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The monkey and I have joined our local dungeon/play space. We went to orientation earlier this week where we toured the facility (but didn't play because the monkey had forgotten his ID), and last night, we used the place for the first time.

I should mention that when I met the monkey two years ago, playing in public was very much a hard limit. I wouldn't say "very much." Some time at a fetish con, and living with a few kink-friendly people have changed that somewhat, but a new place with new people is still a stressful experience.

We got there around eight, after having dinner with incredibly slow service in a normally-good Mexican chain, but the monkey was having a bizarre personal fixation problem: he wanted a new pair of shoes, because he's been stubbing his toes rather a lot lately. In fact, he had been obsessing over this for most of the evening, despite the fact that I felt he wouldn't be wearing them most of the time. In my own entry I'll explain this. Anyway, after signing in, we ran out again to do this:we were in an unfamiliar area, and finding a shoe store proved rather stressful. We eventually found a PayLess, but I'm generally not a fan since they tend to fall apart. The monkey did his usual retail-female-uncertainty thing, trying on several pairs of open-toed things and mid-height heels (I did not try on any open-toed, and I wasn't being uncertain I was trying to find a pair that fit) (neither of which would do anything to offset the accident-proneness), and we eventually settled on a nice set of male dress shoes for him.

I got him back to the playspace, stripped him to his underwear, took his glasses, and put him into a small floor-cage while I went and used the bathroom. I took out some toys and laid them out on a chair and on top of the cage, and went and attached one half of our suspension cuffs to some ceiling-chains that were nearby. I exposed his back, and his butt, and got going.

However, after bare-handing him a few times, I started to see the angry expression: the expression that shows the monkey's going to break, going to snap and take an alternate, Sybil-like tone, and get aggressive with me. He growled a few times. I pushed a bit, encouraged him to communicate more, told him it could stop any time, and we kept going. I used a crop, a rod (both very nice things), as well as both of my deerskin floggers on him. (I love this new flogger, it's just so pretty. I really need to put a picture of it up here at some point.1.) He told me that his arms were tired (I said my shoulders were starting to hurt and I'm trying to be more conscious of such things since I've started regularly going to a chiropractor), and he needed something to lean against, and I moved him over to a very heavy St. Andrews Cross: really well made, with adjustable restraint points. I put the suspension cuffs up on those, and as his tits were just straddling the "X", put a set of clamps on those as well, so if he backed off, the chain would tug. I continued flogging, quite hard, with the Big Flogger, really developing a good rhythm and form.2, moving along to my other toys, the rubber one occasionally, covering his entire back side pretty well. I wasn't going for catharsis or anything like that, but it got to the point where I could hear him sobbing, and I looked and found his nose runny. I got him some tissues and let him down, and after some brief cleanup we headed to the "cooldown area", a lounge of sorts, and met some of the group. The timeline there is a little messed up. I was crying a good portion of the time I was on the cross, the Top knew and asked me if I wanted to continue and I said I did.

I cannot express enough how awesome and comfortable these people made me feel. While I of course don't mention names (hell, even our own), it was a very friendly, fun crowd, easily relatable, and very accommodating. I got a chance to play show and tell with our suspension cuffs, and tell brag about the deal we got on them, and the like.

After some others proceeded in for another round of playing, we did too. This time we wound up in the "medical play" room, where I tied the monkey to a stirrup table with a plethora of a rope, put a spreader bar between his legs, and gagged him with a roll of vetwrap (as in, just popped the roll in his mouth). This is the condensed version. A few people walked through the room while we were going at it, all were respectful, none conversed unless I started it, but I tend to like over-the-shoulder conversation. At one point, a couple giving a tour peeked quietly in. The Top waved at them. It was very surreal.

We hadn't brought any lube, or a vibrator, unfortunately: I had told the monkey to, but he had felt that he wouldn't be at that level of comfort on this trip. Consequently the only lube we had was some SurgiLube that was already there, and I worked him up for what was probably close to 45 minutes before he dried out and my arm started getting tired. He tried to tell me through the gag that he needed more lube and how to better finger-fuck me, but I was trying to be cautious as we'd never used this product before. He seemed okay with it, so I slathered it in, and went back at it. Another few minutes of (ahem) deep tissue massage, and he was ready to come. However, I need to mention something here...when I thought he was getting close, I *ordered* him to come, and he did, within a few seconds. This...amazes me. It's been a stressor before, both for him and for me, gives him performance anxiety, and he handled it so well. I think a big factor in that is I'm trying to let myself go and be more obvious when I feel myself getting close and the Top has also gotten better at picking up on when I'm on the verge of orgasm.

