Military Bondage Play in L.A.

14 Jan

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I am bringing one of my favorite classes to L.A. for the first time, thanks to the Bordello of Decadence.

milstyleBondageBoot camp bondage, interrogation techniques, & more!

Military bondage play draws from both fictional and practical methods of bondage with a more martial theme. Samurai, the US Cavalry, native Americans, special forces, Batman & Star Trek: this class explores the fun of bondage role-play in a Military style. The class covers the physical forms of restraint and the reasoning behind them (including how to modify them for the safety and comfort of your “prisoner”). It also goes into the psychological aspects of military discipline, interrogation techniques, and especially the methods of securing and manipulating both the male & female body.

This is one of Graydancer’s most popular classes, and the Bordello of Decadence has agreed to make their space available after the class as well for practicing the skills you’ve learned!

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Gray dancer’s Military Bondage Play Class
Wednesday, January 21, 2014, 8-11pm
$10/at the door
Bordello of Decadence
7831 Arroyo Dr, Rosemead, CA

RSVP at the Fetlife Event!

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KUMIR, Chapter 23: The Eidolon of Lust

27 Dec

Le Temps des Finances by Apolonis

Wondering what this is about? Read prior chapters!

When Jason finally felt like opening his eye – only one was available, the other pressed against Jane’s warm skin – he saw the line of needles still sticking in her back, like strange little cel-towers on a warm skin-toned landscape. They’d stopped glowing, the tiny filigreed wires spiraling back in to protect the gems now that the healing was done. Jason sat up, seeing Jane and Isabella lying with eyes closed, breathing easily. Down at the foot of the bed Patrick was sitting quietly, looking at the two women, his hands now folded reverently in his lap.

Reaching for the crown of Jane’s head, Jason carefully withdrew the needle, wiping it down with a surgical cleanser before placing them one by one in the inlaid box. After the third one Jane smiled and stirred, turning her head silently to watch Jason. Isabella still rested, eyes closed. Patrick began untying the ropes slowly so as to not disturb her. Both men moved with a careful ritualistic reverence, only stopping on occasion to caress the Jane, who gave soft, happy murmurs at their touch. As the last coil of rope unwound from her calf Jane carefully slid off to the side of her sleeping friend. Now that the magic had calmed, there was a strange, post-orgiastic awkwardness in the room.

“You’re more than a barista, aren’t you, Jason?” Jane asked softly. He didn’t answer. He turned and rummaged some more in the lacquered case at the foot of the bed. Jane watched to see if he would answer, finally sighing and looking over at Isabella. Her wrists and legs were marked with the impressions of the hemp ropes. Her body sprawled lush and relaxed, her mouth slightly-open with a soft snore. Continue reading 

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KUMIR, Chapter 22: Needles and Light

10 Dec

courtesy Jeannette P via Flickr CC

Jason returned carrying a small flat wooden box with dark curling patterns carved into it. Jane was too weak to actually convulse any more and her body simply shivered in waves that trembled through the ropes that bound her, wrists and ankles, to Isabella. The larger woman was breathing with the deep and easy rhythm of sleep, her face a classic aquiline portrait calm over the top of Jane’s matted hair. The hemp ropes that bound them were a dark crimson, the color of blood, and they pulled the women’s limbs out into an X on the futon. Isabella’s skin looked ruddy and almost luminous in the ambient light of the room, in stark contrast to the pallid tone of Jane’s body.

She was laying face down on Isabella, breath shallow and gasping. Her earlier brief moment of lucidity had been completely overcome by the shock of her ordeal. Blood still flowed from wounds in her nose, breast, and from between her legs, leaving scarlet trails across Isabella’s body and gradually staining the coverlet with dark red blood.

As Jason opened the needle case he glanced worriedly at Patrick. “I don’t think that bleeding is slowing down for any good reason.” Continue reading 

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Towards an Inclusive View of Rope Bondage

3 Dec

ropes provided by BastardRopes.com

Reposted from my Fetlife Writing of the same name.

Recently I read an excellent article about the author Ursula K. Leguin. She spoke of “five principal elements,” which must “work in one insoluble unitary movement” in order to produce great writing.

