Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Tonight, Live from Seattle its Monk!

How cool is this? I get to tie up some beautiful girl on TV tonight! That’s right, as part of my interview on Sex Life Live, I’ll be doing a rope demo. The question is who to tie up? In the segment we are planning on finding a “random” member of the audience for the demo. So why not stack the deck a bit?

Come down tonight to the ReBar and say hi. I’ll be there, as well as Mistress Matisse and several other local kinksters of note. Show taping starts at 8pm.

Now to find some shiny trousers and polish up my boots….

Monday, November 29, 2004

Oh I wish I had an Oscar Meyer wiener…

I used to teach an erotic photography class to swingers. You see, swingers love to take nude photos of themselves. The only problem is that most of these shots suck. Not even good amateur porn here, just plain old bad. As part of the course, after teaching them the basics of composition and how to properly light a woman so she actually looks like someone you would want to fuck, I always used this line when talking about shooing photos of men.

“Now boys, there are more than enough photos of men’s cocks out there. Unless you have something REALLY creative to offer, like dressing it up in a sombrero or a tiny saddle, don’t bother. The cock quota has been filled.”

Recently, while flirting with the quite yummy Ms Woo, I found myself re-telling this story. She erupted in laughter upon hearing this and issued me this challenge. “You know what, my website gets bombarded with photos of guys sending me photos of their cock. So many that we decided to hold a ‘show Ms. Woo you cock’ contest. If you send me a photo like that, I guarantee you will win”

Now how can I pass up an offer like that? The only real issue I could see was where to find a tiny sombrero? Enter the amazing Tambo. No sooner had I said this quandary out loud and she is on e-bay asking me questions like “Can I also buy you a mini guitar for the shot?” She may call herself an “enabler”, but I call her an evil genius. Once we had the needed prop, my next call was to Dancer. She’s an accomplished photographer and I want a pro for this kind of task. Proper lighting and angles and all that. Not to mention that upon hearing my idea she burst into laughter for 10 straight minutes. Upon regaining her composure she said, “Of all the lovers I have ever had, NONE have ever asked me to do this. Oh hell yeah!”

Now this would not be all just fun and games mind you. The company is soon to release a line of 4mm finished hemp. If you have read this blog much, you will know that I am firm beliver that every top needs to bottom and experience life at the receiving end of their chosen tools. My rope is no different. Before I can go out and tell a potential customer that this rope is in fact the greatest thing they will ever experience against their pink bits, I better be willing to put my own pink bits up to the test. Besides, I rather enjoy putting my pink bits to the test, if you will.

Props now secured and photo date set, now all I needed to worry about was if I would… shall we say rise to the occasion?

But what am I saying? You’re tired of me rambling on and want to see the photos. I should warn you, these are seriously NOT work safe. Oh no, that is unless your co workers are ok with gratuitous sombrero porn.

Now this posting is not just about me displaying my wedding tackle to the entire world, no there is more. You see, Dancer and I had so much fun with this idea that we have decided to launch a new art website devoted to it. We plan on calling it “welldressedwiener.com” and hope to feature a wide variety of creative cock shots. In addition we plan on offering downloadable backdrops that you can print out and use for your very own cock photo. Why there is even talk of making downloadable costumes, muck like the paper dolls of old.

Yes, we know that the cock photo will never truly go away. But at least this way we can do our part to help bring a bit of fun back into penis photography.

Oh you’re still reading? What’s that? I have yet to post the link to the actual photos?

The Cock Rope Corset (really not work safe at all)
The Mariachi Cock (oh this one is just plain wrong)

Now go do me a favor and e-mail Ms. Woo and tell her to pick my shot as the winning wiener and that she should then go out with me for strong drinks and some serious flirtation.

Sunday, November 28, 2004

Discovering her desire.

I love the sent of a new lover, like a shark smelling blood in the water; I’m uncontrollably drawn to the musk of woman eager to share her sex with me. It is the thrill of discovery that tugs so hard upon my lust. A new lover is like a grand undiscovered treasure, just waiting to be unwrapped and explored. When she is laid bare beneath me, stripped of all the pretenses and trappings of courtship, that moment dear readers is an intoxicating moment of discovery.

Sadly, subsequent couplings are never quite as satisfying as that first mad rush of lust and curiosity. Unchallenged, I quickly grow bored. It’s not that she is a bad lover, per se, or that she is now somehow beneath me and not worthy of my attention. No, not in the least. Sure I have had my share of bad lays, but rather it is more that she holds no new mysteries for me. Like a kid with ADD, raised on too much MTV and pop tarts, I find myself sniffing the air in search of the scent of my next conquest.

