Night of The Cane - November 2016

A post from Sissy's Blog

Night of The Cane - November 2016

Night of The Cane is another one of The Firm's long standing events that run throughout the year. This one has more of a school & corpral punishment theme to it than the others and whilst this isn't my sort of thing... it's a good excuse to socialise with some friends and even if I'm not needed to run around with trays of food I'm still an extra pair of eyes.

This year had been something of a trial by fire as the inital venue fell through after all of the leaflets, flyers and other advertising material had been printed. Erk. Bugger, still thanks for the efforts of people on Fetlife, Facebook and tramping around at other events handing out replacement flyers we were good to go and hot to trot. Much like last year at The Flying Dutchman this would be a daytime event with procedings happening between 4pm and 11pm, initially we'd planned to head up to the venue do the needful and head straight back home however this plan had to change as our good friend MzWhipplash had decided to attend and needed a lift to & from the venue. So instead of coming back directly we'd be spending a night on the sofa and pottering back to Hampshire on the Monday.

As with last year this wouldn't be so much 'Night of' as it would be 'Afternoon & Evening' and honestly? It works really well. You can have a nice potter up the motorway or around on public transport (as is your preferance) and everyone is wide awake, enjoying themselves in to the evening with enough time (beyond the odd people who travel REALLY far) to get break down anything needed and to head home for the start of the work week... best way to spend a Sunday and with the 4pm start we did actually have more than one person arriving having just had a full roast lunch.

With some oddities over venue avaliability that I honestly couldn't tell you about (because I have no idea what happened nor do I really want to know) we ended up at Gartside House / The Hellfire Club at 2pm. Only to discover that the get in was 3pm... grr. On the plus side they did let us in early as it was getting rather cold; it seems that Arctic wind is not only here but VERY noticable despite my thick woolen coat, 80 denier tights and several other layers of clothing. I should have brought my gloves. Crazy thing is I'm not even mad about the miscommunication, it's just the way The Firm stuff tends to go: we just bimble through and everything comes together and people have a good time.

Being early did have one perk, we were able to get a tour of the place; rather useful for me as I'd be the one wandering around keeping an eye on people (and more importantly an ear). One of the concerns I had and was later proven to be quite founded was: what do I do? The venue themselves were providing food, so I didn't need to worry about dishing food out at a specific time and beyond the wandering around being the DM I was really left with little to do but find the odd empty and drag them back to the bar.

Yes, I did just complain that I wasn't being run off my feet at an event I'm volunteering at but that's me I like to keep busy and too much dead time just makes me bored. On the other hand it did mean I had more time to socialise and catch up with the other Firm people as well as the customers in general.

It was during one of these breaks, where I discovered that the reason my feet were killing me and straight line walking was for losers, is one of my shoes was falling apart (four years old and done a fair few miles in all weather), that one of the people in school uniform came scurrying up to me with a business card and told me that the someone called 'P Prim' from the Muir Academy. Ok, fair enough, I figured that she was flashing the business card to bump whatever thing had happened up my list of priorities. Pro Tip: I don't work that way, if it's urgent then it's urgent and no amount of wall pissing will further your cause.

So I roar off with my serious head on as apparently something had happened and needed my attention. I find the person and start trying to figure out what has happened... yeah. Lets just say the topics of conversation we quickly went through were:

Had I ever heard of the Muir Academy?
Did I know my uniform was just a 'good start'?
I should book a session at the Muir Academy so I can be better.

Nope, never encountered something like that before. Reason for unimpressed look when being solicited by a Pro 'whatever' #68492 (she's taking the picture).

Also I was a size 16 in that picture... god damn it.
FUCK

I'm not trying to be nasty about it but come on, the sheer number of assumptions made about me (and extension any other 'maid' this person encounters) is just insulting: that I'm pure fetish dressing, that I'm not a collared submissive, that I'm a walking wallet. I mean at least offer the notion of a reach around before trying to inspect my prostate yeah?

We also had several people who'd flown in from distant lands, one person from Denmark, another who I was assured had flown in from Taiwan and even one brave soul from San Francisco.. yes we did at one point end up discussing politics; we basically comiserated him on having what amounted to Satan vs Mamon as the choices and that whoever won we knew know that whatever they started spouting wasn't what every or even the majority of Americans were thinking.

As I said to him, be a bit rude to poke his political system when we'd just decided to go full retard ourselves over Brexit.

Ironically I started writing this entry the Monday after the event, basically the day before America went to the polls and I'm now finishing it as President-elect Trump is an actual thing. FUCK

Feed back from the venue seemed that we were good as our word and the feedback from everyone else is that this was a much better venue than any we'd had in the last few years (no idea if The Factory is included in this statement) and hopefully it's where Night of The Cane 2017 takes place.

Although I am going to have to find some more stuff to do... just to keep myself out of trouble.

bleak theme by Jack Preston