Quote:

  • The patterns of the language — the sounds of words.
  • The patterns of syntax and grammar; the way the words and sentences connect themselves together; the ways their connections interconnect to form the larger units (paragraphs, sections, chapters); hence the movement of the work, its tempo, pace, gait, and shape in time.
  • The patterns of the images: what the words make us or let us see with the mind’s eye or sense imaginatively.
  • The patterns of the ideas: what the words and the narration of events make us understand, or use our understanding upon.
  • The patterns of the feelings: what the words and the narration, by using all the above means, make us experience emotionally or spiritually, in areas of our being not directly accessible to or expressible in words.

Since my thoughts tend towards the rope arts, I couldn’t help but see some parallels in what people talk about as being “kokoro”, “kinbaku”, or “really fucking awesome rope scene”, depending on the language you prefer. To me, the parallels went something like this: Continue reading 

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KUMIR: Chapter 21 – Enter the Qadish

18 Nov

Naiia in rapture

Jane snored softly, head in Isabella’s lap as the redhead calmly watched the goat eating. When the door clicked open Isabella looked up, still calm, only mildly curious, a soft smile on her face as a black-gloved hand edged around the opening. It was followed by a man in black fatigues and a military harness strapped over his broad chest. He wore a black bandana tight over his scalp and his face was smeared black with camo paint over and under his neatly trimmed beard. He crept into the room silently and efficiently, closing the door behind him. Putting an ear to the wood he listened for a moment, then glanced up at the cameras in the corners to verify their lights were out. He gave a grim nod and turned towards the two women.

He spoke into a small microphone strapped his shoulder. “Alec, this is Patrick. I’m in the room, video is confirmed disabled, I’m – holy shit!” His eyes widened as realized he was standing in a pool of blood. Beecee’s head was inches away from the edge of the man’s boot, eyes frozen wide with the shock of his unexpected death. The crimson pool was mottled with the white and blue of the biker’s intestines, spilling out of his large belly. The goat stood close over the grisly mound, and Patrick looked away, trying to ignore the happy muffled bleating of the goat as it continued to munch.

He looked at the women and swore again. Isabella looked up at him placidly, body smeared and crusted over with the dried remains of various body fluids. The wild tangle of her auburn hair looked muddy brown. Her eyes had deep circles of fatigue under them, but they still shone with the drug-induced devotion. She looked like a refugee from an 80’s punk band. Continue reading 

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KUMIR, Chapter 20: Mangled Fuck in Blue

21 Oct

Editor’s note: As noted earlier, this is a novel about bad people doing bad things. This chapter gets extremely dark, and trigger warning for nonconsensual scenes of torture and sexual assault. Because this is about the villains, folks, and they are Bad People. Proceed at your own risk.

Jane came awake slowly, her head filled with a dull roaring tide of pain left over from the chokehold. She was laying naked on her side on what felt like a cement floor. She listened without opening her eyes, trying to orient herself. She couldn’t feel any bonds on her body or limbs. There were no street sounds, and as far as she could tell she was alone, wherever she was. Cracking one eye, she saw the corner of a frosted window high up in the wall letting a dirty gleam of daylight into the room through chain link barricades covering the frame.

She moved ever-so-slightly and realized that what she’d mistaken for freedom was actually her hands and arms numb in the tight ropes binding them. She didn’t try moving her hands – couldn’t feel them anyway – but instead shifted her shoulders with her breath, trying to gauge the range of motion available.

There wasn’t much, but the movement inspired a sudden click and sliding sound of a door opening. “Hello, Jane,” Theo’s voice echoed through the empty room cheerfully, and she opened her eyes fully just in time for a floor’s-eye view of his boot rushing towards her abdomen. Continue reading 

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Join me 10/14 for #SexTalkTuesday!

10 Oct

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I’ve been pretty active on twitter pretty much since it came out, and unlike many people who find it annoying, I’ve found it pretty useful. I use it as a means of communication with friends both in public and in private, as an occasional soapbox, as a job lead engine, a publicity model, and sometimes as a really silly place to riff on various ideas (such as #KinkMadeBetterWithSharks and the like).

This Tuesday (the 14th of October) I’m using it for something else: my first Sex Talk Tuesday (#SexTalkTuesday) chat! These are put on by the folks over at Sssh.com, and they asked me if I would consider hosting for them. It’s like the grand tradition of inspirational fireside chats that Roosevelt used to pep up Americans during the Great Depression – except instead of talking about New Deals we’ll be talking about kink and sex! And I’ll likely have a cigar, rather than a cigarette in a fancy holder.

