SwingBot and I finally dragged ourselves to The CSPC on Saturday. We last tried over a year ago, planning to attend a rope bondage course. The drive there was so stressful, followed by our inability to find a parking spot (partially because the place was busy, but partially because we did not know what were legitimate spaces), that we gave up and simply drove back home. That wasted round trip took two to three hours.
With a commute like that, visiting The CSPC is not a light undertaking for people who dislike driving.
Still, we decided to try again, this time for a class on flogging. We left before 11:30 AM and still only reached the parking lot at 1 PM, the class’ starting time. (The trip is supposedly 42 minutes… but in what traffic, I ask! Certainly not the kind we have around here.) Fortunately, we easily found parking this time, and I actually pulled into the parking lot before cruising past it, unlike last time.
The Practical Application of Floggers was taught by Russell Harmon, a man who is surprisingly soft-spoken and gentle with his students, considering what he teaches (and the porn he produces). The class alternated between lecture with demonstrations and practice sessions. We split into pairs and everyone — tops and bottoms alike — took turns flogging and being flogged. SwingBot and I partnered together and each wore a jacket when being the recipient.
SwingBot never flogged me before, and I have never been flogged before. Thanks to the jacket and the fact the practice sessions were mostly gentle (though I did give SwingBot a few hard wallops), it did not hurt… mostly. There were a few badly placed blows that felt uncomfortable, but there were also a few good blows that felt reminiscent of a good back massage. Mostly, though, I felt… bored while bottoming. I studied the wall I leaned against, or let my mind drift, but mostly felt bored. I came alive again once the flogger was in my hand and SwingBot’s back was before me.
For his part, SwingBot similarly found himself bored when he was the top. After the class, he told me that, even with the public setting and protection of the jacket, the blows he received turned him on. However, while he flogged me, he felt as bored as I felt being flogged. His only reprieve from boredom, while he topped, was when he would slap the flogger against his own back in preparation for the next blow on mine.
We broke into laughter several times during the class, as we continually compared notes on how dull I found bottoming and how dull he found topping. Along with getting many useful tips on flogging — that I intend to employ once my arm recovers from three solid hours of practice — we gained affirmation of our preferred roles. In flogging, at least, neither of us is a switch.
We also confirmed that we still dislike driving in Seattle traffic.