Purple Ribbon - P1 The Preparation.


This was originally planned as a short ramble entry about a party evening one Friday. I ended up turning it into a four part piece of erotica. It is 12300 words in total making it around an hour read in total. Feel free to either read the parts in order or jump to the specific one that is of interest once they are all published.

It is the early hours, through the door. Relax. Long evening amongst a lot of people drains the mind. Time to check that the companions of the night are home safe from the evening socialising at the fetish club with a few texts. The ritual of undressing and the shower to confirm the night is over. It's peaceful. Looking over at the ping in the bathroom breaking the silence of the shower water, the phone screen lit up with one new message

Rewind to what brought on the start of the evening that ended with that statement.


One of the comments I've heard regarding myself is when it comes to the world of BDSM is I can improvise with whatever is available or with minimal adjustment. Even though I have all the kinky toys I'm a bit of a 'collectomanic' so I've been told. I've been called far worse. It isn't because I want all the toys it's because I like to be prepared. I pride myself on being able to part take in as many kinks are possible to help in the fight against personal demons.


Have a catch up about me being a Witcher


I find being invited to a kink event at short notice. It's a big one at a popular swingers venue some forty five minutes drive. Not a bother, a call to the bard confirms travel arrangements quire a few items from the dungeon space for lightweight carrying in my leather briefcase. He is a good boy. He helps keeps my ideas grounded at times and can help override some of the ideas the voice brings up with a polite suggestion.

Often I come out with something unique, interesting and sometimes I even surprise myself. Infrequently something damn right moronic. Most the time I end up doing scenes and such that I had no idea I was even going to be part of. In my head, the monologue voice is saying "fuck argh!" and then I tell it to put on the big boy trousers, bring out the British stiff upper lip and carry on.

That voice keeps me company allowing decision making a task at times, debating with myself. This voice also has access to my verbal abilities often bypassing my option to filter the results. I guess its a perk of being born in the middle of June.


At this current Friday afternoon, my mind is in a bit of a strict mood for the moment. I have had a few days of little problems making my day the type that would be best described as three Mondays in a row while randomly breaking mirrors at my feet. My mindset is for high protocol and the voice is telling me to be a bit of a cunt as the world deserves it. Often there would be agreement.


High protocol is fun though draining, it could break the deadlock of hatred towards the world at this current moment. Maybe even create world peace. Well, maybe not that. Time with the bard regardless of my mindset I know he will stand with me, or kneel and ensure if I set on fire he will press the extinguisher and bring a cup of tea through the smoke.


I send over my list via messenger to pick up toys from the steel cabinet of various items from around the globe. Most have a kit bag, I have a kit building built up over the years. I imagine him like a kid in a sweet store picking sweets for his little paper bag resisting not to sample others. I may not even use any of the items but he knows he is doing me a service by collecting my requirements. For that, he knows that my appreciation is already with him. A quick call was had to confirm some items and I feel that bit more ready for the evening ahead.


It is a few hours before heading down to the venue where he will escort me during the event. I instructed the bard to wear full leather gear. The smell of an abundance of leather next to me often overpowers even the busiest of social areas. He is part of a men's leather social group. The only social gathering I have been to in a bar and come out smelling better than I walked in. He looks very smart in it and gives more eyes in my direction.


The evening plans are more social than anything while perhaps some light plays with the bard to add further to his repertoire of song pages about me. I have had chats with people regarding some ideas but nothing is set in stone. I put out a consent form for one woman should she like an over the knee spanking. She may decide to shy away and not approach me but we shall see. I don't chase for scenes. After all, it's all about me. If it is not about me or aiding in the inflating of my ego to calm the voice then it is not of interest.


The women in question for the over the knee spanking, I have had previous light chats at other events we have interacted. During our conversations of the past, she has expressed a desire for protocol related play, enjoys exhibitionism as well as public display. We get along very well and she is visually pleasing, to say the least.

I was given full consent with my online consent form system should I wish to act upon some Witcher monster hunting pro bono to help with the demon running free in this one's head, causing chaos and misery. I will describe what approaches me at the club later on if she plucks up the courage.


I found myself in a craft shop looking for frames for artwork for the play space as I found myself in a bit of spare time. Spare time. Just the thought of that is a novelty. Yes, I can be cultured by buying art. Stop judging me for free and send me a tribute for the privilege. I follow an independent artist on the interweb who draws mental health-related artwork. Very unique dark drawings.

However standard American frame sizes are different to the UK which I later found out that would irritate me in my search for seven frames that include aperture mounts. While looking through frames the next row of items behind me was the ribbon.


Lots of different ribbon, patterns and colours to which a purple caught my attention between a block of twelve or so different purple reels. Purple and I have a good relationship. It is in my play space, my neckties and if someone is wearing it he or she generally gets noticed before anyone else. If you approached me without any clothes on but had purple hair I would likely comment on that before asking what happened to your underwear. Unless you have a purple tattoo on your crotch.


Before long I had four meters of ten millimetres wide purple ribbon. It was smooth silky and shiny with a simple trim down either side to stop fraying. Brand new reel too, untouched waiting for someone to open the tab, pulling lengths of it's insides out to give visual pleasure for those who look upon it.