What kind of things will we chat about? C’mon, it’s twitter, you know better than to ask that. I have come up with some questions that may spur the conversation, but I really don’t know what will happen. That’s the fun! Past chats (you can find them here) have featured people like Dylan Ryan, Latoya Brown, Nina Hartley and others far more qualified and attractive than myself, but I’m still going to give it my best shot.

I hope you’ll join us from 2-4pm EST on Tuesday, October 14th by following (and posting) to #sextalktuesday. It should be an interesting ride, and I’m really looking forward to it.

KUMIR, Chapter 19: The Bloody Sunset

1 Oct

courtesy Kylir Horton, via Flickr CCPadre Innocente looked over his empty chapel as the time for the exchange approached. Tall columns loomed over rows of empty pews cut by the diagonal rays of the setting sun slanting through the rose window. The glowing shafts of red, green, and blue speckled the rich dark wood and red velvet of the seats. A large and bloody figure of Christ crucified dominate the wall behind the priest, but he hardly gave it a thought. Like the altar before him, that symbol had long ago stopped having any spiritual significance. As he looked down at the altar, he felt again the physical urges sweep through him, and his face wrinkled slightly as he fought them. It was no use, though, and images of her on the altar – the way he wanted to – if only she’d… His breathing hissed through tight lips as he fought against the lust that invaded his mind.

Abruptly his face cleared. He might not serve the church any longer, but that simply meant a different master. While the relationship wasn’t giving him everything he wanted right now, the promise rewards were always tantalizingly close. Also, he reflected with a touch of fear, the consequences of failure even closer. Padre continued to play his part as a “spiritual leader”, as if he had something to offer the misshapen souls that came through the big sacristy doors in search of something beyond their pathetic lives. Over the years he had provided guidance, it is true, sending them wherever his Master wanted – off to New York City to feed the city’s vast hunger, or the hands of the Incubikers or Kitten’s Playroom here in Detroit. They all fed into the machine of control held tight in the Master’s hands.

Then she had come to town a few weeks ago. Isabella, the computer guy’s wife, bringing their son and her own special brand of sexy to the cybersex company. Padre’s master had seen this red-haired woman as an opportunity to gain more leverage over the wily Australian. He was to watch her, report, and then use her as his master directed, or send her off for someone else’s amusement. Padre Innocente had done it with dozens, hundreds, maybe, of girls before, and he’d meant to do it this time, too.

Really, he had.

But then that damned Greek gangster, Michael, had grabbed her – as if he knew there was something was special about her. A minor setback, but Padre was a patient man, and he knew how to wait for her to come into his sphere of influence. He hadn’t been surprised when one Sunday, in a fit of generosity, Michael had let Isabella come to Mass. Padre Innocente tried not to imagine what she had done for the filthy man in return for that brief freedom.

As he watched her from the pulpit that sabbath he knew her motivation wasn’t spiritual. The homily he’d delivered hundreds of times before suddenly felt foreign to his tongue, his mouth dry as he tried to maintain his composure in the presence of her glorious form. The homeless rejects who sparsely attended the service seemed oblivious, and Padre wanted to shout at them: Don’t you see? How can you not fall to her feet and worship her? SHE is the true divine!.

Isabella hadn’t even looked at the priest. Her gaze had focused beyond the bored Incubikers set to guard her to the pew on the left where a tiny boy sat next to his father across the aisle. Her son, Padre Innocente had realized, and her husband. That was the moment his passionate hatred for Alex, the man who dared claim that title, was born.

It burned deep and strong because as Padre looked at Isabella, her red hair wildly curling down her shoulders, her neck draped with a delicate chain hung with amber, her body a suggestive wave of lust covered by her wrap…he had fallen.

It was quite simple, really. His master wanted her, and eventually his master would have her. Padre Innocente had no doubt about that. But first, surely, he could have just a taste, just a bit more of that unnameable feeling that she inspired.

Surely the master would not mind that much? he had thought on that day, weeks ago, standing in this same pulpit.

