poeticdesires

Category: Inretrepida

  • Care

    It was the simplest movement, the simplest motion. A submissive sat with her head on her Dom’s knee. Then lightly, gently, she brushed her cheek against his knee. That was all it took to bring me to tears.

    I quietly snuck my way downstairs, located the bathroom, leaned against the wall, and cried.

    I wanted that. I missed that. I yearned for that.

    Something so simple as my head on a knee, such slight affection. I had, for some time, forgotten how much I loved that, how much I ached for it each day.

    I let myself cry, letting my sorrow spill out. I grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at my eyes, wiping away my tears. I took a breath. I let myself cry again.

    And then I regained my composure. I contemplated leaving the gathering, but I knew that would only make my heart hurt worse. Instead I steeled my resolve. This place was full of friends. I would be okay.

    Slowly easing back upstairs, I again stayed on the periphery of the gathering. Looking over to my left, I saw a woman sitting on the floor working on a pair of leather shoes. She used products and techniques I had no seen before. Curious, I sat in a nearby chair and watched her work.

    And then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

    “Poetic, can you let down your hair.” My curls were pulled up in a tight bun. I pulled off my hair tie.
    “Come with me.” I followed Scotty to the adjoining lounge area.

    Standing in the spot where he led me, I was surrounded by Scotty and three other friends. My head bent, their bodies close to mine, they all blew smoke into my hair, over and over again. And just like that, I felt better.

    Relaxed, I nestled on the floor. PrincessA sat in a chair behind me. Softly, tenderly, she caressed my head and pulled on my hair. I let myself float on the feeling of her hands in my curls.

    As I sat, having falling into the atmosphere of the gathering, a friend asked if I would black their boots. For a tip, their girl offered up his ashes to me. I assured her she did not need to tip me, but she insisted all the same. I accepted her gesture with gratitude.

    As I worked on his leather, I took my time, giving care and attention to his boots. He blew smoke into my hair and onto my skin. After I finished, he and his girl thanked me for my efforts, saying his boots looked almost new. He then offered up his ash as my compensation. I ate it from his hand gratefully.

    Finished with my first pair of boots, I turned to PrincessA and worked on her leather. As I gave her boots attention, I realized I felt right again. Whereas before I had been sorrowful, dejected, once again I felt the care and love of my friends. I felt like I belonged.

  • Aftercare

    We were all wiped. It wasn’t even two hours into the After Grue when Inretrepida and I spoke of leaving. I dutifully sat in a comfy chair, scribbling out notes from my day and my time with Gray and Symetrie, yet I actively worked to not fall asleep.

    Just as our duo was about to depart, a saint emerged with sustenance. Pulling out coloring books and crayons, Inretrepida and I squealed. I put my notebook aside and joined a small group of Grue-mates on the floor.

    There was a My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic book, so I immediately picked a Fluttershy picture. (She is my favorite.) Working together, Inretrepida and I colored the picture. I focused on the massive amount of hair, choosing a red and pink color palate. Inretrepida shaded the rest.

    As we colored, we chatted with our Grue-mate, speaking on littles activities and the fun of our day. Once Inretrepida and I finished our masterpiece (because yes, it was that awesome), we decided I would keep it. (For those who are interested, later, when I had a moment, I took a picture of our art and posted it on my Twitter feed. Happy hunting.)

    Exhausted, Inretrepida and I departed. Once again, back to the Naked House, I imparted my adventures to PrincessA in bed before we both passed out.

    The next morning was made for Grue-cakes.

    I woke up, still exhausted, feeling like I’d run into a wall. Inretrepida picked me up and drove us back to the space. As she made her way down to the basement, I stayed in the kitchen. I could see through the oven door bacon, delicious delicious bacon, cooking.

    Gray, in his customary chef’s kilt, came upstairs to encourage folks to come downstairs and eat Grue-cakes.

    “But… there’s bacon.”
    “No bacon unless you come downstairs.”

    I relented.

