Before I even showed up In San Francisco, I already had plans. I knew there were two places I wanted to visit, Mr. S Leather & Wicked Grounds. These two stops would be easy, seeing as they are merely a block away from each other and only a mile and a half walk from the hotel.
However, the other activity I wanted to enjoy took prior planning. On Thursday night, my first night in San Francisco, my first night at IMsL, I took a tour of Kink.com.
Any adult can take a tour of Kink.com. There studios are located in the San Francisco Armory. But, first, you must pre-purchase a ticket online. And while $25 seemed like a hefty price to some I spoke to, I found the adventure worth it.
In my red sundress and Zim jacket, and carrying my Hello Kitty bag with my notebook, I hopped a bus in front of the hotel and headed towards the Armory. I was actually worried I would be late, but, as fate would have it, I was thirty minutes early.
As I stood outside the door, after having been instructed I would not be allowed inside til five minutes beforehand, I wondered if I would be the only visitor that day. Of course, I was not. There were about 16-18 total for my tour.
Our guide was a lovely brunette named Cara. Very excited, bubbly, with lots of information about the building and the business inside of it, I enjoyed her tidbits of information as she escorted us through the multiple levels of the building.
We visited the set of Hogtied.
Ultimate Surrender, where hot chicks like to wrestle and fuck each other.
A Butcher Room, complete with fake sides of beef.
The Showers, which Cara informed us, though they looked nasty, were indeed completely sanitary.
The Chain Room, which those of you who have visited my Fet account will see a quite cute picture of me caught up in.
The Fucking Machines Laboratory with, I shit you not, the robot from Short Circuit; he has, indeed, been converted into a fucking machine.
A Speakeasy with actual alcohol for when co-workers need a respite after hours.
And an everyday apartment set, previously used for the upcoming film Cherry, starring Heather Graham and James Franco. Unfortunately no, James Franco did not fuck on the set.
There were large 55 gallon drums of lube, as well as sanitizer. There was the Dungeon’s dream room, a prop closet over fifty feet long with toys and implements for days. There was the underground former shooting range; this was an armory, after all, for the National Guard. We saw the wood shop, and heard an employee band practicing. And we even got to watch a movie being filmed from far, far away. All of it was a hell of a lot of fun.
But the climax of the tour, what I had been waiting for, was upstairs.
The Upper Floor.
Lush red curtains. Thick carpets. Long dining tables. Oil paintings. And that was just in the Dining Rooms.
The Parlor, that was where the action happened.
The fireplace with the chalkboard noting the orgasm challenge. The lonely Shibari ring hanging from the ceiling. The bronze statue of a naked woman, which was then tied in rope. The cabinet stocked with rope and other fun things. The cushioned high back chair that could sit three. And the four oil paintings, hung on the far wall, with one face that I knew.
Stefanos, the Steward.
Yes, I wanted to be on the Upper Floor. I wanted to play there. Wanted to submit there. Wanted to be hurt there. Wanted to be fucked there.
But this was a tour, and nothing more.
We made our way back downstairs, the tour ended.
As everyone else filtered out, none of whom had seemed kinky, I stepped aside so that I could thank Cara for the tour. I had quite enjoyed myself, seeing all the places I had only glimpsed through my computer screen.
She thanked me for my enthusiasm during the tour. Indeed, though I asked few questions, I had LOTS of comments, especially pertaining to how much I loved the site and the amazing sets we saw.
I said goodnight, because it was getting late, and ventured back outside. Finding the bus stop, I patiently waited. About ten minutes passed, and here came Cara again. Turns out she took the bus home. We chatted for a bit more, but she disembarked before I did.
Though I did not play, did not get tied up to the ring, flogged or whipped, slapped our beat, still, I had toured Kink.com.
I smiled as I made my way back to the hotel, back to IMsL, back to my normally scheduled vacation.
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