Now he shivered as the cold fall air seeped through the thick stone walls of the sanctuary. His master had minded, it turned out, and was not pleased with the Padre’s attempts to console Isabella. It turned out that Michael’s kidnapping had been designed to demotivate her, to break her as so many other women had broken. As ineffective a priest as Padre was, his words had comforted her, given her hope of a negotiated peace to reunite her with her husband and son. Padre had given her carte blanche to come to him for support at any time. Then she had come, but not alone, not helpless so that he could be her salvation. No, she’d shown up with her husband and child in tow, and really…what else could he have done?

Padre shivered, remembering how beautiful she’d been, how her sad face had begun to lighten with hope the last time he’d seen her, leaving the chapel with that pitiful, unworthy scum who called himself her husband…

Innocente’s thoughts were interrupted as the door at the far end of the sacristy opened. The remains of the light outside starkly silhouetted a small form, sending long tails of Jane’s shadow darting up the aisle between the empty pews. She stepped in warily, eyes flashing up and around the large chapel, her hands open and ready at her sides.

Padre Innocente idly wondered if she had any guns or other weapons with her. He found this woman distasteful; her hair short, stunted like her body, nothing like the Isabella’s long lush beauty. Isabella’s beauty had been a lie, though, he reminded himself, a cruel teasing mockery. It stiffened his posture as Jane worked her way down the aisle.

When she reached the midpoint of the aisle, Jane finally focused on Padre Innocente. She smiled at him with a sarcastic, devilish grin that made him uncomfortably unsure whether she was planning to laugh at him or fuck him. He flexed his fingers, wanting to reach into his pocket for the comfort of what rested there.

He held still with the discipline of impersonated reverence, ignoring her smile. After a moment, she moved to sit in the pews at his left. Don’t think I missed you choosing the left hand of God, whorebitch he thought. She brought two fingers to her lips and let out a shrill whistle.

More silhouettes appeared at the door then. First Michael, then Theo supporting the shambling, barely-conscious Tony. The IncuBiker leader’s hands were palm out before him, showing peaceful intent. He looked for all the world like a supplicant come to the faith at last. The trio paused at the head of the aisle, looking down the expanse of the sacristy towards where Padre Innocente stood.

He waited a moment to see if more IncuBikers followed, but none did. The priest knew they waited just outside, but outside was all he needed. He lifted his right hand, two fingers raised together as if about to bestow a blessing. Behind him, the door to the vestibule cracked open, and Kitten peeked out. “Is – is it safe?” she asked, querulously, and Michael’s sardonic laughter echoed through the church.

Is it safe? Are you really asking that? And me without my dental chair…” He smiled over at his brother, but Theo was looking at him blankly. “’Is it safe.’ Olivier? Marathon Man?” As Theo continued to look at him with a blank stare, he shook his head. “Oh, my brother. I have neglected your education…” He looked down the aisle again and called out. “It’s as safe as it’s gonna get, bitch. You have the flash drive?”

She nodded, and handed it to Padre Innocente, who motioned to Theo and both began walking down the aisle towards each other.

Michael and Kitten watched their designates slowly approach each other at the center of the chapel. Michael had a frowning, almost bored expression while Kitten nervously shifted her weight back and forth, fingers fluttering first at her chest then dropping and drumming frenetically at her legs. Jane leaned back in the pew, legs crossed, watching it all with an amused and aloof expression as if in a box seat at a Shakespearean drama.

As the Incubiker and his captive came closer, Padre Innocente saw Tony’s face, a ruin of puffy flesh, ragged cuts and abrasions. One eye was swollen shut and there was a thin trail of spittle drizzling down the left side of his mouth. Dark bruises on his torso were visible through a rip in his shirt and one foot seemed to be twisted off to the side, necessitating Theo’s support under his shoulder. Padre Innocente closed his eyes, realizing he actually had a shred of sympathy for the man. Then he remembered his master’s priorities his eyes snapped open, dark and glittering.

Padre had carefully paced it so that they all reached the midpoint of the sanctuary where Jane sat at the same time. Without looking at her he held out the flash drive and Jane took it casually. Lifting her other hand she fit it into a socket near the wrist of her fingerless glove. She stretched her fingers flat, the small black squares of plastic on each knuckle aligning to form a small rectangular screen. It flickered amber, small lines of text appearing row after row. Jane tsked with approval and looked up at Theo as if she were about to say something. Seeing his serious face she apparently thought better of it and simply nodded.