    Descending, I saw many people in a similar state as mine, lounging about wiped from their previous day. Coming upon the food, I filled my plate with eggs, sausages, and Grue-cakes, and then found a spot on the floor next to Inretrepida, who sat on a couch.

    On a large television screen to my left Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-Long Blog played. As per the name, many people were indeed singing along.

    After my first round of food, bacon finally arrived. I happily ate the delicious delicious pork.

    After Dr. Horrible, keeping to an apparent theme, Repo: The Genetic Opera was put on. It was… different.

    As I sat on the floor, with most everyone’s belly full, Gray took some time to relax. He laid his head in my lap while I stroke his hair, and he nuzzled Symetrie with his feet. She, in turn, was receiving a back massage from a fellow Grue-mate.

    As the morning wound on, people veered outside on the back patio for cigars and more chats.

    And then it was time for hugs. Gray was riding with Rough and they had to leave right after brunch. I said my farewells to them, knowing I would see them soon.

    As the house emptied, Inretrepida and I contemplated staying a bit longer. There was to be a grappling get together, but we opted to leave. Later that night there would be cigars, boots, chocolate, and more time to commiserate.

  • Closing

    We all gathered back where we’d started, again amassing in the basement living room. I sat by the front this time, nestling on the floor. We assembled in a circle, everyone looking at one another.

    Gray stood by the front again, all the sheets of paper with the class names in his hands. One-by-one he read off all the classes we’d presented. Flogging, canes, hitting people with swords. Tantra, formal place setting, knife play, blood play. Cigars, ass fucking, kissing, female orgasms. Fisting, video games, breath play. Whips, fear play, some rope, discussions of the public scene, and even a ten minute walk thrown in. In total, thirty one classes were given.

    We did all this. We presented our passions, shared our love for these parts of ourselves with the people in this home and in those moments.

    After a full day of classes, of effort, of hard work and fun, now it was time to take a moment to speak.

    As we went around the circle, one-by-one people thanked others for their passions, for the time they took, for sharing themselves, for opening up, for showing others things they’d never seen before.

    Some were pleased to have had such a great time without having to present. I was happy to have been one of those in the front, putting myself out there, giving light to passions I wanted to share.

    As each person spoke, I was just able to keep my tears at bay. My day was a great high, a flying soaring roller coaster of moment after moment. And now I was crashing. Now our day was coming to an end.

    I almost felt the need to run around hugging everyone there or for us all to hold hands and sing kumbaya or something.

    “And I can now say this: You have all been eaten by a Grue.”

    Gray dismissed us to dinner, a two hour break before we would all be back. That night, as part of the come down, was the party afterwards. It was appropriately named the After Grue.

    With such a short time, Inretrepida thought it best to stay near the house. The only thing was my After Grue attire was still at The Naked House. With my apologies and reassurance from my ride that it was fine, we settled on food, a quick trip back for my things, and rushing back for as much time as we could get for play.

    With three more of our friends in the car, we first tried a chicken place, a mere fifteen minute drive away; fifty minute wait. Strolling around the corner, we then tried a supper club. I had visions of steak and potatoes. Alas, forty-five minute wait. Walking some more we found an Indian restaurant. We were seated immediately.

    As we waited for our food, I gulped down water. When my lamb finally arrived, I ate it hungrily. About half way through my meal, I realized a slight flaw. My food was somewhat spicy, and I had no idea whether or not there would be cigar play later that evening.

    With a sigh, I replied, “I’ll eat ash for Gray or Rough. I’ll take pain if I like you enough.”

    Of course one of my friends pointed out the rhymed.

    After dinner, with a general fatigue setting in, we hurried to The Naked House. I ran inside, grabbed my things, and just as quickly I made my way outside and back into the car.

    We arrived at the After Grue about an hour after its start.

  • Full Contact Improv

    “An orgy without sex.”

    “Free form modern dance.”

    “Presense through movement and touch.”

    I couldn’t completely trust. I couldn’t completely let go. I couldn’t completely extend my arm.

