~LAFF-CUE-ARCHIVE: sf-trip-1.Z
~Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
~From: amartell@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alex Martelli)
~Subject: Alex and Laylah's trip to SF - part 1 (March 11)

===============================================================

    Two wonderful weeks, and now we even get to POST about them...
wow! I hardly know where to start, so I'll follow the excellent
advice that Alice was given: start at the beginning, and, when you
come to the end, stop... These posts will be cut up at reasonable
length and chronological boundaries - this one happens to cover
just the first day, 3/11. As there's so much to relate, I have not
been editing as carefully as usual, so I apologize for any errors!

   General disclaimer: there may be a largish amount of material
not directly related to a.s.b, and what IS so related may be not to
your taste, as we do a large range of play, from the sweetest D/S
and spanking to cuts, burns, &tc - and I'm just describing what
actually happened.  Flames welcome, but I may well flame you
back...:-)

   I tried to remember to get permission from everybody we met to
mention them on a.s.b ... but forgot in a few cases... and didn't
keep written notes, so if you find yourself unexpectedly
unmentioned here, I apologize, but it must be one of the cases
about which I was uncertain - sorry! Incidentally, if anybody
wonders whether it's all right to mention me and/or Laylah in posts
here, go ahead - blanket permission granted.

    Thu, Mar 11 - the Bologna->London trip

   The weeks of preparations and arrangements are behind us -
email, phone calls across the Atlantic, faxes & calls galore with
the incompetent futzes that pass for a travel agency over here...
it's early morning and we're waiting for Laylah's father to come
pick us up in his shining new Opel car and drive us to the airport,
as he's so kindly offered to. I while the time away catching up on
a.s.b - damn!  Posts by STella and Roy directly addressed to me
which I'll never have a chance to answer... the bell rings, and
it's luggage-on-car-loading time.

   Car to airport, BA to Heathrow, customs, immigration, heavy bags
to Left Luggage, Underground to Bayswater, check in to our small &
cheap but neat hotel, Underground again to Tottenham Court Road for
some shopping.  Not toys or anything like that, of course, as those
will be far cheaper Over There - but - some spanking mags I do want
to pick up... British spanking mags always were the ones I loved
best.

    [Incidentally, I've *never* seen a finer day than this in
London, and in particular can't believe that such days exist there
in early March... sunny, bright, warm, the works!  Must be a side
effect of EEC membership, as London itself gets confused and thinks
it's Rome or something like that...:-)]. At Lovejoy in Charing
Cross Rd (normal bookshop above ground, toys and other "dirty"
stuff downstairs - one of the few places not yet caught in the
general "cleansing" of London over the last few years) I do find
some oldish copies of "Janus", still marked at 8 or 9 pounds each
(more recent spanking mags are all 10 pounds per issue, and, from
a quick scan, worse than the older ones).

   This leaves time for a little bit more generic shopping (Laylah
likes and buys a cheap wristwatch at a street stand which, I
notice, also offers a wide selection of handcuffs, but, it seems to
me, "decorative" rather than functional ones), a call back home
from a Cardphone to reassure the family we're all right, then back
to the hotel to wait for Tony Kidson, with whom we're having dinner
tonight (apparently no other Londoner reading a.s.b is interested
in a "Currymunch" with us - except Magician, but he's in SF already
and we'll meet him there).

   Tony shows up and we walk to an _excellent_ AND cheap Indian
restaurant. Huge meals and interesting conversation, the latter
continuing after dinner at a nearby pub (well, half the chat
between Tony and me is about computers and modems and networking
and such, but thankfully Laylah has grown _extremely_ patient about
that over the years!). Only main point of disagreement is about the
color of Laylah's hair -  while I have often described it as "dark
blonde", Tony claims it's red.  Hmmm, it _does_ look vaguely
reddish in artificial lights, maybe (opinions from others who've
seen it are welcome).  

   Tony also promises to send me two REAL old issues of Janus he
has (just to remind you of your kind promise, Tony...:-), and gives
me a further important bit of info - there is an "original uncut"
printing of Heinlein's "Stranger in a strange land" which has been
published quite some time ago, about which I didn't know - I make
a point of looking for it over in the US [I finally ended up buying
the hardcover version after convincing myself that, surprisingly,
it must not be out in paperback yet].   Oh, one funny bit - we're
talking about our flight here, Laylah comments she's slept through
it, and Tony expresses surprise that she's managed to sleep in a
cramped BA seat, to which Laylah answers that she manages to sleep
in just about any contorted position - "Why of course, dear", I
interject, "I've given you _plenty_ experience with that!" - and I
have the desired effect, as _Tony_ blushes at the thought!-) [We
don't actually do that much bondage in funny positions,
particularly during sleep, but the opportunity was too good to pass
up...:-)].