Theo nodded back, and sullenly dipped from under Tony’s arm. The wounded man sagged, barely managing a half-step towards the priest. Padre Innocente caught him awkwardly, his white robes instantly soaked with blood that covered Tony from head to toe. Theo turned and began walking back up the aisle where his brother waited, ignoring Jane.

She stood but waited a moment longer to make sure the beaten Tony and the priest could walk back. That meant she saw Kitten first. The aging porn starlet was standing in front of the altar, the last of the evening night glittering orange reflections on the blade she held at Isabella’s throat.

Theo was still walking towards his brother, blocking his view, and so Michael saw them just as Theo grinned and yelled “Now, Beecee!” Michael’s incoherent “No!I” followed a split second later.

Padre and Tony reacted very differently to the shouts as they stumbled down the aisle between the pews. Tony hunched, conditioned to associate those voices with the onset of more pain. He curled away from the priest and fell painfully thump to the worn carpet.

Padre Innocente, angry at the idea of any voice but his being raised in his chapel, turned indignantly towards the Doukas brothers. Beecee’s bullet, fired from the choir loft, tore through his left jugular and exited the back of his neck, half decapitating him. His head flopped forward onto his chest, eyes still rolling wildly, body still too shocked to fall. The last image on Padre Innocente’s retinas was not, as he would have liked, the tearful face of Isabella, crying at his demise. Instead he saw Jane, upside down, looking at him with pity. He wanted to snarl at her, to roar out the truth of his master and his awesome purpose and make her tremble in fear.

That was his final thought – of his master, and how terribly disappointed he would be at Padre’s failure. As the darkness engulfed him in an inexorable tide of cold oblivion, the priest had time for one final wish.

He wished he were an atheist.

Michael found his words as the priest’s body thumped to the ground, shouting “Hold your fire, Beecee!” even as the clear metal click of another round being chambered into the rifle came from the loft.

Kitten screamed. “I have her, Michael, and I will slit her fucking throat right now if you do anything else to my husband!” Her voice was edged with a twangy panicked whine as she beckoned her husband. “Come on, Tony, love, come here, we’ll get away…”

Tony tried to get up, but fell again, clutching his side. Michael swore, eyes fixed on Isabella. Theo was looking back and forth, first at his brother, then down the aisle to where Kitten held Isabella as a human shield. He was torn between not understanding his brother’s obsession and fearing him enough to not dare object to it.

Jane looked at Isabella. She was dressed for travel in an open-necked white blouse and jeans, hair pulled back in a ponytail which Kitten used to pull her head back viciously. Isabella didn’t look at Jane. Instead she leveled a burning glare at the fallen body of the priest, slowly bleeding out a final sacrament into the center of the chapel. Janes hands flexed as if wanting to hold something, but no one seemed able to move except for Tony, inching his way towards his wife’s end of the chapel.

“For fuck’s sake, Jane, help him out,” Theo finally said, and Jane jumped at the sound. She glanced back at the brothers and saw that Michael was still staring at Isabella, the fear replaced with a growing anger. “Jealous boy…” she murmured, shrugging, and stepped into the aisle, doing her best to avoid Padre Innocente’s blood. She reached Tony within a few steps and bent down to help the injured man to his feet.

As they hobbled along she did her best to support him but everywhere she touched seemed to bring a new hiss of pain. Some places were worse than others, moving under her hands with the sickening wrongness of broken bones. When they finally reached Kitten and Isabella, Tony focused his one good eye on his wife and her strategy for saving him.

“No, ya bitch!” he moaned hoarsely. “Without the fookin’ ginger whore we’ve got nothing – we need the…this was all for…” He reached out towards Isabella and the woman hissed in disgust as his bloody hands ineffectually smeared her white shirt crimson.

Her reaction inspired a reaction in Tony. He looked wildly between Isabella and his wife. Something seemed to give him more energy, perhaps the imminent reality of his escape from the IncuBikers, and he pushed Jane away. He braced himself at the edge of the altar and Jane stood there as he and his wife made their slow, hobbling way. Kitten kept the knife at Isabella’s throat until they reached the doorway of the sacristy. As Tony pushed it open Michael’s voice rang out. “Take her and I will tear that building to the ground, Nesmith!”