Again, cleanup. Again, back out to the cooldown area. The ride home was nice, too, we talked a lot. I shared some radically honest things about an ex, and the best sex we had ever had (the ex and I). I also related that because this dungeon requires condoms for vaginal and anal penetration, that I didn't think I'd be having much sex there. I revealed to the monkey that there's a loss of some sensation since my hernia surgery. Not a lot...just coupled with the additional loss of sensation of a condom, it's just not...nice. I like the closeness of flesh on flesh; I think once the monkey gets his wisdom teeth out and his TMJ under better control, we may do more oral there.

Thoughts for future visits:

  1. I need some kind of transporable gear carrier. I ideally like the "street salesman" case, a suitcase with unfoldable legs type thing, but other things are workable and my mind's now going at it. I am in favor of buying a case from For Your Nymphomation, perhaps this. Or just a good duffel bag.
  2. The lockers they have there are just a few inches too short for some of our impact toys. But they bend.
  3. Other people I'm working with have expressed nervousness at public play but feelings of being okay with being a helper, one to go get water and get me toys, and otherwise observe. I'm thinking a blue play-collar (get it?) for this purpose might be great. Oh look, sub-shop's having a sale, and this is on sale too.
  4. Buying some food in advance. I'm thinking hitting the nearby subway would have probably been a good idea. This kind of stuff is exhausting. I really only like Subway sandwiches immediately after they're made. Otherwise the dressing soaks in and it's oogy.
  5. Other things, I'm sure. Things the monkey will add, I'm sure.

1. Hell, I need to have one of the slaves photo-catalogue all our toys here, and rate them on cost, history, and pain factor.
2. I believe flogging is somewhat an art and a technique, and I'd actually like to make up a flogger Kata

topthemonkey: (Default)

The monkey remarked last night that I needed to have money available for her to go to therapy. Two weeks of therapy plus one psychiatrist visit runs me $360. (130 + 110 + 110).

As I wanted this out of the way, as soon as possible, I decided I was going to take the monkey out with me.

I ordered her, last night, to go upstairs, strip out of her shorts (her shirt, I said, could stay on) and put on a towel, and also to get on her cuffs and link them.

She came downstairs, appropriately bound, and I quickly switched her cuffs so that, instead of linking just her wrists, both wrists were tethered to the D-ring on her collar.

I escorted her out to the car, and once I had her buckled in, I undid her towel so she was sitting bottom-naked. She remained like that, hands on her collar, exposed, for the entire 20-minute trip to the ATM.

When we got home, I re-wrapped the towel as best I could, and made her carry the money for her appointments into the house in her mouth.

It was after that, that I ordered her upstairs to wait in her cage for me -- I only came in for a moment to turn off the lights and lock the cage door, while I showered and got ready for bed. Some 25 minutes later I would take her out of her cage for the punishment described in the previous entry.

topthemonkey: (Default)
So, this morning, while the house fell empty, the Monkey and I crawled into our private dungeon and I put him in his cage: a fairly basic large dog affair from Petco . He was in there for what I felt was a good 45 minutes, basking in the glow of (if you read the entry before this one, that he wrote on the subject) being a sub-at-ease, with no privileges, but no responsibility, in a place and time where his entire universe fits inside a dog cage.

After he came out, we were cuddling, and he expressed a desire to travel caged: the cage simply loaded in the back of my van, and he locked securely inside it (the legality of such a thing notwithstanding). He's always had some kidnap fantasies, and I decided to present a scenario to him to egg that along.

Envision a road trip...

I'd fit him with a special collar, one that would have a conditioned set of behaviors, specifically: while wearing this collar, he was to act as though his life were in danger, specifically, he would be acting as though at the termination of this trip, he'd be killed, thus, his goal would be to "escape" beforehand. If he didn't take every possible opportunity (and I'd make sure some presented themselves), it would mean legitimate punishment at the end. (Of course, nobody would *actually* die).

