December 10th

We're now 12 or more hours into "A.A.".

That's a phase that many of us have been looking forward to, postponing things til, and afraid will come too soon. "After ArtBound".

I woke up this afternoon, ran some errands, and came home to fix a large artery-filling meal and catch up online. I have a fresh pot of coffee, a large jug of V-8, just finished a bowl of my egg drop soup and have a steak with diced spuds/onions both covered with an oyster sauce gravy, a fire in the fireplace, and I'll be alternating key strokes with fork strokes. A CD [ "Jodler und Schuhplattler"] of ethnic Swiss yodelling - with full oompah band - on as background white noise and here we go.

I'm writing this Sunday afternoon, and ArtBound II was Friday and Saturday nights. By any possible criteria, it had to be judged as hugely successful. [Sold out, no injuries, everyone had fun, every scene that I saw met expectations, and no breakage of the world-class glasswork of the venue owners .]

I have no doubt that others will recount the events, and much more faithfully than I. One journalist for SHS was there both nights and will be doing a full report. A key component of the event was the photography and there were half a dozen designated photographers bustling about every moment, blinding everyone with their lighting. Jeff Hengst the painter was there recording photographs of the small details, the turn of a wrist or the color of a rope burn, for what I'm sure will be a wealth of paintings to come, and the walls were covered with larger-than-life works on loan from his studio.

There were half a dozen stations set up at any given time, and some of the artists varied between the two evenings. Kevin and I were the Dungeon Monitors, being the extra facilitating hands and on-call for First Aid or whatever sort of support was needed. Sol was running a security team - and NO one fucked with GothGirl in her black latex skintight dress and 5" heels - while Panther and Annika and a couple of friends were handling the door. James was overall in charge, with his lovely assistants Gwen, Peg-o'-My-Heart, and Dave, the lovely older leatherman who is an anchor for James. There was catering, a girl with a tray of cigars, ArtBound booklets, and condoms, and I'm sure I'm forgetting folks. The management of the venue were very supportive and involved in everything.

Some of the work was static, some works in motion or evolution, some audience participatory, and some educational. Everything I saw was well done and worthy of an audience. Ropes, chains, cargo-net, twine, cages, body-bags, manacles, free-standing erector-set apparatus and more.

The audience was respectful and appreciative throughout, to the point of eager volunteers to be trussed or suspended or flown.

(Peter the Diary writer is switching over here from the yodelling to gospel, the , Blind Boys of Alabama for background noise.)

From start to finish, planning to execution to afterglow, this was a class event. James has done a very accomplished, respectful, and worthwhile thing with this effort, and hopefully it's only the second of many more such. I have no doubts that he will have my ongoing support and the help, love, and support of every other staff member associated with it. I'm damn proud that Janes Guide was a sponsor.


After we wound down and cleaned up last night, round about midnight or so, most everyone involved on staff and a few friends who had attended all went over to Sol's place for his After party. He had left Mighty Mouse - just adorable in her pigtails and little schoolgirl's outfit - at the house as hostess for whoever showed up at whatever time through the evening. Kev and I got there - and took the last even semi-legal parking place for blocks around - about halfway through the crowd gathering.

First person I saw walking in was Boop, and I flirted with her a bit until she and Kevin disappeared for a bit of privacy. Unfortunately, Rapunzel - Sol's house mate - was gone to work. I keep missing her, with hours of work and days off in opposition, and I regret it.

GothGirl had a ArmorAll spritzer and I volunteered to polish up her latex dress. No, I'm not a service bottom, but hell, anyone I know top or bottom would have leapt at the opportunity. After her I was simply forced, forced mind you, to provide similar service for Peg-o'-My-Heart and another voluptuous latex-clad maiden. Should reviewing smut ever fall through as a career option at least now I have something else to fall back on.

In a bit, I ended up sitting on a couch in the basement dungeon, watching Mighty Mouse in a wonderful violent wrestling take-down scene. She was half the size of the fellow she was playing with and she was more than holding her own until suddenly she slipped, his weight took over, and I heard a laughing squawking "Erg oh fuck me!" as the laws of physics, inertia and gravity, became inevitable.