    The exercise was simple: let your partner take your weight. I held Inretrepida’s hand and leaned back, but there was a bend in my elbow. Gray had instructed us all to fully entend their arms, trusting that our partner would be able to balance and take our weight.

    With Inretrepida and myself right up in front on the wrestling mats, he came over and pointed out my caution. He instructed me to full extend my arm. And I did… for about a second. He called out my hesistance, but still moved on.

    We all sat in a circle. This exercise would be a round robin. With two people inside, they would dance, allowing themselves to move with the pressure and point of contacts of their bodies. When one person felt it was time, they would ease out of the center and another person would enter, continuing the dance.

    As we began, Gray started with one of the students. The pass came. Gray eased out and another eased in. And then the second pass happened. And then the third. Inretrepida, who had sat beside me, flowed into the movements. She, along with the other person in the middle, seemed adrift in a beautiful synchronized flow. Their interaction lasted longer than the others.

    Gray then felt it was time. He opened up the dance, encouraging everyone to start however they felt. I looked left and then right. All of a sudden pairs and triads formed, bodies moving to some unknown beat. And there I sat, alone, no one close to me.

    I felt lost, out of sorts. I didn’t know how to enter, when or where to enter. I didn’t know how to begin. And just when I thought I would slip away, just when I contemplated leaving the mat and never being a part of the dance, Gray extended out towards me. Feeling him as a point of contact, I glided into the movements.

    Throughout my time on the mat, as soon as Gray eased me in, I made myself close my eyes. If I didn’t, I knew I would think too much, knew I would over analyze, trying to find the right move to make, the best way to go somewhere. I knew I needed to not think, but instead be. I knew I needed to let go.

    As we moved, I could hear breathing, feel flesh, and let myself fall into movement and presence. I remember my back against anothers, my hand and forearm against anothers, my head against anothers. I remember my breathing, full and deep. I remember the feeling of being fully in my body.

    And then somehow, naturally, the dance ended with most of us either sitting or slumped on the mats, breathing hard and tired.

  • Almost Gone

    It happened in an instant.

    I was teaching my first class of the Grue, a presentation centered on cigar play from the bottom’s perspective. Gray consented to helping me, taking on the role of my demo top. We had already demonstrated a few fun aspects of play (smoke kiss, smoke rise, and eating ash) when Gray noted he had more ash to give.

    Since I’d already eaten ash out of another’s hand, Gray asked if anyone else was interested in tasting the treat. My students didn’t seem eager.

    And then I volunteered my chest. Inretrepida piped right up.

    However there were two problems. One, we were outside. I couldn’t just take off my shirt for fear of snoopy neighbors. Two, the shirt I wore had a button up collar but did not completely open down the front.

    Fixing the conundrum took a group effort. Gray held open the collar of my shirt. Rough held my necklace out of the way. Gray then spread the ash across my exposed chest and Inretrepida licked up the flecks.

    This was, once again, one of my Minnesota moments where I felt spoiled. In that moment, my life absolutely did not suck.

    But just as quickly it all tumbled away.

    When the group stepped back, happy and gleeful from the experience, I sat up straight. Inretrepida had ash on her lips, so I took her head in my hands and licked it off.

    And then I could feel it as it happened, yet I had no control to stop it. My necklace slipped from my neck onto the patio floor. Thankfully the chain mail caught on my Zim jacket, which I had been sitting on during my class. But my pendant and ring, which normally hung from the necklace, slipped through the wooden slats and landed under the patio.

    “Oh no!” I cried. Tears welled in my eyes as I scurried off the patio and under the deck.

    I saw the pendant through the slats when it first fell. With the assistance of one of my students, I was able to easily retrieve it. But then I realized the ring was missing too. Thankfully he saw it as well and pointed it out as I crawled over prickly wood to grab it.

    Back on the patio, I remade my necklace. Chain mail again around my neck, my relative’s ring and my Love pendant again kissing my skin, I felt right with the world again.

    Sometimes I forget how attached I am to my necklace. It is a symbol of me, kink me, all of me. People have recognized me just from the metal around my neck.

