After meeting some local kink friends at a munch, I decided to take advantage of my time to stop by the local bondage shop. It's always more fun shopping with someone else, but I was happy to make the trip solo, carefully picking out the instruments that would make my bottom sing.
When I enter the store, there is a girl with two guys at the cash register. She's full of nervous laughter as I'm sure she's about to enter into a threesome with two bros who could have walked off the cast of The Jersey Shore. I march with purpose up the stairs to the second floor which is home to all the things I love. I carefully look at their wall of floggers and whips, carefully selecting ones that interest me. I pick one up and try it on the back of my own leg. Hmmm... nice. I can almost feel the sting of the individual strands. I'm so involved with my experimentation, I hardly notice the couple that has joined me in this attic of pain. She is excited, he looks nervous. I continue to pick up whips and see how they feel. I hear the chatter in the background. She's bouncing from item to item exclaiming, "ooooh... how about this?" or "oooooh... how about that?". He mumbles, hands shoved deep into his pockets, commenting on the quality of craftsmanship. Such a guy. I mentally roll my eyes as I set my sights on a neat whip that has a flat crop-like bit with a sliver of leather shaped like a snake's tongue completing the tip. I love the whip and continue to savor its venomous bite. The price tag is probably worth every penny, but a bit too high for this impulse stop. I start to put it back when the woman runs up to me and asks to see it.
Me: "It's got a nice sting to it."
Woman: "Can I try it?"
Woman: (whips the top of her thigh) "Ooooh... you're right."
Me: "Have you seen the Victor Tella whips? They're gorgeous."
Woman: "No... tell me more."
I put the whip back and reach for a blue Victor Tella bull whip. It's long, especially for my petite stature. I turn around to hand it to her and instead of finding her hand reaching for it, I see that she has completely turned herself around with her denim covered rear pointed right at me.
Hm. Where the heck did this land with the boundaries? I was already in a bit of trouble for misunderstanding what constituted a "fetish event" and will probably pay handsomely for it later this week. But store demonstrations? Never covered. A quick recap in my head decides that this does not dishonor the spirit of the boundaries so I shrug and say to myself, "Why the hell not?"
I move her to the center of the room to give myself a little more room. I have no clue how to work this thing so I channel my inner Harrison Ford and do my best Indiana Jones impersonation. I stroke the whip's handle, and take a firm grip, holding it with respect. I take a confident stance and plant my five inch black heels into the ground. I take a slow back swing and with a flick of the wrist I hear a sweet crack. Bull's Eye.
I took four or five more cracks and would have continued if her lame-o of a boyfriend/husband didn't kill my buzz with a "Whoa! That's interesting!" and looked away with that same nervous laughter. I stopped and she straightened herself out. She turned around with a twinkle in her eye and whispered a thank you.
They continued their little charade as I picked out a small flogger and made my way downstairs. She followed me and kept trying to engage in conversation. She asked my opinion on a corset, which I agreed was hot. I paid and left and as the door shuts I hear a high pitched, "Bye!" from her.
I whipped a girl and I liked it,
The snap on her cherry bottom.
I whipped a girl, just to try it,
I hope my Sir don't mind it.
For whatever reason I quite frequently get mistaken as a Domme. The Englishman has his own theories on why, but I personally think it's the heels.