Planning updates Monday and Thursday…usually that will mean posted late Sunday or Wednesday, unless it doesn’t.
There are so many things I take for granted. I live in a city that has a first rate BDSM club for public play. By first rate, I mean it’s big, it has staff, it’s open often. Crucible DC is not as big as Power Exchange in San Francisco, or from what I hear some New York clubs. But most cities don’t have a club at all.
I am not really much of a public player. A lot of BDSM to me is about the mind, and that requires one on one, focus. I like to be able to hear what a girl is saying, like to be able to be hands on, measure her responses to everything. There is a lot about public play that I find distracting.
And for all my hedonistic nature, I never was much for “picking up” girls at a club for casual play. I’ve done some casual play here and there but…it doesn’t do that much for me. I’ve tried and I’ve found I prefer to work with someone intensely. I think this is because I get interested in their mind and you can only learn so much about someone in one session. Maybe I’m just a rank sentimentalist. Don’t place bets on it.
So I felt threatened this fall when I had occasion to want to go there for the first time in a long stretch and read that we might lose the club altogether. The new baseball stadium for whatever they named the Washington Senators this time is being built near there. And there’s some thought that the property will be redeveloped.
Ironically this year, I’ve spent more time doing public play than I have in a long while. Which is odd considering I could be considered to be less actively engaged in the Scene than I have been at some times in the past. But things have just driven me that way, and I paid for a Crucible membership so now I’m gonna use it, because I’m stubborn like that.
I suffer from the problem of feeling I ought to be contributory when I am a member of something. Now arguably DC Crucible is a for-profit company owned by a fellow named Frazier. But let us face it, realistically you know the story on this. Probably nearly any other business would be less risky and make more money.
That is not the point of this story though. The point of this story is that I am an idiot. So there are some work days at Crucible preparing for a NYE party I cannot attend because I have to be drunk and disorderly elsewhere.
So I have a light week at work, and I say that I can come by one or two afternoons. Now I do not know what to expect. I run a volunteer site in the summer, and I have had to learn to direct volunteers and have gotten fairly good at it. But most people do not know how, so I expect some work, some muddling around. I will probably get some of the lousier tasks, because that is my nature. I do the things that other people do not want to do and I do them without whining. Because I had rather do them myself than listen to someone else whine about them. For my part I am indifferent to suffering. I don’t get much out of it, I was simply taught to be stoic, and to do what is asked without complaining. My grandfather taught me that I suppose. It is possible that behaving that way is in no way noble, but simply one of many things I do because I have more arrogance and pride than I do fear or capacity for unhappiness.
At any rate I spent the afternoon on my hands and knees on the floor of the Crucible, in the medical area. I cut up the carpet there, then traversed every inch of the medical area with a roller coated with modular carpet adhesive. So I walked across the entire bare concrete floor of that area, every foot of it, on my knees on bare concrete. So the next submissive girl who tells me that the floor of the Crucible is too hard to kneel on…I shall not have much mercy for them.
Really it was a good humiliation scene. Getting down one on one with the stale carpet there. I know people are supposed to clean up and be careful, but you see heavily stained carpet in an area where blood and come are permitted, and it is suggestive. My guess is that most of it was Diet Coke, parking lot grime, and a bit of wax. Hell maybe even regular Coke. *Chuckle* I do not care. Back in the days when I held an “after-school” job, I used to volunteer to clean the toilets at work, because if you are not grossed out by it the work was easier than any other job. I know how to use soap and water.
Later I got to get up close and personal with the old urinals and toilet being stored in the side-room. I thought again that this would make a fine humiliation scene but that I would likely never inflict anything quite on that scale on a submissive.
It was hard work, which means only that the owner knows how to get use out of a volunteer, and I like that better than not. I will benefit from it, I suppose in the coming year if I go there again and that seems not unlikely.
In the end it amused me greatly because I spent the day doing of my own free will some things I would be hesitant to order anyone else to do in the depths of submission. But I have never thought that you should make people do things that you would not do yourself, so I think that is fair and just.
Fun True Fact for the Day:
Historical Fact: In the 18th century French-Canadian explorers called “Voyeurs” traveled through the Northwest in rude canoes. Dressed in hand made fur and leather outfits, they searched relentlessly for Indian beaver and trapped it whenever they could. Because of their actions much of the Northwest was opened up to human habitation and now we have civilization and Tim Horton’s.