Tony turned, a wild smile twisting his broken mouth. “Take the bitch, then!” he laughed, nudging his wife’s arm. She frowned, protesting, and he roared at her. “Let her go, ye fookin’ cuntbag! We don’t need her anymore!” Eyes widening with understanding, Kitten pushed Isabella hard and simultaneously stepped back with her husband. The door shut with a solid thud as they locked it. Isabella stumbled back towards the altar, trying to recover her balance.

Jane caught her before she fell, eyes full of questions. She didn’t dare ask anything as they both stood. Michael and Theo were walking quickly down the aisle, leaping over the remains of Padre Innocente like wolves on a hunt.

“Thank you, Jane,” Michael said, grabbing Isabella’s arm and pulling her to his side. He held out his other hand. “The flash drive?” Jane nodded absently, eyes still on Isabella as she unclipped it from her glove and gave it to him. Then she looked away, muttering to herself. Michael tilted his head. “What was that?” he asked in a mild tone.

“I said, Mr. Doukas, that was quite the clusterfuck.” She motioned towards Padre Innocente. “Was that really necessary?”

“Of course not.” Michael’s tone hardened. “In fact, it was entirely unexpected – as was her being here.” He pulled Isabella closer, then paused. He looked at the redhead with a puzzled expression. Isabella returned his gaze coolly as if nothing was wrong, as if she hadn’t shown up in the hands of his enemies instead of in the lavish prison he’d created for her.

Michael studied her a moment longer, then turned to Jane. “Speaking of surprises, Kitten called me just before we got here. She wanted to clarify one detail that you got wrong about that video.”

‘”Oh?” Jane said, voice casual, shoulders tensing.

‘”Yes. She told me the whole video was shot from the point of view of someone sitting on top of the tanker.” He waited, but Jane didn’t respond. “She also told me that it showed all of my boys, especially Theo. In fact, there was only one person it didn’t show at all.” He paused again, then nodded towards her. “You.”

Jane bent her knees to spring at Michael when Theo’s arm came around her throat. She felt his muscles clench around her carotid arteries like an iron vise. She coughed and struggled as he lifted her entirely off the ground.

Michael reached into his pocket. “I didn’t need her to tell me that, though, to know you were a scheming bitch,” he continued. “You also left this in Isabella’s room.” He held up the silver sarong she’d worn during her duel with Theo. He dropped it fluttering to the floor as Jane lost consciousness.

Isabella watched Jane’s body go limp as Theo grinned. She looked bored and pressed closer to Michael with an easy possessiveness. “Yeah, the little lezzy just wanted to fuck me the same way all your boys do, Michael. Throw her ass back on the street. ” She traced a finger idly down his jaw, a purr of lust filling her voice. “You never did celebrate your victory over Tony, you know…”

Michael pulled away and looked at her, his expression still puzzled. “When I first saw you,” he said, “you filled my vision. I couldn’t eat or sleep without wanting you, craving you, more than anything else. Your touch made my head feel brighter than the best drugs I’d ever tried. You completely entranced me.” Suddenly he shifted, grabbing her wrist hard. She cried out as he forced her to her knees.

“I don’t know why, but you don’t do that any more,” he said flatly, raising his fist. “and that pisses me off.” His punch caught her flat against the side of her head. Isabella’s eyes rolled up and she slumped unconscious to the floor next to the crumpled pile of silver fabric that glittered with the last rays of the sun.

 

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Travel Tips for the International Kinkster

18 Sep

Right now I’m at the start of a couple of months of active traveling around the U.S. and Canada. At the same time I’ve been lucky enough to host Hishi Karo of the Shibari Dojo Vienna for a week in my home, which led to many interesting conversations about the differences in various countries. I also have a good friend about to embark on a kink tour of Australia, for which I’m envious about everything except the spiders.

Seems like a good time for a “top ten” list of travel lessons, most learned the hard way.

  1. Learn the Art of Waiting.

    Delay is a traveler’s companion; whether it’s a bus or a visa or another delayed flight, figure out how to wait gracefully. Sitting and being angry won’t make things any faster, so whether it’s meditation or an audiobook or writing smut in you notebook, you need to cultivate the ability (in the words of Chase Blackwood) of turning the Gates of Boredom into the Shrine of Patience.