    On occasion that reality feels cumbersome, like a weight bringing me down. But in those moments, I reassure myself that my necklace is a symbol of my choosing. I can always take it off and set it to the side, a symbol of me I can pick up and put down at any time.

    But when it fell, when it was almost gone, the realization that so much of me is associated with those pieces of metal came crashing into me.

    I own me. That necklace is a subtle way of me projecting my own personal power over my life. And that symbol was almost taken away.

    For a moment, I felt lost. For a moment, I was so near to crying an ocean of tears. For a moment, I felt like a part of me was almost gone.

  • Passions

    We arrived five minutes early, groggy but excited. Inretrepida gave me a ride Saturday morning from The Naked House to the Grue, for which I was quite grateful. Otherwise I would’ve had to take three buses for about one and a half hours.

    As we entered we deposited our shoes to the left and deposited ourselves to the right on a nearby couch. As more people filtered in, we crept downstairs for food: bagels, yogurt, juice, tea, and coffee.

    I returned to my comfy couch and chatted with folks as they arrived. Soon, though, we were encouraged to make our way downstairs. It was almost time to start.

    As I stood in the back leaning against a wall, Gray approached.

    “Are you planning on teaching today?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good, then I’ll use you as an example.” Always happy to be used.

    With all the attendees ensconced in the couches and floor space of the basement, Gray began. He stood in front of a bookcase draped by a white sheet with various pieces of paper naming different spaces in the house taped to it. Otherwise it was blank. This, he explained, was our schedule.  We were going to create our day.

    “Think about something you’re passionate about. Hold that thought.”

    And then his example began.  Gray pointed to me, saying I would demonstrate the process for adding a class to the schedule as he narrated.

    First, I pondered what I was passionate about. Putting my finger to my lips, I looked up and away, searching for my idea. And then it came to me. A smile burst onto my lips as my finger swung from my mouth and pointed to the sky, proclaiming my idea.

    With the thought for my class acquired, I scurried to a coffee table full of pre-cut pieces of paper and sharpies. Selecting a piece of paper and a marker, I wrote the name for my class – Calling All Ashtrays: Cigar play from the bottom’s perspective. Gray read the name for my class as I wrote it. Affixing two pieces of tape to my piece of paper, I chose a time slot and spot for my class.

    With my example now finished, Gray opened up any and every one to add their classes to the schedule. I stepped back and watched as people filled the white sheet with their passions.

    On my way back to my spot, Gray quickly spoke to me, saying if I wanted to teach another class I could. Since he mentioned it, I decided I would. Heading back to the table, I wrote on another piece of paper – Fingering 401: Fisting is Fun! I then added my second class to the schedule.

    Almost immediately, there were changes to the schedule. I wanted to go to Inretrepida’s Self Suspension class, so I moved my cigar play class back. Gray wanted to attend one of my classes and another presentation in the same time slot; more switching. Once everyone was happy and assured they would be able to not only teach their classes but attend the one’s they found interesting, we settled back down.

    With everyone’s passions listed, and everyone ready to go, Gray sent us off to share and learn.

  • Meet & Greet

    When I reached the top of the stairs and entered the restaurant’s second floor lounge, his back was to me.

    For a moment, I thought I shouldn’t immediately go up and say hi. He was, after all, working, and he seemed to be busy talking with Symetrie, a woman I briefly met at Shibaricon.

    But just as quickly I thought, Fuck that. I tapped him on his arm and he turned towards me.

    “Hi.”
    “Hi!” Gray gave me a big hug. “I didn’t know you were coming to the Grue.”
    “Really? Cause I joined the Fet group and it’s on my page.”
    “FetLife? I don’t look at people’s pages.”

    Well there you go. For once, I surprised him.

    He introduced Symetrie; we were re-acquainted. I then stepped away for a much needed drink after my day’s trek and placed my dinner order. My cider obtained, I mingled about greeting Minnesota friends and making new ones.

    Easing my way over to Gray again, he asked me who I knew in the room. Funny enough, Gray happened to be standing next to someone I sort of knew.

