Like a Brisket, Part Seven

Penthouse had put The Prodigy into one of these sorts of harnesses and she asserted that she wanted to try to get out of it herself. Unlike mine, which was apparently more for function, The Prodigy’s ropework was really more for aesthetic and could, with some working, but wriggled out of.

I, on the other hand, only got out when someone finally let me out when I had to go to the bathroom. When I returned, The Prodigy was still trying to squirm her way out and Penthouse had shown Craftsmate how to use the rope to make cuffs that cinched tighter when the person inside pulled on them.

A little while later, I wound up inside of them with my arms behind my back as we cheered on The Prodigy as she worked the loops down her arms.

“Now, see, you can make her do this,” Penthouse grabbed the extra rope on the end of my cuffs and pulled my arms up so I bent forward. I kicked back at him playfully. “Or, if you got her on the ground, you could hogtie her pretty easily.”

I guess I don’t have to explain to you all how I wound up a little bit later.

The thing about hogties with that tie is that if you struggle even a little bit, your wrists get tighter. And, so, I was stuck that way, trying to get comfortable on the rug while The Prodigy crossed an hour of being stuck trying to get out of the harness and Penthouse went to go get his riding crop.

Like a Brisket, Part Five

So, once I had gotten free, the fourth and final member of our minimunch arrived. For reasons that will be later revealed, I’m going to call her The Prodigy. She had not been feeling well and had considered not even coming and, while the atmosphere with Craftsmate and Penthouse was pretty chill, I was glad she had decided to join our group. The gender balance and the presence of someone who did not read my tumblr was nice.

We introduced ourselves and small-talked a bit until the subject of me having broken out of Penthouse’s robe’s belt came up. I said I thought I had learned the knot from breaking out of it and proceeded to demonstrate on Penthouse. While I hadn’t wanted to bite my way out, he had no shame in leaning down and using is teeth to get out of there in two seconds.

We all decided we wanted to check out the nearby farmer’s market and head to the liquor store. I’m not totally sure why it happened, but Penthouse wound up tying Craftsmate’s wrists the way he had just tied mine and I had tied his. And, so, we wound up walking through the farmer’s market with Craftsmate’s wrists tied in front of him, laughing as he struggled to get his wallet out.

“So,” Penthouse asked me when The Prodigy and Craftsmate were out of earshot, “is this going to wind up on your tumblr? Be one of those big eight-posters or something?”

I chuckled and shook my head, “shut up.”

At the liquor store, Craftsmate decided to be silly and ask two salespeople for these ridiculous foreign bitters with his hands still tied in front with the robe belt. Finally, the second salesperson to help him out exclaimed, “is this some sort of a game?” To which Penthouse replied, “yes, and I’m winning.”

Strangely, in comparison to the incident at the sewing supplies store, I wasn’t embarrassed at all. I suppose it was just how silly and innocuous it all was.

So, if any of you saw a couple of giggling kids with a friend with his hands tied in front at your neighborhood farmer’s market or liquor store, now you know what’s up.

Like a Brisket, Part Two

Naturally, the old shame reflex kicked in fairly soon into the afternoon when Craftsmate took out a cuff he’d made to show us at the table during lunch and I all but ran away right there.

When, after lunch, we went to a sewing supply store to pick up supplies for the kinky arts and crafts component of the mini-munch, I essentially put my sunglasses on and tried to hide when Penthouse and Craftsmate stood there and loudly discussed d-rings. I nearly died right there when Craftsmate took the cuff out again to compare.

“Oh, would you calm down?” Penthouse said when he saw me hiding by the iron-ons. “We’re right near (neighborhood synonymous with some pretty alternative lifestyles), everyone here’s kinky. For God’s sake, they keep the rope next to the clothespins and rubber straps at the Home Depot near here. They know their customers.”

And, yeah, logically, I can look at the situation and know that nobody cares. But, I still felt out of my element and I felt a huge tug on my impulse to feel ashamed and anxious. Craftsmate had joked the other day that online I was a “gung ho goddess with a rapper attitude” about all this, but in person I was awkward as all get-out about kink. With almost all of my kinky interactions being incredibly private and in the context of a relationship, I was very much out of my element in this setting.

So, I was endlessly relieved when we left the store to head to Penthouse’s place.

Like a Brisket, Part One

So, Craftsmate and I met up with his kinky friend from high school who now goes to a different Ivy than us just in time for lunch. I had found out that morning that the girl from Ivy University who was supposed to be joining us was going to be a few hours late and that fact made me a little anxious. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Craftsmate or his friend, but I figured it was a little awkward to sort of be sandwiched between two people who’ve read my blog with no neutral party.

“So, is pizza okay by you?” Craftsmate’s friend, who I’ll call Penthouse (and assure you all, on his behalf, that we all had a ton of trouble coming up with a nickname for and I promise it’s less urban elite than it sounds, really), asked.

I laughed. “Have you not read my blog?” I figured I should at least hit the awkward on the head early in the afternoon. Acknowledge the facts and move on. I had already dispelled most of the discomfort with Craftsmate through this method.

“Seriously,” Craftsmate chimed in, “she’s big on pizza.”

“I don’t read it as a food blog!” Penthouse exclaimed. "Besides, if it were a food blog, it would be about two foods.“

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Been There, Done That.

Craftsmate: I want to try out this new flogger on you.
Me: My only concern is marking up my thighs all over again.
Craftsmate: I mean, I could do it on your back or your ass.
Me: With the other people around? I don’t exactly want to show a bunch of strangers my ass.
Craftsmate: …
Craftsmate: thinkivykink.tumblr.com
Me: God, I hate you.

So, tomorrow, that guy from my school who found my tumblr and later flogged me (I’m going to call him Craftsmate. Because he does kinky arts and crafts and he’s my classmate.) and I are attending this teensy tiny four-person munch that is going to consist of him, one of his friends from another Ivy who actually found me independent of Craftsmate and has been reading my tumblr for a while now (oy), and one of his kinky friends from Ivy University who has no idea who I am and has no idea about my tumblr (whew).

I’ve never munched before so I’m like actually nervous but sort of excited. I don’t want to be totally public about my proclivities or the fact that I am the proprietress of thinkivykink, but I think this could be good for me. The fact that it’s only four people, all my age, all from my school or somewhere similar, is actually a relief.

So, yeah, here’s to trying new things.

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©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#510)

It’s important to behave well. Even at picnics.