  2. Know where you’re going and who you’re staying with.

    That sinking feeling when the border agent says “ Who are you staying with? ” and you realize that “Cocksucking Smutkitten” is probably not her real name. They will also ask where you are staying, so have an address ready along with a legal name. A corollary to this tip is that you have several ways of communicating with your contact – it’s a rude shock to realize that your phone doesn’t actually work or that the internet is down at your destination.

  3. Have some local currency. 

    Do you know how much this costs in Australia? Maybe you should.

    Do you know how much this costs in Australia? Maybe you should.

    On one drive up into Canada I had planned on getting local scrip from an ATM crossing the border; I literally had no cash on me, in either U.S. or Canadian. That meant that when I hit the $3 cash-only toll, I had to turn around and find an open cash machine about five miles back in the U.S. It was a silly delay that would have been easily overcome with a few bucks in both currencies in my pocket. It’s also a good idea to get an idea of what things cost in the country you’re heading towards – such as the tools of your trade (like lube) to a bacon cheeseburger. And do they bacon cheeseburgers where you’re going? Fortune favors the prepared traveller.

  4. Dress up to travel.

    There is a wealth of writing on why this is a good idea. Most imply that you’ll get things like free upgrades and such, which has not been my experience. What I can tell you is that coming off a plane after an uncomfortable flight and having a sexy attendant say “Lookin’ sharp!” puts a nice spring in my step, and taking a few minutes in the restroom to get squared away before meeting my connection helps me maintain a professional persona inside and outside.

  5. Have a personal hotspot/wifi connection.

    One of the differences between traveling kink presenters and business folk is that they usually don’t have the sites they use blocked for moral reasons. Panera, for example, has great food, great coffee, and free wifi – that blocks sites like this one, Fetlife, and more. If you arrange to have your own source of internet access – a hotspot device or tethering of some kind – you can avoid being subject to the censorship or (worse) variable speed of the “free” wifi.

  6. Talk to the Source.

    In any situation, get the information from primary sources whenever possible. For example, if you’re waiting on a hotel shuttle at the airport, don’t just accept the front desk’s estimate as to time of arrive. Insist on getting the drivers’ number and calling them for the eta. The hotel staff are busy with people who are actually standing in front of them, and will sometimes just make up estimates to shut you up.

  7. Be Prepared for Any Audience or Venue.

    If you’re going to a place for the first time, you have an idea of what it looks like in your head. Think of that like a fantasy of a good date – the reality may be better or worse, but it’s almost certainly different. Make sure your class or presentation will work whether you have an audience of two people or two hundred, with or without a microphone, a projector, or a whiteboard. Can you deliver a presentation if your luggage was lost an you have no equipment? These things happen.

  8. Have a Wing Person.

    Most kink presenters I know, myself included, really want to be of value to the people at our classes. This means spending time at the end of a presentation talking with attendees, answering questions. Hopefully these are simple and straightforward, but occasionally there are people who basically want to tell you a long story and occupy your attention for longer than your energy (depleted by the class) will allow. Have a friend nearby who knows the Signal. Something subtle (Hishi Karo draws her thumb across her neck in a throat slitting gesture) that cues them to come up and make an excuse that will provide an escape.

  9. Have a Supply of Food & Drink.

    You know how the first thing you do when stranded on a desert island is to find a source of fresh water?* Same thing with your new surroundings. Make sure you know where you can find food (including the hours they are open, as kinksters tend to keep different hours than most). If there is some beverage you need to survive (coffee, in my case) find out where it is available and the cost (see number 3). Always have a minimum supply of rations in case these things are not available – in my case it’s usually a bag of almonds and cranberries and a few packets of VIA coffee for emergencies. Traveling will deplete your body faster than you expect, and it’s much easier to deal with challenges when you’re fueled up.

  10. Have a good story to tell.

    This could also be called the Don’t try to follow Murphy Blue rule. He was at an event telling one of his epic and entertaining stories (I believe this one was about tying up five women in a tornado)** and when he finished, he gestured towards me and said “ Now you tell one, Gray! ” My muse squawked, hitched up her skirts and left immediately, and I realized that I didn’t have any really good stories prepared. I have good stories, mind you, but I wasn’t really prepared to tell them in a group setting. Lesson learned: always have a “ No shit, there I was… ” ready to go for when you might be asked that “ So, what’s the strangest things that ever… ” question.