    “Hi. We haven’t actually met yet. I’m poetic.”
    “Yes,” said Roughinamorato, pointing towards my heart. “I recognize the necklace.”

    Rough looked just as I remembered him, having watched him play back at Shibaricon. This time, though, was the first time I saw his face up close.

    Chatting again with Gray, I pointed out different people in the room I knew. There were only a handful.

    And then I felt arms wrap around me. Turning, I immediately squeed, hugged, and kissed Inretrepida tight. My attention shifted to her, catching up on all that had happened in the six months since my initial visit.

    As we spoke, my food arrived. I sat at a high top table next to where we stood, continuing our conversation. When Inretrepida needed to walk away, I stayed seated opting to let whatever people and conversations that so chose to float towards me.

    As I enjoyed my fried rice chatting with folks, Rough drifted next to me. With now five of us around the small table, funny and interesting topics pinged back and forth. I finally got to listen to Rough speak. I was pleased he shared a similar sense of humor.

    Yelling above the din, Gray quieted the crowd for a moment for a few quick announcements: the start time for breakfast (8:30am), the approximate start time for the Grue (9:30am), and the introduction of the Grue-nomicon.

    The Grue-nomicon, for those who don’t know, is a moleskin journal containing quotes from every Grue. Anything anyone found witty, interesting, or funny Gray asked us to then jot into the Grue-nomicon.

    “For instance, Rough, say something funny.”

    I loved the look of what-the-fuck-I-don’t-know on Rough’s face.

    Of course, Gray sat the Grue-nomicon in front of me. As conversations picked back up, quite soon I picked up the pen and started jotting down quotes.

    “What? I’m a writer,” I said as I wrote down three funny lines from my table within ten minutes.

    Gray then eased over towards myself and Rough, leaning against our two chairs.

    “I can tell you two this joke. You’ll still like me even though it’s horrible.”

    And it was. And we did.

    Sitting there, my Minnesota friends in the room, Gray and Rough next to me, I felt quite spoiled. Little did I know how fun my night would get.

  • Bravery Accomplished

    “Ah… fuck me!”

    When my alarm woke me up from my nap, I was grumpy. For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was. For a moment, all I knew was that I wanted to go back to sleep.

    And then I remembered I was at Shibaricon. And then I remembered I was going to a cigars, boots, and chocolate social.

    Pulling myself out of bed, I hastily took a shower and assembled my outfit for the night, an iteration of my school girl uniform with the addition of my boots.

    With my bootblack kit and hoodie (in case of chill) in tow, I headed downstairs. I was fashionably late as I exited the lobby onto the private patio.

    Though there was much room, unfortunately the patio was long but not very wide. It was rather like a large hallway that was missing one and a half walls. Still there were friends in attendance, smoke in the air, and bootblacks already hard at work. I set my kit aside, pulled out my cigar accoutrement, and breezed my way through the crowd giving greetings.

    “Hey pretty girl,” said Gray as I passed by him and many other seated gentleman. I smiled, then paused for a moment.

    “Hmm…?”

    “What? You’re a pretty girl.” He casually rubbed my thigh and ass.

    Was that on purpose or just a coincidence? I didn’t want to know.

    Moving past the awkward moment (which I will explain towards the end of this month), I continued to mingle.

    Surprisingly, happily, I saw a familiar face. Even in the dim light, it was still easy to recognize NHF. He, along with other folks from Minnesota, had made the trek to Chicago.

    With a stick ready to smoke, NHF allowed me to give service as I helped him light his cigar. We got to chatting about Shibaricon and our lives in general. I mentioned Doc and Green Eyes, wallowing & dancing. He praised me for my openness.

    Feeling brave, I inquired about his dance card. He said it was mostly empty. We agreed on a play date for the next night, after the Cabaret.

    With a head of ash now atop his cigar, NHF granted me the pleasure of eating it from his hand. Without missing a beat, we fell right into the D/s dynamic we’d had on my last night in St. Paul, the last time I’d seen him, the first time we’d met.

