the sidewalk and enjoy the fleeting remains of the gloriously sunny afternoon. No sooner am I seated than the watcher makes his move. Approaching with caution he closes in to make his pitch, “Um, hi. I see you are with your boy and all, but I saw that you were flagging green* and just had to tell you that I think you are really hot.”

No matter what your orientation, it is always flattering and sweet when someone says they find you attractive. While I’m not about to take this kid up in his offer, I do my best to graciously thank him while offering him a minimum of openings for further advances. Alex returns just as he nervously nods his goodbyes and parts with, “maybe I’ll see you at the fair tomorrow?”

Alex greets me with a raised eyebrow and a look of, “I can’t leave you alone for 5 minutes in this town”

Fast forward to Sunday, Folsom Street. Tens of thousands of leather men, perverts and gawkers descend upon 6 blocks of downtown SF. In this shoulder to shoulder throng of bodies who should make a beeline to us? Yep you guessed it. (How he found us amongst the masses is beyond me, Alex argues that boys hunt by smell. I kept looking to see if he somehow placed a homing beacon on me when I was not looking) There standing before Alex and I was my star struck admirer, dressed in a hot pink camisole and boots no less. If I swung this particular direction this display of interest would endearing and sweet, however Monk’s “good idea meter” (that would be my cock, for those of you playing along at home) just does not respond to this particular form of attention. Alas, no dice young fan, still I’m not about to be an ass to this man’s misdirected affection. Nah, he has not crossed any boundaries and been very respectful, so I see no harm in stopping to chat and exchange pleasantries. We chat for a few and then with a pat on his curly head I send him on his way, pink camisole soon engulfed in the sea of leather and flesh.

Chuckling, I pull a cigar from my vest pocket and give it a light.
Again, Alex gives me that raised brow look and says, “Daddy, you are SUCH a cocktease”

* Alex and I have patterned our relationship after Daddy/boy dynamic. When in public together we often flag hunter green hankies to denote this.

From today's To Do list:

#9 Get new orders to Nerdy. (done)
#10 Reassure her that we can fill all of them with out having to work 24 shifts. (on going)
#11 Finish 2 color custom spun job. (done, awesome)
#12 Post Office (closed?! WTF)
#13 Bank (again closed?)
#14 ....

What, you say it is a holiday today? Columbus Day huh? I had no idea, first law of self employment. Holidays are the things that other people do. Besides, does anyone besides the banks and post office get this day off or was it just designed to annoy the rest of us who have to get shit done on a Monday. Grr.

Why work on a Sunday?



Ever wonder why folks love rope? Just take a look at the smile on elf's face and see for yourself. How can you not want to put in an extra couple of hours in order to make sure that nice folks like these can get thier rope on?

A Saturday Morning Funny

I hated the movie Hot Rod, but damn if SNL's Andy Samberg can't make great musical comedy. Enjoy.



In other news, I just gotta pause for a moment say that I love my life. I am, quite possibly, the luckiest SOB in history.

How much would you pay?

I need your help again folks, as we continue to draw up the holiday plans here at the Abbey the topic of gift wrapping came up. What we can’t quite figure out is just what kind of gift wrap you, the customer, wants. My general idea is to offer a complete gift service where we will box and wrap your gift, generate a custom card and send the invoice to a separate address.

The question is this, do you want it wrapped so it looks just like any other gift sitting under the tree? This does open the risk that said wrapped gift might be confused with that one from aunt Mildred and on Christmas morning, hilarity ensues. In the past we have offered a more stylistic wrapping, using Kraft paper boxes, jute twine and wax to seal the package. Very cool looking, but a bit more conspicuous. Then there is the option of just being conspicuous and slapping a big old Abigail on the front of the box so your intended recipient knows you loved them enough to get the very best.

What say you?



And since we are doing this to make a profit, what would you think is fair to charge?


Thanks gang! Your feedback is so valuable. Based on what you told me about the holiday gift package, we have something really amazing in the works.

A tale of two Ks

I was having a conversation the other day, talking about play and how folks define their boundaries. Seems my companion just could not wrap their head around the idea that you can do SM with out having sex or that “sex” could be defined as something other than what we generally think of it to be (His tab a, inserted into her slots a, b, or if c) Hard pressed to give a good answer, instead I told him about two lovely women that I used to play with at the same time (not together) Both were very similar in age, education and both in similar long term relationships.

The first K, or K1 I guess, wanted what her partner was not yet ready to deliver. The urge to explore SM is hard for some partners to grasp and hers was not yet ready to take the plunge. However he was ok with her exploring it, with in limits of course. Genital intercourse was to be off the menu; however anything else I was inclined to violate her with was open for discussion. Having a particular fetish for my growing collection devious steel objects, she was more than interested in seeing just what response they would procure from her bound form. While her pink bits were all but a veritable playground for my devious brain, kissing was flat out. To her, kissing was just too intimate. Something she reserved for only her husband, a hard limit not to be crossed.