Mid-way through the scene the young lady in the chair next to me reached out and grasped my hand. It was obvious she was reaching for comfort and support, not being forward. After the scene, in whispered asides, she confided she had had a bad scene and relationship breakup some time before and just needed some support watching the violent scene - which was one she enjoyed, by the way. We chatted a bit and I offered her a bit of hair worship - she has long and beautiful hair - and she sat in front of me on the floor while I spent 10-15 minutes finger-combing her hair and massaging her scalp. She is a friend of Bridgett's, with whom I've spent pleasant time in between her trips to Burning Man or London or wherever [see my journal entries for LIL in July, or 10/8, for example]. I must have made some sort of self-serving moan about my feet because next thing I knew Bridgett and friend and Bridgett's boyfriend, a massage therapist, were all stripping my Rockports and socks off and giving HEAVENLY team massage to my sore and suddenly happy feet. Bridgett, dear one that she is, started giving me deep toe, which is a more sexual feeling than half the peepee-in-cunny sex I've had in my life.

I started making those sorts of sounds that mean loud and public pleasure, and Panther had the _audacity_ to make a [friendly] chiding jest about my noises. This, mind you, five minutes after she had been making VERY similar loud and public pleasure noises over in the corner with five feet of Sol's newest toy adding to her joy. I'll let her tell y'all about that stuff. I didn't suffer her peanut gallery gracefully.

Anyhow, a short while later Bridgett's friend - oh, hell, she needs a name and I didn't discuss it with her... let's just call her PeasantGirl for now - asked for a rope harness and I was allowed to assist Bridgett in the application of same. Bridgett had quite a few lengths of, believe it or not, purple rope. [Bridgett has many things in purple, come to think of it.] With blindfold in place and Bridgett giving much moral support I did a nice little rope harness, maybe a total of 100' or so of rope. I had just finished with PeasantGirl and looked over at the stairs and James was standing there. Now, I know my ropework was adequate, but I suddenly felt this "...I'm not worthy..." embarrassment flush over me [we talked later and I confessed to it, and he laughed it off]. I took Bridgett's dagger and traced all over PeasantGirl's body and the cold steel is quite noticeable when you restrained and blindfolded. The sensations appeared to move towards a peak and I backed off while Bridgett took PeasantGirl under her protective wing.

We were all still sitting around relaxing, PeasantGirl enjoying the sensations of the flesh she had bound in the rope very much, when AliKat and her male partner, Fred, came downstairs to play. There must have been 20 people sitting around the dungeon, most of us at a rest point, and Ali and Fred just kinda walked into being a focal point. If they both weren't so darned cute ... oh never mind. Anyhow, after caning her world-class tush for a bit he mentioned to the crowd that he'd thought of throwing her to the rug and having her restrained by the hands of the assorted multitude while he fingered her over the top. See my journal entry for 10/15 to see how she likes the laying on of hands, by the way. Now, Peg-o'-My-Heart had been making mention from about halfway through the evening at ArtBound and on up to the moment about certain ... needs ... that were overdue to be scratched. Ali was thrown to the rug and we all stood back to let Peg-o'-My-Heart jump in first. We must have ended up with 10-15 people helping to hold her down according to Fred's instructions ["Oh, noooo... never pull her hair!", "Hey - there's a loose nipple someone has to grab...", and so forth]. Everyone was laughing and generally having a ball.

(There's something delicious about listening to gospel while writing about this stuff, but all good CDs come to an end. Next up, in the name of diversity, the Red Army Chorus doing traditional Russian folk songs.)

He started massaging her and fingering and she was writhing and it was a good thing. Kind gentleman that he is, after five-ten minutes Fred looked over at Peg-o'-My-Heart and said, "Oh, Peg, my carpal tunnel is acting up. Would you be able to take over here?" Bless her heart, Peg paused politely enough that I actually thought she was thinking it over, before she jumped in between Ali's legs. Peg-o'-My-Heart worked her magic for a while and then I was asked if I would step in and assist, and between all of us we helped Alikat over the top very nicely. I've never seen that many people that tired and sweaty together doing something that involved no ball or goalposts.

Before too long I went to look Kevin up, and he was upstairs schmoozing in the middle of a large group of clothed and unclothed friends. It was getting on towards 4am and folks were trickling out. He and I spent a long time schmoozing our way out and around the crowd and I refilled my to-go cup of potato chips three times trying to get gone. He dropped me off at my place and the long ArtBound weekend came to a close for me.


I'll try to keep entries posted as I can through the holiday psychosis period. Next weekend Number One Son and I fly to visit my dad for a few days [he told me this afternoon on the phone that it was down to 70 there... we're dodging snow here].

Keep checking back at that ArtBound site every week or so for some months to come - they'll be posting the photographs as they are able and for those who weren't able to come, were out of town, live in BFE or some such place, it'll be worth the effort.

And of course, life is quite good.

(Next up on the CD player, either Ute Lemper/Punishing Kiss, Shooglenifty/Live at Selwyn Hall, or Sarah Brightman/La Luna. All 3 are sitting here and I'll grab one blind after I finish spellcheck and hit the send-it button.)

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