Then there are those rare lovers who, upon subsequent couplings, I find myself longing for the next opportunity to explore them. Rather than growing bored, my desire grows. Some of their mysteries have been reveled, only to give me glance at further deeper ones. Like an explorer looking out upon the vast open plains of her sex, there in the distance I can see heights of pleasure and lust that seem *just* out of my reach. I know that if I stretch my being and reach out farther than I have before, I might touch upon them.

A lover who challenges me is a rare and wondrous thing.

Friday, November 26, 2004

The Briefest of Updates.

Pardon me while I dash about the place getting ready for tonight. The backlog of orders is almost done. Another couple late nights and we will have them all filled. Thank you everyone for your patience; expect a package from the Monk late next week. As for the rest of you, if you are planning on ordering rope for Christmas presents… get your orders in now.

Now pardon me while I rush back out to the shop and pull a batch of black off the burners, check on my new top secret color and then get ready for my date with Dancer. What’s that you ask? Why yes, a date with Dancer, involving some experimental new rope, a miniature sombrero, and the soundtrack to “Purple Rain”.

If you all behave and eat your vegetables we might show you some photos of the event.

Thursday, November 25, 2004

I am terrified of candied yams.

You see, I’m convinced that they give off some form of radiation that makes family members act like guests on Jerry Springer. Don’t believe me? Well then see for yourself this Thanksgiving and tell me if I am lying. Most families have stresses and drama, but put them all around a table on Thanksgiving and as soon as you put the yams on the table, boom! They get strange. Your mom starts asking you about your sex life while your dad wonders when you are going to “get a real job”. All the while, your uncle Bert is telling bad knock-knock jokes to the kids while eyeing young cousin Timmy and Aunt Penny just polished off an entire bottle of bourbon and will soon do a face plant in the mashed potatoes.

I tell you, it’s the yams….

So today, as you eye your yams with suspicion, someone will invariably ask. “So, what are you thankful for today?”

Now I’m pretty sure we all know the pat answers to this one. Yes, life, liberty, health, freedom, and genital endowment are all perfectly acceptable answers to give in this situation. Ok, maybe not the last one. But let’s be really honest here and ask ourselves, “What am I really thankful for but am not about to tell my family while in the presence of the yams?”

Me? I’m thankful for having lovers who regularly and profoundly fuck my
brains out. I’m thankful for the proliferation of cheap bandwidth and ease
of access to pornography online. I’m thankful that nobody has attempted an
intervention for my crippling sushi addiction. Or for my caffeine addiction
either. I’m thankful for having partners who think that “drama” is a genre
of theater and has no place in a relationship. I’m thankful for thick,
warm socks. I’m thankful for all the perverts in the world who like to tie
each other up. I’m thankful that you all keep coming back day after

But mostly I’m thankful for the socks.

Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Another crazy ass busy day here at the shop. I fear that as we get closer and closer to Christmas it will only get worse. Right now I am really looking forward to December 25th so I can take the day off. Till then, it’s going to be a lot more long days and later nights.

So I’m in the process of growing back my beard after shaving it for Dancer’s birthday (Oh and thanks for all the cool comments on that) and got to thinking about changing one’s appearance. I have worn some kind of facial hair for the past 10 plus years, so needless to say my chin has not seen the stark light of day in a long time. I was quite shocked to see that thanks in part to all the weight I have lost, I actually *have* a chin. Funny that, last time I saw it, it was hidden under a layer of dot com fat.

The lame part is that even with all the lost weight, I still have this slight pudge under my chin. A wee waddle if you will, something genetic I fear. All the men in my family have one. My personal vanity wants me to go have it removed, that there are ways to deal with this problem. My realistic side wants to clobber my vanity and tell it to shut it’s damn mouth.

So the question I pose to you all is this. We all must have some small thing about our bodies that we do not like. No, that extra 10 pounds does not count! You can work that off. Something that will take more than a good diet to change. If you could change only one small thing about your body, what would it be?

Oh and penis enlargement does not count.

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Some guys like to shoot hoops

Not anyone I know, mind you, but there must be some guys out there who like that sort of thing. Me? Me and my friends like to swing swords at each other. Now I always tell folks when they ask me about my sword fighting gig, “No I am NOT an SCA fighter. I’m an actor” This means that most of what I do with a sword is choreographed, much like dancing. I do not set about to hurt my partner with a sword. There is a variant of what we do called “free form” this is un choreographed sword work, improv if you will. While we are limited by the types and numbers of blows we can throw, there is no pre-planned chorography. The potential for injury and stitches is very high. This form of sword play requires huge amounts of training and trust among fight partners to do properly and safely. Move wrong, mis read a cue from your partner, or just not respond in time and it is going to suck to be you. Conversly, done well with a fight partner you trust and it is way too much fun.