Now, normally, for a kidnap victim, the most sane choice would be to call the police and wait for them to arrive. In lieu of this, I'd come up with an alternate scenario: he'd have to get away from his captors, dial an 800-number, specially set up for this, and *after* that, manage to avoid being re-taken for 20 minutes.

Now, there's various ways this could play out, and they lend themselves to a lot of fun. For example, on my team, I'd want at least one female (thus avoiding the obvious hiding place of the girl's room). There's the assumption that we'd have to eat, which would mean either feeding her in the car, or discreetly restraining her to another of us, and keeping her in-line that way. If this was a longer-distance road trip, there could be a hotel stay involved. Of course, the assailants would have resources like radios, binoculars, and possibly even a tracking device on the kidnapee if it became necessary. The kidnapee would have, of course, only her wits and the clothing on her back.

If the monkey managed to escape, of course, the level of force used against her would be generally up to her. We wouldn't hesitate to use real-world restraints (carefully, of course). Real rope, real cuffs, real duct tape if it came down to the monkey deciding to be noisy. As far as actually re-capturing him, it could be as simple as a two-hand-touch rule, or it could be as *real* as having to wrestle her to the ground, and drag her back to the car. I suppose, in-game, the assumption could be that there's a ransom in play, that of course won't help if she's hurt.

One of the other very important rules of course is that the monkey would have to sign a hold-harmless agreement against her would-be-assailants, and that the monkey would have to step out of character in the event that a "muggle" interfered with an attack of misplaced chivalry. She'd have to explain it as an elaborate role playing game, fraternity initiation, or something similar. Beyond that, however, the expectation is that she'd be treated like a kidnapee: roughly, without respect, and with caution.

I presented the above scenario to the Monkey, and he said "but it's not in my nature to resist". I smiled at him and reminded him that, in this case, if he didn't take *every possible* opportunity to try and "save himself", I would make sure he didn't forget it later. "That IS a powerful motivator," He admitted to me.

It's a pretty hardcore scenario, but I think it could be fun if done properly. Comments screened, and welcome.
topthemonkey: (Default)
Some might also find it odd that for The Monkey, this is a safe place to go, a relaxing place where she is free to be a sub with no responsibilities other than to just be a sub in a cage.

I (being the monkey) sincerely doubt that anyone reading this is so unfamiliar with bdsm as to think that being caged is inherently and absolutely an oppressive state.
I was recently informed that people who do not identify as/with specific animals (not exclusive to furries) enjoy pet play within the bdsm context for the humiliation and de-humanization it provides. I don't know what percentage of submissives find this to be the case, but with me the motivation is very different. I was actually genuinely astonished when he said that, because I don't find it humiliating at all. I guess it's de-humanizing, but I don't see that as a degrading thing. More on that in a few paragraphs.

I suppose, as The Top said, part of why I love being caged *is* the attraction of having no responsibilities while in that space. Even if that isn't the sole factor, I know many people are attracted to the submissive role because (ostensibly) it provides a release from responsibilities. No decisions, choices, etc. Of course, in reality, being a submissive is about much more than not having to make decisions (which cannot be gotten out of entirely unless, I suppose, a dominant took micro-managing to the nth degree).
I think I got a bit off track. Yes, it's nice not to have to think about school loans and doctor visits and such when caged, but if I'm preoccupied with the outside world to begin with, no matter where I am, the scene is going pretty poorly and something is seriously wrong.

I love being caged because it lets me be a pet. I identify very strongly with cats (not in a furry-related way, though The Top did once say I was acting therian-like) and appreciate the moments where I am allowed to let myself go into that headspace.
It's not sub-space, but it's similar in that when I'm there I'm really far gone and I don't want to come back. In general, however, I can be knocked out of sub-space pretty easily but my departure from pet-space includes much hissing and clawing. (OK, not really. I know if the top is telling me to get out, there's good reason. But that doesn't mean I'm happy about it in the least.)
Despite the fact that cats are rarely caged, I find it a very natural place to be, a natural extension of what being a pet means to me. Well, not just a pet, but feline in a general sense. Like that cat/pet headspace, it's satisfying and fulfilling. I feel like that's where I'm meant to be. It centers and calms me a great deal.

I am so, so grateful that The Top bought it.

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October 2012

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