To the good folks of the BDSM shop in Utrecht, I give thanks. See, it had been planned as an entirely innocent business trip – until Olivia pointed out that she was little more than an hour away by train, and wondered if we might be able to meet up on the second and final evening of my visit? Some rapid rescheduling of business commitments ensued, and plans were duly set.
But, of course, I had no implements with me. Time for a quick dash to my favourite store in town. Their canes? Pretty hopeless. Straps? Not great. After all, they specialise in (rather lovely) bondage and fetish gear, rather than in items for the corporal punishment purist like myself.
The assistant came over: did I need any help, she wondered? “I’m looking for a strap a little heavier than this,” I explained. And we fell into the sort of open conversation that one sometimes has with newly-met kinky folks, and she started to merrily conspire in the choice of accessories to make my unscheduled play date a success.
Her colleague upstairs on the cash desk joined in gleefully too, and soon they were recommending the best place in town to buy hairbrushes, and well as a rather lovely household store. Carpet beater, in case you were wondering: highly effective!
They were very helpful indeed. My hands are still bruised from that plastic thing! Evil!