The other day at practice, after all the armor was put away and students safely shuffled off the practice court, Galahad and I took to doing a bit of high speed free form. More about blowing off stress than writing a show stopping bit of choreography, we took to dueling with our wooden kendo swords. Kendo sticks allow us to strike faster and not worry so much about some of the details but rather focus our energies on working fast and moving faster. We were soon joined by a fellow swordsman, Jester. He, well he is what you might call a killing machine. This guy is fast, amazingly fast. The really amazing thing is that even with his deadly speed, and he is probably the safest person to work with. Tambo took some footage of Galahad and me taking on Jester in 2 on 1 freeform. Note how we get our asses handed to us to wear like hats.

Yes, at one point there I am trying to use Galahad as a human shield.

It goes with out saying, don’t try this at home kids, we are trained professionals.

Sunday, November 21, 2004

Damn, even my cat is a rope slut.

Saturday, November 20, 2004

I'm just a...

There are certain things you think about when your face is planted between the open thighs of a lover, last night as I hungrily bit and kissed Dancer’s firm thighs I found myself thinking. “Oh crap! I’m so ruining my eye make-up! Tambo worked so hard on that too!” Of course by this time it was really too late. The damage had been done, my fishnet stockings torn. Dancer and I were well beyond caring about anything beyond the other’s impending orgasm.

Perhaps I should back up a bit, no?

Dancer’s place in my world and my heart is a unique one. I dare say that I would move heaven and earth just to see her smile. Her upcoming birthday presented an opportunity to do just that. I wanted to give her something good. More than just an item from a store, I wanted to give her an experience. Something memorable. Something sexy. Something, as we jokingly call it, to “blog home about”.

Now I had an idea, a thought of something that might be just that thing.

As with most of my antics, my first stop was to discuss it with Tambo.
“So um honey, I have an idea for what I want to do for Dancer’s birthday”
“I want to dress in full Rocky Horror Picture Show drag and serenade her as Dr. Frankenfurter”
What she did next I believe will firmly cement her place in history as the greatest, most supportive poly partner ever.
“Cool! Can I do your makeup?”
Next thing I know, she is on google pulling up a half dozen different costume ideas and asking me questions like,
“Do you want to do the dinner scene Frank or the Time Warp scene Frank?”
“Pearls, we will need to find some pearls…”
“And where the hell will you get the shoes?!”

Good question. So how does a 6 foot, 215 pound boy transform himself in to the sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania? Why with a little help from my delightfully devious friend Sunday at Salon De Sade. She did not even bat and eye when I told her I needed a corset to fit my wide boy hips and pair of 6 inch platform heels in men’s size 12.

Costume secured, makeup planned, and date set I was now committed.

To pull this off, I would need to fully embrace the “Go Big or Go Home” mindset. For the next few weeks I practiced walking and dancing in heels. Funny how wearing a suit of armor helps prepare you for that sort of thing. Of course Galahad firmly disagrees with me on this and says that I just have a natural talent for it. The unbelievably supportive Tambo drug me from one makeup counter to the next, sitting me under the lights and testing out foundations till she found the perfect shade of 1974 baby blue eye shadow. Having seen Rocky Horror something like 100 plus times, I already knew every word of it by heart. However for the week before the big day I listened to the soundtrack non-stop till I could practically match Tim Curry’s breathing while he sang.

When the fateful night did finally come, all Dancer knew was that she was to be sitting on her couch at the desired hour, ready for anything.

My house, the other hand, was a flurry of activity. As Tambo calmly applied the eye makeup, placing a reassuring hand on my knee to keep me from my nervous fidgeting, Galahad loaded my car with the tools of the evening. Spare clothes, boom box pre loaded with my song, makeup remover, and the enormous bundle of roses I would be giving her as well. Was I nervous? Nervous would be an understatement.

Corset laced, lips appropriately luscious, and fishnets donned my transformation was now complete. I was him, strutting across my living room; my shoulders took on that sexy roll that only man in platform heels can muster. I smoldered and damn did my legs look good in stockings! Wrapped in my long cloak as I drove to Dancer’s home I’m sure I drew more than a few disbelieving stares, but who cares when you look this good.

Walking up to her door, I placed the tiny box containing a blindfold on her doorstep and then slunk back into the shadows as I placed a call to her cel.

“Go to the front door, open it and take the box. Leave the door unlocked…good now open the box… sit down and put it on…”

When we finally fell to the floor in sweat covered exhaustion, my make-up was all but destroyed. I looked a bit like Tammy Fay Baker after a hard night of drinking. Dancer, limbs and torso covered in smears of pancake makeup, looked as if she had been sexually assaulted by a mime.