    Grabbing my hair, he guided my head to his palm. Completely covering my mouth, I ate my treat from his hand. He then allowed me a modicum of freedom to move my face about as I liked and sucked his palm.

    NHF turned out to be the appetizer for my evening. With official introductions given, I was granted the pleasure of eating from both of Gray’s female companions’ hands. Then Jocasta, a wonderful woman who gifted me not only rope but cigar boxes in our last encounter, also offered her ash to me. Lastly Lochai, ever the dirty man, served up his ash on the chest of one of his girls. I was able to share my treat with her as our lips both tasted his flecks in a kiss. To end my ash eating, Lochai granted me a smoke kiss.

    As I drifted away from the seated group, I found myself back next to NHF. Once again feeling bold, I asked if he could grant me the pleasure of his smoke in my hair. As he got closer, very close, I felt the heat both from his breath and his body against me.

    We stood, me in front of him. My ass near his crotch. His hands on my hips. I found myself needing to bend down for things. My water bottle. My chocolate. Each time I presented my ass. Once his hand slipped under my skirt, caressing my ass, the touch I had hoped for through my nonverbal hints.

    As more people filtered in and out, MattP and Inretrepida arrive. As we chatted, NHF decided to sit down and invited me to relax next to him. In doing so, I knew this brought us back to the same level; the D/s moment had ended.

    Well, mostly.

    When a student from my cigar play class approached, I knew I had just what she needed: an Acid Blondie. It had been gifted to me earlier that day, and now I was gifting it to her.

    With my preferred gateway cigar, I demonstrated to her the service/ritual aspects I’d talked about in class. I removed the cellophane, took off the band, wet & cut the end, and offered the tobacco back to her. As she held it, I produced my flame. Her stick lit, I again reminded her to not inhale.

    Soon she had a head of ash ready for my consumption. Her hand out, my treat before me, my face was soon in her palm. As I ate her ash, I felt a familiar hand in my hair.

    “You’d better eat that ash right.”

    NHF’s voice in my ear made this new experience I gave to my student so much hotter, at least for me.

    My treat finished, NHF’s hand slipped from my strands. We all went back to chatting. The D/s moment had passed. But I still had a play date set for the next evening.

    Bravery accomplished.

  • Poetic’s Class

    “Is there anything else you could use to wet the cigar?”
    “Why yes, there is.”

    It had been on my mind for quite some time. Would I? Could I? Should I?

    I’d even thought of a fun name, spunky and cute, yah know like me.

    But then came the nerves. The self doubt.

    I’ll just be a student today; I don’t need to present. I’ll learn so much from all the people here; my voice isn’t needed.

    But when the white board still had open spots, when the opportunity flashed itself in front of me, I couldn’t just let it go.

    Still, there was the logistical problem.

    “Gray, should I put up a class?”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s cigar play.”
    “Make it a discussion.”

    I quickly got up, got a piece of paper from Lqqkout, hastily scribbled down Cigar Play – poeticdesires, and added my passion to the board. (So much for the spunky name.)

    After some rearranging, I was slated for 4:30pm in section 6 of the main room. Before flitting off to demo bottom for my first class, my friend Scotty approached.

    “I’ll help you with the cigar play class.”
    “Great!”

    And then the moment came.

    Funny enough, for the previous class session, I attended Inretrepida’s Can You Tie Your Shoes? Great, Let’s Have A Rope Scene in the same section of the ballroom where I would be teaching. Slut took pleasure in tying me up, pulling my hair, beating me, and sucking on my nipples. Quite a great way to warm up for my class.

    As people cycled in and out of the rooms, I set my stuff to the side and pulled up a chair. Scotty also arrived and pulled up a seat.

    “Oh, the chair I got was for you.”

    I put my chair to the side. He sat in his seat while I took my place on the floor. We began.

    Cigar play is the one kink I exclusively bottom to, so with Scotty there, I felt the discussion would be complete. He would give the top’s perspective and I would speak for the bottoms.

