Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
I kept my head down and trailed along the side of the house, another thing that was huge. Three stories of club area, bar, guest rooms, playrooms, changing room, kitchen… They had their own rope dojo too. Their own freaking forest—at the bottom of the lawn in the back.
I’d been a member of their online forum for about a year, and one thing hadn’t changed. My confusion regarding Penelope’s role here. Because it focused so heavily on gay men, and yet she was one of the Founders. In fact, she was the only woman in a position of power out here. The lesbian community was tiny; I’d stumbled across maybe fifteen members who were active in the online group Lesbians of Mclean. The other forty or so members hadn’t been online in at least six months.
Was she bi? She seemed to surround herself with these men, and I already knew she’d had a playtime dynamic with a dude, though it’d been stated on Penelope’s ex’s profile that it was nonsexual.
On the other hand, I’d discovered for myself early on that this setup was kind of comforting. The number of messages with unsolicited dick pics and propositions was near zero. Same couldn’t be said in communities with more straight men.
We’d see how long I lasted here. Lane and his friends had been very welcoming, but I’d gotten the feeling Penelope wasn’t interested. She’d declined my friend request online, and the one time I’d spoken to her at an event, she’d been pretty aloof. I hadn’t made any progress with the other women either, except a Little named Ivy, but she was straight.
I passed the first A-frame cabins, and Noa strode past me with a stack of what looked like packaged drapes, bed linen, and vacuum-sealed pillows.
The fifth cabin was Penelope’s, and as instructed, we left the stuff close to the western wall. She wanted the rest of the space for assembling everything later.
The cabin was beautiful but completely empty. A kitchen nook near the front, by the window, a presumably tiny bathroom under the stairs that led to a loft. Everything was made of wood, so it felt like being transported to a snowcapped mountain.
Just as I turned around to head out, Penelope herself walked in with two kitchen chairs.
“Sorry, Ma’am.” I hurriedly got out of the way and felt my heart beat a little faster.
I blamed her.
She smiled politely. “It’s okay. I appreciate all the help.”
Ugh, can we just get married and live happily ever after?
My face felt hot, so I ducked out to the sound of Noa telling Penelope about everything he’d carried.
This wasn’t one of those crushes where I couldn’t put my finger on why I was so drawn to her, because I knew very well. I’d observed her at events before I’d joined their online community. She and her ex, Ella, had participated in demos and parties outside of Mclean from time to time, and I’d always envied Ella for having such an amazing Domme. Penelope was a listener just as much as she was a rebellious doer. She walked her own path, whether that gained her followers or enemies. Her opinions and views ranged from kind to cold, from compassionate and nurturing to “How’s that my problem?” and “Suck it up.” She’d spoken at one event a couple years ago—if I remembered correctly, it’d been about aftercare and safety. She’d stood up to a Dom who’d strongly recommended cuddles, ice cream, and talking extensively, which, let’s face it, many were fans of. Including me. But Penelope had been all, “Well, it’s up to the sub—and the Top. If I’m playing with a sub who’s wary of affection when she’s overwhelmed, I’m not going to suffocate her with hugs. I’m sick of truism and people deluding newbies into thinking there’s a specific route to take.”
I’d been brand-spankin’-new at the time, so that little piece of obviousness had been enough for me to nod in agreement and have a whole new world opening before my eyes. And ever since then, I’d written lists upon lists about what I wanted. What I needed. Leaving behind cookie-cutter protocols of how BDSM was “done right.”
Penelope was an individualist, which shone through in every online debate I’d witnessed too. Whether it was in kink, life, or politics, she was big on civil liberties and freedom—and parachutes, a word she’d used in another speech, this time online.
“I’m all for a robust parachute. When someone falls, we, as a community and a society, need to be there to catch them. So that’s why it’s extra important we don’t impose rules and structures that set someone up for failure.”
She had similar views when it came to safety. She didn’t adhere to safe, sane, and consensual, which I knew Mclean House as a community had rejected as well. “What constitutes sane? Safe?” Once again, she’d preached about the freedoms of Tops and bottoms to choose their own way. At Mclean, they used RACK. Risk-awareness and informed consent, with a side of, “You gotta be over eighteen,” in Reese’s words when he’d given me a scripted speech on their rules.