Happy Birthday Dancer

Friday, November 19, 2004

Last night, err I mean this morning, as I crawled into bed after my date with Dancer, the Tambo stirred and asked me.
“So, how did Dancer like your birthday present?”
“Um… its like 5 in the morning, that should tell you something.”
“Ohhhh… good point, come to bed. You can tell me the details later”

I’d love to tell you that I slept late today, lounged in my silk robe while working on the perfect prose to tell you the tale, but there is no rest for the wicked. And what we did last night was *quite* wicked. So, I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now, thousands of feet of rope cry out for my attention as well as medical stuff for dad and coffee, lots of coffee. Possibly a complete blood transfusion too.

Till then, ask yourself this.
How far would you go to fulfill a lover’s fantasy.

Thursday, November 18, 2004


While helping me assemble the final components for Dancer’s upcoming birthday, oh man will we have a story to tell you, Galahad made this comment about yesterday’s post.

“What if you want to go to a swing club with your girlfriend, and not fuck other people?"
“Just go for the experience of going and not swap partners, you mean?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Of course! Lots of couples do that. Tambo and I used to do that all the time. Makes for a great date really, you get to hang out with lots of sex positive people, go dancing, swim naked, and have all sorts of fun new places to play.”

As I see it, there are basically three types of swinger couples.

First off would be your "dater" couples. They arrive together, they dance together, and they fuck together. The swing club is just a different venue for the two of them to be together. Perhaps they are really new to the scene and just want to check it out, or maybe there are kids at home or perhaps they just get turned on by being around lots and lots of horny people all getting naked and getting off. Either way, the only pants they are interested in getting into would be each other’s.

Next would be your “hook-up” couples. These are couples who, while staying together as a couple, are looking for another couple to fuck. They have a pool of other couples they know and trust whom they will, if the opportunity presents its’ self, play with. Or they will be on the look out to add to this pool. Normally all the leg work is done by the female of the couple while the men sort of sit back and smile that bemused “I’m going to get me some new pussy” smile. I’d say that this group makes up the majority of swingers.

And finally, there are the “splitters”. These are folks who come in together only to go their separate ways to seek their sexual fortunes. During the course of the evening they might re-connect, compare notes and then move on. I’d say that this group is the rarest. Aside from the cruiser couples, they are usually a pair of long term swingers who are very comfortable with what is going on and jealousy is really not an issue.

Keep in mind that these categories are not set in stone. They are not castes that, once you pick one, you can never be anything else. We have gone to the club, fully intent on hooking up with folks, only to find that I'm having more fun laying naked with my Tambo, curled up in a corner listening to the sounds of a hundred people all having orgasms in the next room. Other times things happen and the next thing you know you are the main course in a naked puppy pile involving 5 girls, a lawn chair, 3 milk bottles and a tuning fork.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Swing, Swing

So, you’re a single horny guy and want to check out one of these swing clubs I keep talking about? I can see why, an event where 200-400 people show up with the intent of removing their clothes and fucking like it was the end of the world does sound pretty appealing. Long before I became the raging kinkster I am today I spent a lot of time enjoying the pleasures of the swinger world.

There is of course a slight problem. Most swinger events and clubs are “couples only”. Meaning that you need a female to get in the door. Granted, what you do when you get there is up to you, but they expect you to walk in the door with a member of the opposite sex on your arm. Of course there are some events and venues that do not have this restriction. Be warned however, you and 900 of your closest male friends will all be there in hopes of scoring the very limited supply of willing females. Now some girls I know would call this “a target rich environment”, we on the other hand call this a “sausage festival”.

So basically you need a set of boobs to get past the gate keepers and into the golden palace of hedonism. Don’t have a willing partner? Then here is what you do.

1) Hire an Escort.
Lots of boys have done this. Hire some nice sex worker to be your “partner” for the night. While the most direct of solutions, this is not with out it’s problems. First off, everyone knows. They are going to look at you and look at her, do the math and proceed to ignore you for the rest of the night. Besides, this gal is probably charging you like what? 250 bucks an hour for her time. Most parties last 4-8 hours. That is a ton of cash you are shelling out, pal. If your intent is to have crazy monkey sex with a couple of honeys, hire two or three escorts! Still not convinced that this will be as good as the real thing? Hire some middle aged guys to hang out in Hawaiian shirts and crudely hit on the escorts while a bad cover band plays in the background. Trust me, you will have more fun and still have enough extra cash left over for a nice tip for the girls.

2) Date an unattached girl in the “lifestyle”.
The fabled “swingle” girl. Some say that she is a myth, a legend like Bigfoot. But yes, dear reader, she does in fact exist in several forms. The rarest of course is the elusive hot, MILF hard body swinger girl who loves to fuck and thinks that going to a swing club is like going to Disneyland with erections. Keep in mind that competition for her attention is fierce. Unless you have something really good to offer her, and I mean really good, forget about it. And no, your “great personality” just won’t cut it. The reality is more that your date will resemble one of your mom’s bridge club partners… only wearing a hot pink teddy and fuck me heels. Oh and yes, she will be expecting you to take her upstairs and deliver the mail, as it were.