    I introduced myself, as did Scotty, and then I started talking about my passion. I spoke about smoke, heat, and ash. I discussed safety hazards and tips for cigar bottoms. I went over three catergories of play: ritual, service, and submission.

    And, of course, a few of my friends were in attendance, namely Gray & TwistedView. I’m not sure if they were hecklers or shills.

    For their enjoyment, and the others in the class, I demonstrated how to wet the end of a cigar.

    “Is there anything else you could use to wet the cigar?” Gray asked.
    “Why yes, there is.”

    I mentioned how I could’ve used my pussy juices, but Scotty and I are not fluid bonded. There was also the suggestion of blood. And semen. This section was an interesting turn in our conversation.

    As our time ran out, and everyone had to depart, I of course pimped an event that evening, Cigars, Boots, and Chocolate. It felt like I was giving people homework, but more fun. Hmm… maybe it was more like extra credit.

    People dispersed. I flitted off to another class.

    But, for a shiny thirty minutes, I got to speak about my passion. I sat in front of a group of people and talked to them about a subject I knew and loved.

    For once, instead of being the Teacher’s Pet, I was the presenter.

  • Fifteen Hours

    I arrived at my airport, about thirty minutes early, at 8am. I texted PrincessA, grabbed my bags, and settled into a seat to crochet and wait for my ride.

    After PrincessA picked me up, we headed to breakfast. It felt odd calling our meal breakfast because I’d been up for so long. Then again I hadn’t ever actually gone to bed, so no matter what we called the delicious food we ate, it was going to seem odd to me.

    We sat in a corner table by the front of the cafe and chatted. PrincessA, on the ride towards food, remarked how it was odd and awesome that the majority of our friendship had been developed through letters. We’d met at Dark Odyssey Fusion last summer, interacting some but not as much as we would have liked. So, instead, we’ve been writing each other ever since.

    Sitting, eating, we now had so much time to talk. We chatted for hours about so many topics: our families, our coming out stories, kink in general, kink in Minnesota, the people I would meet, her rough plans for what would happen in my few days visiting, our fuzzy plans for life, tiny humans (one was sitting at the table next to us, so very cute eating pieces of a broken up blueberry muffin). It was awesome just to get to talk to her.

    Checking the time, though, we had to go. Shibari & Sushi awaited.

    Once at her home, we heaved my bags into the foyer. Taking my huge black bag to the living room, I opened it to find a small bag of popcorn had exploded inside. Thankfully the popcorn, being neither wet nor sticky, was an amusing teeny tiny annoyance. Rifling through all my toys and toiletries, I created my rope bag.

    [Side Note: I find it hilarious that my travel toy bag is SO huge and heavy. I brought almost everything; no humidor, but I have my lighter and cutter. I plan to buy a few sticks while I’m here, as well as when I get to California, though.]

    PrincessA grabbed her toy bag, as well as a snack and things for work, and we were off. Driving from one twin city to the other, we arrived at Inretrepida’s home. She was the host of Sushi & Shibari, a monthly gathering of Minnesota rope-y folk.

    PrincessA introduced me to those in attendance, as well as meeting a few folks herself. Taking a quick tour, we made our way to the downstairs dungeon. The floor was firm foam (+1), there was a spanking bench (+2), a cross with attachment points (+3), school desks (+4), and a hard point (+5).

    It was a rather excellent space…except for the cats. There were two of them. I could smell the hazards as soon as I walked down the steps. I, unfortunately, am allergic to cat hair.

    Still, I wanted to play. PrincessA and I negotiated a simple scene, opting for floor work. I secured her wrists behind her back, tied a simple chest harness, and frogged legged both of her lower limbs.

    I then attacked PrincessA’s left thigh, punching relentlessly. We found ourselves rolling on the floor as she desperately tried to get away from my blows. Over and over, I attacked her thigh mercilessly, laughing as she struggled.

    Once she called me a Top, which got me surprisingly mad. I told her I was topping her, but I was not ‘a Top’. I am a switch. I sat on her and asked if she wanted to call me a Top again as I continued to punch her one thigh.