Those are my top ten tips for traveling kinksters. I’m positive many other people have other suggestions, so lay ‘em on me: what’s worked for you, and what do you wish you’d known before you ever stepped out the door?

 

* You didn’t? Well, now you do.
** This is not even remotely an exaggeration.

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KUMIR, Chapter 18: The Mouth of the Messenger

6 Sep

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“She has what?” Michael shouted into Jane’s face. Theo stood next to the desk looking worriedly at his brother while BeeCee lurked behind his boss glaring at her. His forehead was still bandaged where her whip had marked him. In the corner of the office Tony lay in a pool of his own blood. He was breathing raggedly, bound tight with some rough manila rope.

Jane kept her voice low and calm. “As best I can tell, she has footage of Theo helping Ksenja and the other Russian whores out of the truck. She said that the DA gets it unless Tony comes back unharmed.”

Theo laughed harshly. “Unharmed?” He gestured towards Tony’s limp body in the corner.

Jane sighed. “Yeah, I told her that really wasn’t an option. But I downplayed it – told her he’d gotten a little roughed up but he’d be fine.” She looked earnestly at Michael. “I told her she should take what she could get. She said she just wants things back the way they were.” Jane paused, trying to guage Michael’s reaction, but the gang leader just kept the same frown and angry glare. Jane gave a little shrug. “I think we could get the video pretty easily if we promise her that.”

“You’re right.” Michael’s voice was even again, sounding like the soul of reason. Theo relaxed his shoulders slightly as his older brother turned to look at him. “What do you think, Theo?”

His second-in-command gave a wry smile. “We could do that, I guess. We’ve still got the whores…”

Michael seemed to not hear his brother. He snapped his fingers. “Come to think of it, if we gave them Isabella too, that would patch things up even more.”

Theo looked up sharply at his brother. “Um…well…I don’t know if we…”

“And then, Theo,” Michael continued, “we could shave your ass so that when you bent over for Kitten to fuck you she wouldn’t scratch her shiny pleather harness. Maybe BeeCee could gargle her piss, while we’re at it.” BeeCee worriedly glanced at his boss, not sure where this was going but sure he didn’t like it.

“For that matter,” Michael’s voice never raised a decibel, pronouncing each word with vicious banality, “maybe we should let dear Ms. Jane here pull a train on all three of us first. You haven’t been airtight with the Incubikers yet, have you, Ms. Jane? What does that cost-wait, let me guess. $1500? Each?” His words may have been calm, but his glare could have melted an engine block.

Jane looked unimpressed. “Hey, Mr. Doukas, don’t shoot the messenger. Yeah, I’m usually tryin’ to make a buck, but I’m not any happier about this news than you are. I was there when Theo grabbed the whores, too. I dunno how Kitten got it – maybe some kind of remote upload – but I’m telling you, Theo and BeeCee and everybody, including me, is in it clear as day.”

“Fuck,” Theo breathed softly. He looked down at the floor. “OK, big brother. I get it. We don’t bend over for the bitch. But what are we gonna do, then? We don’t own this DA like the last one.”

Michael stood up suddenly, and Jane was the only one who didn’t flinch. Her eyes stayed locked on Michael’s, neither challenging nor submissive. The older man stood for a moment, considering, then answered Theo. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do, little brother. We’re going to use your pussy-du-jour one more time to set them up.” He turned his head slightly, speaking over his shoulder. “BeeCee!”

“Yeah, boss?”

“You still got that rifle?”

“Yeah, boss!” BeeCee sounded eager at the thought of some action.

“Good.” Looking forward again, his voice lowered to a growl. “Ms. Jane. I will be paying you $5000 for this.” Jane opened her mouth to reply, but Michael cut her off. “That will be the last money you see from this town, understand?” His eyes glittered. “I’m tired of your mouth, no matter well it sucks my brother’s cock.” He waited. Jane closed her mouth and simply nodded.

It seemed to satisfy him. “Good.” His voice took on a more businesslike tone as he laid out the plan. In the corner, the puddle of blood continued to spread around Tony’s ravaged form.

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