3) Get a cruising partner.
Much like the fabled “single girl”, however this girl may enter the door with you but that is about all she will do with you. She is there for one thing, and it is not you. My cruising partner of choice was a fireball named “Danni” You see, she and I would attend the parties together as a couple, then once things got rolling we would split up and see who could score the most. Invariably she would always win, I think her tactic of pulling up her short skirt and wrapping her long tan legs around a boy and moaning in his ear was far more effective than anything I could come up with at the time. However I did beat her once when a group of 5 girls drug me off to be their human fucking machine… but that is a story for another day.

3) Find a girl online.
You can cruise the personals and other sites with the express intention of finding a willing girl to join you for a night of multi partner action. Lots of women are interested in this lifestyle and are looking for an experienced guide to show them around. I’ll admit to doing this myself. At the height of my very aggressive cruising days, I would bring a different gal every weekend to the club. My friends got so tired of trying to remember this new gal’s name, only to meet someone else the next week, they started labeling our reservations “Monk & FOTW”* (fuck of the week) This of course, is not with out its drawbacks. A swing club is not the best place for a first date. Also you should be very direct in expressing your intentions for the night. Will the two of you stay together as a solo couple or are you planning on inviting another couple to join you for sex? What you should never do is this, once you get through the door part ways and leave your date sitting there at the table alone and looking scared. While the cruising boys will enjoy the challenge, you are on a fast track to getting a reputation as a grade A looser.

But what about us girls, you ask? You want to come and play too? Most clubs encourage and even let in unescorted women in free of charge. Yes, a double standard exists here boys, get used to it. Or if you can’t get in free, I’m certain some nice and eager boy would be happy to be your date. He usually pays for everything, by the way.

Yep, that double standard thing again.

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

Damn, I love this job.

Monday, November 15, 2004

Wrapped Up In My Desire

After seeing the recent suspension photo of Tambo, a reader asked me this.

“Now I think I understand the artistic reasons and maybe the acrobatic ones…
a bit, but what I don’t understand is the physical why. Why do you like to
tie girls up?”

I probably could write a book on this, the reasons why I enjoy binding flesh are as diverse as the women I enjoy binding. Rather than try and explain all of them, let me share just one of the many with you.

I am a tactile person. I experience the world through my sense of touch. Give me a new object and I will turn it in my hands and feel it’s surface. Give me a supple woman’s torso and I’ll spend my time exploring the curves of it with my fingertips, reading her lines like a blind man reads Braille.

Now, when I bind I do more than just touch a lover with my hands.

It starts with the uncoiling of the ropes, as I run it through my hands I am not just feeling for burrs and stray objects, I’m also connecting with it. Feeling its unique texture and tuning in to it. Every rope has a feel, a texture, a ki if it were. In my hands, the length of golden hemp sings to me, it’s fibers worn soft by the skin of a dozen lovers. As I take that rope and place it upon her naked flesh I do more than just set it there. My hands encircle her torso as fingers feel along the lay of the rope for twists, making sure it sits perfect against her flesh. I take the slack up in my free hand and confidently tug it tight. I am now touching her with more than just my fingers. My hands may no longer be in contact with her skin, but she knows I am still there. The rope now is an extension of my sexuality, of my desire. With more passes across her boudy she is cocooned in my rope, unable to do anything but accept the desire, to relax into the binds and the inevitability of my want for her. I can bind her slowly and tenderly or quickly but in the end she is held fast by me.

Wrapped tight like a lovely Christmas present to me in rope…and oh what fun we will have unwrapping that.

Saturday, November 13, 2004

Well since you all so enjoyed the last one...

...here is another shot of my delightful Tambo's bottom from our recent suspension scene. That's right, two gratuitous ass shots in one week!

What can I say? I'm rather fond of that ass.

Friday, November 12, 2004

"So, Do Anything Fun Last Night?"

A few weeks back I posted a laundry list of things I wanted to accomplish before year’s end. Now one of those items was performing inversion suspension on my dearest Tambo. As you can see from the photo, last night we did just that.

I must say that of all the people I have bound, Tambo is still by far my absolute favorite. I love to feel my rope pass across her skin and hear her response to it. Our suspension scenes are filled with laugher and joy. What the photo does not show is the huge smile she has on her face at this moment. She is my sweetest dangle toy and I just love her for it.

Thanks honey.

So, let me see… I have done the inversion thing. Posed for a fetish shoot. New studio space is in the works... So what is next on the list. New tattoo or perfect my curry recipe I think?

Oh and please folks, get proper training from someone like Max before you attempt to do this.