Contrast this with my other playmate K2. Recently married, she and her partner were still working out the ins and outs of their poly and how it would work involving play with other men. However she was not about to turn down a chance to get bound and generally abused by yours truly. So like any good poly couple they came to some agreements and trusted each other. Again, sex was a no go. Not to worry, I was quite happy for the chance to play with said cutie and wanted above all else to respect her commitments, the fact that her new husband trusted me to honor said limits was a thing I did not wish to take lightly. Aside from the passing of rope between her supple thighs, that region was pretty much off limits. Again, not to worry, I’m a creative top and know many a way to deliver a memorable experience that do not require my interacting directly with her genitals. Now In contrast to K1, she all but demanded to be kissed when we played. For her, kissing creates focus, bringing her into the moment and allowing her to process more intense sensations than she might normally be able to.

Both women turned out to be fantastic play partners and we have many fond memories of our scenes together. I guess the point I was trying to make to my companion with the tale was that boundaries can vary from person to person and there really isn’t a wrong answer. They are yours and whatever you define them to be is just fine. The goal is to clearly define what yours are before you engage in play with someone. Conversely, as a top you are required to ask, get specific, about said boundaries and not to see them as limits, but rather as the framework that you will use to build your scene.

Folsom St. isn’t that big after all.

Arrive early enough and you can walk the fair in comfort. Easily perusing the wares with out the constant press and jostle of the larger (and substantially drunker) crowds that seem to plague the event near it’s final hours. Seemed like we could not go about half a block with out someone calling out “Hey Monk!” and catching our attention. Many hugs and hellos were to be had with folks I have not seen in years, as well as a ton of folks from home. This year everyone from Seattle seemed to make the trek down to the event.

Near the end of the day, just after I had finished doing a bit of street bondage on a charismatic little cutie, a voice from the past called out my name. Now I must confess that I suck at recalling names. The voice was attached to a face that the last time I saw, she was half naked tied to a pole watching Matisse and I torment her teddy bear.

Who remembers “The Weakest Kink”?, a gag MM and I did like… 3 maybe 4 years ago? We were both going to a leather event and made up a contest to find someone to bottom to us. We had 4 willing contestants and every week we would issue challenges and vote one out of the dungeon. Really fun stuff, well at least for us. Anyway, the winner was a total sweetheart of a girl named Krystal. She jumped through every wacky, kinky hoop our deviant brains could devise and came out on top. While at the event, she decided to dress the “little schoolgirl” fetish, you know plaid skirts and pig tails, and sport a teddy bear. For whatever reason, we pounced on said bear and did all manner of terrible things to it while this poor girl was tied up and bottoming to us.

Fast forward 4 year. Here she is, just as pretty (if not more actually) and smiling that same smile that made us just want to rip into her sweet flesh like a couple of jackals. In her hands, yep the teddy bear. Did I mention that the bear was still tied up in the same rope? Seems the bear came all the way to Folsom in hopes of seeing us and wanted to kiss my new boots.


I was happy to oblige what had to be the most hard core bondage bear ever. 4 years in the same hogtie and no complaints? Wow, that is one serious rope slut.

In all seriousness, it is pretty fucking amazing and humbling to me that someone would hang onto a souvenir like this. That bottoming to us was such a memorable experience that they would seek us out 4 years later to not only say thank you but also show off said souvenir. I suppose I could should be jaded and cynical by now, after all the stuff that has transpired in the years since I started this whole rope adventure, but when presented with stuff like this, all I seem to be able to do is sorta blush and keep saying, “damn, that is so cool! Thank you!”

Back home in (mostly) one piece.

Back in the Abbey today after my lost weekend in SF. Folsom was a hoot, but I will admit that for me being a tourist fell a bit short for me. I much prefer the role of showman to spectator at such events. Next year, we shall have to do something substantal about.

Right now I return to my shop with way more work than I know where to begin with. nerdy has a list of things she needs to cover with me that I fear may be taller than she is. All the stock we made before I left is gone, shipped out the door to happy perverts, and the order queue swells yet again to a new all time high.

No rest for the wicked.

PS Oh yeah, you wanted to see what I was wearing? Here is a shot. Matisse has a closeup here.
PSS, anyone get a shot of me tying at the SocalKink.Com booth?

Help, I've fallen and can't get my coffee!

Help, I've fallen and can't get my coffee!
Originally uploaded by Mr Monk

You know it has been a good weekend when you are too wiped out to even reach your coffee.