In the last post for my story, I shared how I’d tied and tormented the lady of the house at the Boudoir, and caught the eye of a fellow kinkster. An invitation to a house party followed, and joining the party chat group was an eye opener. I was still in two minds about attending, but the ideas of what could happen grew.
I’d been all but messaging TheRock to say “Yes! I’ll be there. Sign me up!” when something extraordinary happened. As some of you might know, I like a little rope. Not only do I enjoy my own ties I also enjoy the images that others share on sites such as Instagram and Fetlife. I follow some astonishingly good riggers, normal people whose skills are such that I aspire to be like them. Some of these amazing people have become friends over the years, people such as Angel, for example.
Back to the party chat…
I was considering if it would be worth taking my rope, if anybody there would like to be tied, and if there was anywhere I could dangle myself. I’d recently been learning to self suspend safely, my question definitely had a purpose. I was told I should wait for one of the others to respond to that question. Later that evening there was a message in the group for me, a photo taken at a previous weekend. A gorgeous bunny elegantly inverted from a hardpoint in the ceiling. It was one of the most strikingly beautiful images I’d seen in a long time, however, it wasn’t the first time I’d seen it.
Expanding it in my phone I took a closer look at the watermark, my jaw dropped.
There was no way I could go to the party now. This rigger, one of my ropey heroes, would be there. In a moment of utter fan-girl madness I messaged TheRock and told him I couldn’t come, but not explaining why. For some reason my brain missed out the part that it would be a fun weekend, informing me coldly that the one thing I had to offer (rope) was going to look stupid in front of everyone else because this magnificent rigger would be there, wowing the crowd with his expertise.
He responded that the invite would remain open, he understood that I’d be nervous as I wouldn’t know anyone, but that if I changed my mind I would be welcomed with open arms.
I may have silently sulked for a couple of days.
Taking leaps of faith is something I’ve revelled in since meeting Sir, and going to the party had felt like a real opportunity to grow. But now I couldn’t go. I wasn’t good enough, unworthy of their company. The bukake still required lots of planning, and in all honesty I needed to keep my head down with the organisation. To conquer the ever growing sense of imposter syndrome. My decision not to go to the party reduced it slightly, and I took a breather.
There is one problem with my decision though. I really, really, really like trying new things. Did I want to miss out on this opportunity because I was scared? This ultimately proved to be a powerful motivator.
Supported by Sir and CC I did something brave.
I sent the rigger a private message, away from the group. He’d heard that I wasn’t going anymore, and as we chatted I shared why. Explaining that I was worried about looking like an idiot, that I so enjoyed his images on Fetlife and Instagram. On the chat I was “Me” my preferred name on this chat platform as it works for vanilla family, sexy swingers and kinky Fetlifers. He asked who I was on there. Immediately that I’d responded he replied “I love seeing your posts pop up on my feed. You do some great rope and it’s nice to see your passion for learning. It would be great to meet you”
Now this was not what I was expecting.
Inwardly groaning, I knew that my attendance at the party would now be inevitable.
Sir asked the questions he always does: is it safe and do you want to? The answer to both had always been yes. In this moment the vile internal dialogue had been quieted, countered. Laid to rest by the person whose presence had turned up the volume.
Before I could change my mind I told TheRock that I would be there. Warning that I may be really quiet and nervous. Perhaps I’d only stay for one night rather than two, but that I would be there and doing my best. And I’d still be part of the party chat group, so I could get to know people ahead of time.
With a few weeks left to the Bukake party I had plenty to occupy my mind. Anxiously dipping in and out of the group chat helped me to divert my nerves on occasion. A blessing of sorts in the build up to my next big challenge.
But you’ll have to wait for the next instalment to find out how that progresses.
If you enjoyed Group Chat: Nerves and a Decision, perhaps you might enjoy this post too. There is no greater obstacle documents my first night at a fetish club. Nerves were prevalent on this occasion too!