Thursday, November 11, 2004

Previews of Coming Attractions

Busy, busy days here as we gear up for the holiday rush. Well to be honest, we have been going like mad since long before Folsom, the only way it could get any crazier around here is if we hired cross dressing dwarfs or something.

Now if you look to your right… no, no your OTHER right… you will see a listing of upcoming shows and events where the Monk will be doing his thing. So with out further ado *queue the big music*

Coming soon to a blog near you!!!

November 30th. Those perverts at Lustlab.com and Sex Talk Live want to interview me as part of their upcoming launch event and TV show.

December 5th Max is teaching another one of his fabulous bondage classes. This one will be on “Bits Bondage”. You know, dangly bits, pink bits and other assorted floppy bits. We will be introducing a new rope at this event. Perfect for this type of bondage.

December 11th Wetspot Vendor Fair and Cirque Du Noc. This event will mark the 1 year anniversary of Twistedmonk.Com and in Monk fashion we are gonna “Go Big or Go Home” So not only will be selling rope, shirts and introducing some new and frankly fucking awesome items. We are also sponsoring the evening’s event and fundraiser as our way of saying thank you to the local kink community.

Now there are others I did not list, like Dancer’s birthday and the outlandish present she is getting from me. (Note to self, call latex supplier and make sure that they have enough magenta on hand.) Monk’s students pick up steel swords next week and he has to teach them how to use them while not lopping of anything important. Oh and my personal favorite. Monk, now living on less than 5 hours a sleep a night, starts hallucinating and thinks he is Kaiser Wilhelm…monocle and all.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Just When You Thought It Could Not Get Any Weirder

This weekend at Midori’s rope dojo I met the ever sexy, Miss Woo. Web Mistress for smellyk.com So we got to joking about photography and bad internet porn and well, well she like talked me into entering their contest. Hey Mistress Matisse, you still have that cock corset you were telling me about?

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

A Question of Fetish

Dancer has this strange power over me. When I hold her naked body close to me, I am torn. Part of me wants nothing more than to cradle and caress her soft brow and plant kisses on her supple neck. While the other, more primal side, hungers to wrap her hair in my fist and pull her head to one side, exposing that same bare neck so that I can sink my teeth into her pale flesh.

Of course, she is really no help here due to the fact that she loves it when I do both.

And so the other night, after satiating our primal hunger, laying naked on the floor of her studio, we set about to indulge our tender sides. As fingers caressed sore muscles and kisses applied to fresh bite marks, our conversation turned to the topic of “Fetishes we have but are not really proud of”

“…so, what about you?” She asked after sharing something that quite frankly made all the blood in my body rush south.
“um.. aside from the lawn gnome thing?”
“No, threatening to have a lawn gnome as part of a scene does not count as a fetish.”
“really? Even if it is one of those one’s with the cool wheel barrows?”
“No, never ever.”
"But what if I just lined a bunch up like they were watching?"

So what makes a really good fetish anyways? Is it the extreme or sheer outrageous nature of the act that makes it good? Or could it be the deep seeded roots from which the fetish grew that makes it work? Or could it simply be that a good fetish is something that is simultaneously titillating and embarrassing to us? Something that makes our pink bits throb with anticipation yet we just seem to know that this is not right (for what ever reasons you choose, god/society/your parents/the laws of the land/ the laws of physics)

Honestly I think we all have something, something lurking there in our sexual psyche that we are afraid to admit really that it really gets us hot.

Now kinksters have a bit of an advantage here. For most kinky people, fetishes are not things that must be closeted and hidden from view. Rather a good fetish is something to be explored and mined for all sorts of play opportunities. I would argue that most kinky folks go about collecting new fetishes, always seeking out new and fun ways to get off while enjoying the taboo nature of it all.

Lord knows I do.

Some of my fetishes are long term, deep rooted things. While others are more of a fleeting curiosity, sort of “the fetish of the week” things. The point is that we all have them at some level and that as a kinksters embracing and exploring that fetish is part of the appeal of kink. As long as you are not endangering yourself or your partner and in the end still being a reasonable adult, go nuts! Throw open the doors of your perv closet and see what is inside.

The key here, start small. Don’t jump off the deep end, enjoy the unfolding process.

Let me give you a personal example. I’m a bit ashamed to admit it, but I really like bad homemade porn. You know those tacky Polaroid shots in motel rooms? My inner fine art photographer rails and screams at them. From a technical aspect they are crap, the models in them are… well less than spectacular, and the photographer’s obsession with a certain 3 square inches of female anatomy often borders on grotesque. I'm an accomplished photographic artist. My stuff has been shown in erotica shows across the country. Prints of my work sell well and hang in all sorts of places. Over the years I have even taught classes at swing clubs on how to take GOOD self nudes. I should turn my nose up at this substandard amature crap! Yet in the end, when surfing for porn, I always find myself drawn back to those shots with poor production values and less than perfect subjects.