   It's still early, as we must rest, when we say "arrivederci" to
Tony and walk back to our hotel.  When we are in our room, Laylah
asks me to check my initials carved on her flank and touch them up
if needed, but the "AM" is still perfectly readable, so I just
reassure her and warm her up a bit with our little stingy red
plastic whip used very delicately.  Then a thought strikes me - my
slave is marked as my property, so there will be no risk of
confusion, but *I* am not marked as my Lady's property... just as
name tags should be sewn onto clothing in preparation for a trip,
so should slaves' flesh be marked.  "Hmmm, switch?", I ask Laylah,
who is in a bit of a trance, laying naked, on her belly, on our
bed, her backside warm and pink.

   She snaps out of it, sits on the bed, grabs my hair, and stares
into my eyes while her Lady-voice asks, "YES, slave, what _is_
it?".  I can't stand her gaze, and lower my eyes as I inform her of
my doubts.  She seems pleased.  "Good, GOOD slave", she murmurs
patting my cheek with her hand, just hard enough to hurt. 
"Excellent idea.  ``LM'' is too much, but I can surely do a simple
``L'' on your arm... go to the bathroom and fetch the razorblades
and some tissue".

   She toys for a moment with the idea of heating up the blade,
then decides against it as she has no proper holder for it, nor
bonds nor anybody to help me stay put - a simple cutting will have
to do. She has me lie on my right side, efficiently cuts a small L
of medium depth into my left arm, then with the blade picks up a
bit of cigarette ash from the ashtray and works it into the cut.

   As usual, the razorcut itself is hardly perceptible when made,
but soon starts burning, particularly with the ash... NOT a kind of
pain I enjoy, but the submission aspects of it really make my heart
melt (she _really_ loves cutting, almost as much as being cut
herself).  I notice she's using the tissue expertly to avoid any
stray drop of blood getting onto the sheets.  Some blood is still
slowly oozing out when she's done, so she takes my lighter, puts a
handkerchief in my mouth, and burns the freshly-cut area for an
instant, then waits to check that blood flow has actually ceased -
it has (and thanks to the hanky I've managed not to scream), and
the area is barely reddened.

   "Switch?", she asks me.  I try to answer but notice the words
come out as "mmmh-mmh-mmmmh" - oops, the hanky's still firmly held
in my teeth (and my mind is none too clear).  I take it out and
repeat, "Sorry, my Lady, but..." - she understands that I'm a bit
too shaken to switch to top, pats my head, and reassures me, "It's
all right, slave, it _was_ a little bit deeper than usual - but,
hmmm, switch to enlightened mood?".

   Well, _that_ I can manage any time, so, ok. "Does that mean I do
not get to sleep as your slave?", I ask her.  "Exactly, darling -
we have no collars nor any bonds with us anyway, and it's important
we both get a good night of rest, AND, you stopped using the little
red whip on my buns just before giving me a good orgasm for it, SO,
will you be a kind husband and complete the task please?".  Well,
I can hardly refuse so reasonable a request from my sweet wife, so
I get to work again - just as sweetly and delicately as before,
from a physical point of view, but with no D/S overtones, just a
pleasant tingling sensation mounting on her buttocks (both of us
generally prefer our S/M mixed in with D/S, but the purely sensual
aspects are fine too, and we do that reasonably often as well).

   We chat pleasantly for a while - mostly me praising the
excellent job she's just done, as well as various aspects of her
delectable anatomy, while the contribution on her part is mostly
just "yes"'s and "hmmm"'s and an occasional "a bit harder, please,
darling".  Then she informs me that she's about to take off, and
asks if it's all right with me if she then slips right into orgasm
and from that into sleep - but of course, dear heart, I answer, and
I add that I'll take care of setting the alarm clock for tomorrow
morning.

   After a while her moans and shudders of pleasure subside, and I
verify she's actually asleep.  I set the clock, cover her beloved
body with bedsheets and covers, and masturbate to orgasm while
caressing her nakedness under the sheets (I have no worry about
waking her up - Laylah's sleep is cannon-proof).  A very good night
of sleep follows.

    Alex