The type of purple that was not dark enough to look black and not light enough to be near the lilac spectrum. I'd best describe as a polished plumb. Next to the ribbon was accessories therefore I took the ribbon with a pack of eight metallic coloured little tin bells. Just in case.


The evening fast approaches, my escort is due to arrive on the street corner where he picks me up for any transportation should I require him like today. 20:00 is the pickup time. It is 19:30. A few lifestyle delays have caused me to be slightly behind on my dressing. Open the phone screen and the message gets sent out. "More likely to be 20:15". A few moments later the ping appears on my phone with a reply.


Wearing a suit is something Mister Smith does well. My gym antics have been fruit-bearing recently with broader chest, thicker neck with a collar size now a comfortably tight nineteen inches up form seventeen only eighteen months ago. complete with a better walking posture.

My shoulder delts are more prominent and my recent extended facial hair from a Movember charity run now sees me sport a short full beard adding to the masculinity of fuck with me if you dare. I know someone with a pig farm you will do well to know this. I don't do polyester other than a % in the trousers for a bit of durability.


The majority of what I wear is tailored or picked by me to match anything else I am wearing at the time. In this case, I decided to twist the Brexit news a little bit by colour coding red white and blue. As if I am going to look good, I may as well have fun while I do it. I know that a good suit gets the eyes, gets the attention and causes envy to perspire within onlookers.


First is the full leather Italian hand made shoes of a tan colour, matching laces. The bard often gets to look at my feet and these are a nice treat as would be for anyone at that level with their eyes. They are not for touching though only visual as well as the scent of leather. Different to my usual polished black boots which I actively seek to have a tongue against where ever possible. I opted for rubber soles with a shallow tread as I enjoy twisting, stepping and walking on all matter of things, people too. Leather soles just don't get the same reaction. I also living in the northern of England, it is never dry here always best to be prepared.


Charcoal trousers, I used to wear black but a tailor suggested black was too boring, charcoal grey was the in, black was for salesmen and undertakers. Fitted to the right length, no slacking or drooping here.

The belt is not required but makes a complete accessory. Any belt I use now sports a hidden buckle. The back of the belt has notches which click into the back of the front display piece via a spring system. This means no holes on show as well as a much more snug fit as the notches are much closer than those of the standard hole and clasp type of belt. Dark blue with grey checker gloss buckle sporting a silver outline.


White Egyptian woven pattern shirt. Long sleeve with cufflinks of course. Fits well, a bright white with the woven pattern that gives a much more adult that means business look rather than a blank white standard shirt. Those are the type which reminds me of the assistant manager of a domestic appliance retail outlet or a static security guard. With the colour theme, the decided wrist bling shall be union jack cufflinks. God save the queen.


With every union jack, you need to represent the red stripes. Ties, ties. There are two simple rules when you go to buy a tie. Silk is king and if it's a two for one offer, you need to buy the one tie that's the same price as the two. No one needs two ties for an occasion, always find the one tie to match the outfit. In this circumstance red.

Solid colours are out of the window.

I selected a tie that had a similar pattern to the lower trim of my waistcoat. Ted Baker, you can not go wrong with these ties, they make a bold statement and worth the investment. It is a nice wide shade of red, not too bright or too dark, two-toned in the pattern. Black from a side view with a lush shimmery dark blue as you move towards a front view. The only thing that improves this tie is the solid silver tie pin.


Then we are onto the blue. Blue wool with silk lower-trim waistcoat, three-button design. I keep the centre button closed when moving around then unbutton when seated. A waistcoat completes a suit when you are indoors, it also protects your shirt from the potential damage of people passing you, potential drink spills and they just look very mature. Not many people wear a waistcoat, those that do tend to go for solid colours, cheaper options and these combined don't radiate a pleasing look..


Place a watch on my wrist and the outfit is complete. Not just any old watch, a proper watch. The type of watch that has weight in it, when you shake someone's hand, they catch a look from the glint off the face. They think what a perfect way to look at the time and wonder why they do not have one of their own rather than a digital screen suddenly thinking back to a more simple time. Using a phone to check the time is rude, on top of that you have to carry the phone in your pocket making your trousers slouch.

My watch of choice is a silver BOSS with a metallic blue face. Heavy, reliable, shiny. I like to stroke my facial hair with the same hand causing my sleeve to reveal the watch face for all to see. A timeless classic.


The drive down was fairly painless, forty five minutes to an hour, I check my watch seeing 21:20. When he drives me anywhere there is a cool box behind the driver's seat with various drinks and sugary snacks.

He likes to ensure I am comfortable on my journeys. Small talk is optional or complete silence is fine by him depending on my mood. Liverpool is a fairly large city, a lot of tall buildings with constantly changing roads. They have been modifying the hospital meaning road works adding the odd redirection.


Liverpool, however, an interesting city at night to see the various lighting that has been placed to ensure the city of culture awards stick. Through the tunnel, we go with only a few miles to go. The tunnel marks the last leg of the journey as the club is only a mile or so from the exit end.

Strange silence echos while going through the tunnel, swishing lights, no sky only grey cement, not much much traffic. A calming motion. Time to think about the evening ahead. We leave the tunnel approaching the toll booth, only five minutes drive left to go before we arrive.

( PART TWO - THE CLUB )






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