    As we rolled around, her chest harness and unharmed leg’s bindings loosened. I pulled off their ropes, but her wrists and other frog leg remained intact, which was all I needed. Her skin grew red from my beating.

    Soon, though, we had to stop. She laid back on the floor, breathing. I untied her leg and sat beside her, in case she needed anything.

    PrincessA asked to have the discarded rope draped across her body. She breathed and rested. She turned to me and asked if she could kiss my feet. I said she could. She smiled and kissed them, snuggling up next to me. She then sat up and asked for her wrists to be untied. I released them, and she rest her head on my knee. I stroked her hair.

    PrincessA stood and scurried upstairs, saying she would return. I sat with my rope and began watching the other scenes happening around me: a delicious looking cake with lots of frosting to lick off; Inretrepida and a beautiful woman in a rope suspension; a Sir and his submissive playing with pain and pleasure.

    When PrincessA returned, she sat in my lap. I hugged her from behind and laid my head on her back. We stayed there for a few minutes before she had to go to work.

    Gathering her things, PrincessA said her byes, but she would not be separated from us for long. The Sushi portion of Sushi and Shibari was to be at her work, where she would be our server.

    With PrincessA away, I relaxed back into the play atmosphere, deciding I wanted to suspend myself. As I prepped my lines, Inretrepida saw what I was to do and asked if I wanted to see her modified gunslinger harness. I happily asked for her to demonstrate it as I tied my chest and hip harnesses, always wanting to learn something new.

    When she finished, she decided she too wanted to self suspend, and headed downstairs. I stepped under my point and rigged myself up.

    swimmy. My legs configured differently with the ankle rope, able to move and shift more than in my previous self suspensions. I liked the change and decided to keep it for later play.

    MattP, whose rig I was playing on, came up and saw my work. He cautioned my moving, seeing as I was close to a wall. I decided he was right, and let myself down. I was already high and happy.

    I slowly gathered my things and headed back downstairs, still quite floaty.

    However, since I didn’t feel close to anyone in attendance, I had no one to ask for hugs or cuddles for aftercare. I came down slower than normal, curled up in a corner by the stairs.

    I watched as Inretrepida rigged herself, smiling at her work. As she finished, she sat in a chair close to me and began an electricity scene, receiving the attention of a Violet Wand and a mean mean man.

    My inner voyeur was happy to have both Inretrepida’s scene, as well as some interesting foot and calf bondage across the room, to watch. Later, when Inretrepida’s scene ended, there was talk of possible cigar play at PrincessA’s house before I leave for San Francisco (fingers crossed).

    As the day rolled into evening, it was soon time to go. Inretrepida let me use her shower so I could wash cat dander off of me. I also used disinfectant wipes on my ropes, just in case.

    My things gathered, I sat in the living room chatting with folks. There was an entire Pokemon conversation that I merely smiled and nodded for, the only reference I understood being Picachew. But, thankfully, an Inception conversation began which I was able to follow. (Thank you JEJ.)

    With everyone’s things gathered, and the house reset, we all hopped into cars and headed for food. We were a party of twenty that slowly filtered into a tiny sushi restaurant. Taking over the front tables, we weren’t too loud and kept our kinky talk (mostly) at normal volume levels.

    Because half of us pre-ordered, PrincessA and staff had some food ready for us. I tasted ginger beer for the first time (yum), and greatly enjoyed my rather large meal. The company was lovely. There was talk of Kink 1001 next weekend, as well as possible plans for future events (Shibaricon, Rope Camp, etc.).

    Soon, though, it grew late. As people now filtered out, I strained to keep my eyes open. PrincessA still had to clean up, so she gave me her house key. I hugged folks bye, each wishing me good travels and lots of fun while I was in Minnesota. MattP gave me a ride to PrincessA’s house; I blinked and we were there.

    I brought some stuff up to her room. She, too, lived with cats, but they weren’t allowed in her space. After fumbling with my things, figuring out something to wear to bed, and finally brushing my teeth, I plugged my phone in to charge, softly played a Jack Johnson album, and passed out around 11pm.