I think a lot of it has to do with the honesty of the moment. Having shot still porn as well as professional porn videos I know how much “tweaking” of reality we do. When I snap a photo of a model, I know that I have already spent hours pre-setting all the lights and will spend more hours in Photoshop tuning and correcting the image till it is perfect. My model, while beautiful and talented, may be there just for the money or experience of posing for me. Contrast that with some anonymous couple shooting dirty photos of each other while they are off fucking while on holiday. Nobody is making any money here. (Well not from the images that is) They are not doing this for the sake of art. No, they are doing this because the act turns them on. The girl, or girls, are spreading their legs and smiling not because they are being paid to. No they are doing this because it makes them horny. It is that honesty, in a sea of fake tits and pre-fabricated passion, makes the images real for me. It is that reality that makes me hard.

Powerful stuff.

I once had a lover who embraced this fetish of mine. She would make it a point to take random snaps of herself and e-mail them to me. Simple things like a quick snap of skin taken on her camera phone from a public restroom to elaborate shots of her laying nude in front of a mirror.

In hindsight, I probably dated her for longer than I should… she was what you might call, “A fuck that turned into a lover”, but that is a story for another day. But I must say that I do miss getting those e-mail presents from her. They always made my day.

So, today’s homework! You remember last week when I asked you all to think about your fetishes? Now take a moment and pick a small one, a gateway fetish if you will, and write it down. First step to making it come true is to acknowledge it. You don’t need to share it here, but if you did that would be very cool.

Embrace your inner pervert, and then give him a good spanking!

Monday, November 08, 2004

Dun Got Me A Head Fulla Learn'n

Well we made it back in one piece from San Francisco. I just love that town! I’m already planning my next trip there, as well as a possible trip to NYC to work with some very cool folks I met at Midori’s Rope Dojo, but more on that when it develops. In fact I must say that I met loads of very cool people and saw tons of very familiar looking hemp in toy bags. I found myself asking random folks, “nice blue rope you have there…. Did… I make that?”

Oh and I did get to flirt a bit too with a very delightful lovely… more on that at another time.

I suppose I should talk about the dojo and what I learned while there. One would think that an intensive rope workshop, taught by THE grand dame of rope would be an event not to be missed. Well you are right. She is a fantastic teacher and really a hoot to be around. On the technical level I must say that I really did not learn much in the way of new ties and knots. Sure there were some cool tricks and shortcuts to be learned, but overall I consider myself to be a very competent rigger so most of the technical stuff was review.

However, the part that really engaged my mind was the mental and psychological aspects of being a good rope top. I’d like to refer to this as “the theater of bondage”. She spent probably more time working on getting us, the students, out of our cookie cutter, “seen it in a bondage photo” mindset and really looking at rope play differently. It is far too easy to fall into a formulaic pattern when doing rope bondage, her goal was to shake that loose and start thinking more dynamically and creatively. There is more to binding a person than just the act of applying rope to skin.

Yes, bondage (and all SM play really) is a form of theater. Like theater, there are a wide variety of emotions and responses you can draw from the performance. Do you want to laugh or cry? Are you looking for a transitive, Zen like rope experience where the top binds you and decorates you like a work of art? Or is the goal a sudden and fierce take down where you are forced to your knees and quickly bound tight? Fear? Surprise? Immobilization? What is it that makes you turned on and how can the top create that with rope?

Why do you think they call it a “scene” anyways?

We will talk more about this again. Till then, sleep calls.

Friday, November 05, 2004

SF bound again.

A short post this morning as I re-pack my rope bag from last night's date with Dancer. We are headed down to San Francisco for the weekend to attend Midori’s rope dojo. Two days of intense bondage instruction from one of the worlds best riggers. Not a bad way to spend a weekend.

I am not bringing my laptop along this trip so no updates till Monday.

Of course this means I will be missing Max’s fantastic Rope 201 class and Bondage Party at the WetSpot this Sunday. If you are in Seattle and have any interest in learning rope, DO NOT MISS THIS CLASS. Max is hands down one, if not the, best riggers and rope teachers in the state.

So while I am gone, you all have some homework. That’s right this is not a one way street here. You have a part in this blog too. I want you all to think about a fetish you have that while it turns your crank; you are also a bit too embarrassed to admit to it. We will talk more about that next week.

Here is a teaser, I so want to do a scene that involves a Lawn Gnome.

Thursday, November 04, 2004

A question of width.

A reader writes:

I was looking at your web site but I didn't see a discussion about
the differences between 6mm and 8mm rope. Can you elaborate?

Short answer, it all depends on what you want to do with it.

When I first started tying, I used exclusively 6 mm rope. Back then I did mostly elaborate body harness work. Rope corsets, karata harnesses, and the like. Limb binding and restraint was almost an after thought. The main goal was to “dress” the bottom in rope. To wrap them in layer upon layer of hemp and create very intricate harnesses. Now traditionalists will argue that 6mm is the only rope you should use for this style of bondage. The thinner rope allows for more intricate wraps and lays better when you have multiple ropes on a body part. Also, it is less bulky so you can do more complex weaves and knot designs with the rope. In those days, my rope bag was almost exclusively 6mm.

Eventually As I found myself doing more and more suspension scenes, more and more 8mm rope found its way into my bag. The first reason would be safety. While there is no official load rating for hemp, conventional wisdom is such that the thicker, more dense the rope the stronger it is. Additionally, using a wider rope means that I need to use less of it on a body part while still creating a wide, comfortable suspension point. You can do suspension with 6mm rope, I have done it lots. You just need to account for the thinner rope and use more of it. Both on the body and to the suspension point.

Lastly, 8mm is great for what I like to call “impromptu bondage”. Want to quickly bind a lover to the bed posts or do a take down scene? 8mm rope is much more forgiving in that department. There is less need to be anal and lay every wrap of rope just so, rather you can grab a handful of rope and go, “Wrist, meet bedpost. Bedpost, meet wrist!”

As I pack my rope back for Midori’s upcoming rope dojo, my rope bag is probably 60% 8mm and 40% 6mm. I should add that 4mm is starting to creep its way in to my bag these days too. I only have a few tiny pieces that I use for finger ties or hair bondage but look forward to seeing more of that in the days to come.

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

Well it is official, 4 more years of Curious George.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm feeling a bit like I just woke up in a Tijuana motel room with a hang over, painted blue, and hand cuffed to a 300lb transvestite hooker. So pardon me while I shake my head and try to figure out just what the hell happened last night.

I think I'm going to go drown my sorrows in bacon.

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m thinking that today is the kind of day where I’m going to really want a strong drink.

When it comes to alcohol, I have had a long and diverse relationship. Back in my college days Dave and I used to think that a nice evening at home consisted of a fifth of tequila, some lemons, salt and a good game of M.U.L.E. on his AtariST (extra points if you actually know what that was). Then, once I started to make money in the whole dotcom boom, the drink of choice was scotch. Yes, a good single malt. Or “God’s way of saying you make too much money” as we used to call it. $150 a bottle? Didn’t even bat an eye.

We used to tell this story that on New Years Eve 98, during the height of the boom; we were all sitting naked in some guy’s rooftop hot tub. A case of Dom Peignoin and a box of smuggled Cuban cigars were ours for the night. The conversation ran from topics like who’s IPO was going to pop first to the upcoming sailboat we were chartering in the Caribbean. Fast forward 2 years to New Years 00… we are naked in some guys bathroom tub, drinking thunderbird out of paper cups, smoking swisher sweets and talking about how soon our unemployment will run out.

These days when I drink, I usually stick to a nice pint of Guinness. I find that I can nurse one of them for a long, long time and not wake up in the morning feeling like the cat shit in my mouth during the night.

However I do have a penchant for a certain pink and ever so flamingly gay cocktail… the Cosmopolitan. You see, one year a certain lover and I made it our quest to find the perfect Cosmo in Seattle. Every Friday night we would dress to the hilt and cruise the town in search of it. We hit the big, swanky hotels and the divyest of dive bars in search of the perfect Cosmo.

Let it be known, the gayer the bar…the better the Cosmo. Period.

Monk’s Perfect Cosmopolitan
2 parts Raspberry Stoli Vodka
1 part Cointreau
3 parts cranberry juice
(Squeezed lemon or lime) Just a pinch
Crushed Ice, not cubed!
¼ cup Sugar

Pour sugar into small wide bowl or dish. Wet rim of martini glass and dip in sugar so just the outer rim has a ring of sugar crystals.

Pour the rest of ingredients into sharer and shake with crushed ice and strain into a chilled martini glass. The perfect drink will have tiny bits of lime and flecks of crushed ice floating on the surface of the drink.

Of course what I fear is that by the end of today, I’m just going to want a double Maker’s Mark served neat.

Monday, November 01, 2004

Well I did it; I posed for a photo shoot / public scene with Dancer and her partner Sir.

After spending most of my life on the OTHER side of the camera, I must say that it was an eye opening experience. Thankfully I could not have picked better souls to experience this with. There is a story to be told here, trust me I'm working on just how to tell it to you all. We are just now starting to get the shots from the photographers so if there is interest (and any good ones to show off) I'll post more.

P.S. Go out and vote tomorrow! I'm fearing that it is going to be a long and strange day.