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Bringing Kink to College Students

[If you’ve been reading these posts from the beginning, you’ll remember that Patrick Cupp is the son of my former Owner, Karen (Brenna). It is Patrick whose heart condition caused Karen to have to return from our Panama trip only six weeks after we arrived. Patrick had a full hart transplant two Christmas’s ago. He’s now taking classes at Austin Community College and he mentioned my background to his Human Sexuality instructor. She contacted me and asked me to come in and teach an “Intro to BDSM” class.]

Karen Raines, PhD asked me to come in and teach the intro BDSM class last Wednesday. We met for coffee before class just to fine-tune our mutual expectations. I was going to do two classes for her; one at the Metric Boulevard campus and one at the Northridge campus.

[Coincidentally, this campus is adjacent to the apartment complex where I lived with slave mindi upon our return from Panama until Jen and I moved in together in 2011. It is also across the street from the apartment where Mistress and Patrick established themselves right after his transplant and where I set up my daytime office in an apartment near them while spending nights and weekends with slave mindi across the street.]

The students were very attentive. I could see when I got near a topic someone didn’t like and I would then paddle away from it. Things like eStim seemed not to go over well.

All in all, though, Dr. Raines was pleased and asked that I come back next year.

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Changes

I had been Owned by Karen since 2002. She had permitted me to take mindi as my sex slave in 2003. We were a threesome (not sexually) up to and including our move to Boquete, Panama in January 2009. When Karen had to return to the US upon her son’s near-fatal heart condition, mindi and I remained in Panama until December 19, 2009. I’m sure the three of us all have different “takes” on what happened, but our structure fell apart. In February, I began a relationship with the woman who is now my Master.

I met Jen. Actually, we’d known one another slightly when we both lived in Lago Vista. Not only was she my dentist’s dental assistant, but she and her husband were in the Lago Vista country western dance club that Renee (second wife) and I were in. However, we’d never been social friends.

Magically, she reappeared in my life.

c 01 jen

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Nature Photography in Panama

b 14 nature photography

Our time in Panama was a photographic treat. The country was lush, we were living in the middle of a growth of coffee trees, there was an animal rescue center in town that was about the size of a small zoo. They had everything there from large cats to parrots to monkeys. We went there a number of times and one of my finest photographs was taken there. The picture is a beautifully curved orange lily leaf and it probably took me 45 minutes to figure out how in the world to photograph it correctly.

b 15 curved lily

Photography is my art-form: when I decide to photograph an object it generally takes me from 20 to 40 minutes to work out the correct distance, angle, light, and lens. I also have to check depth of field every time I change lenses. As I mentioned above, photography lets me see things differently. But, it takes a while.

slave mindi and I could not take very many side trips, because of the nature of her job. She is what is called a “utilization review” nurse and needs a notebook computer that drives two different video screens because she is concurrently working in two databases. This means that if we want to take a trip that involves more than a weekend, we need to take the entire set-up with us — and then she has to work during normal working hours. It's hard to take side trips under those conditions. We only made a few excursions, but those we took were extraordinary.

With Moty Hen as our guide, we made two weekend trips: a tour of a one-man sugarcane processing facility, and the tour of a very small cigar manufacturing company.

b 16 boiling sugarcane

While the cigar manufacturing company had only six people rolling cigars from the tobacco leaves, you could see in one building the entire process from the arrival of newly dried tobacco leaves, through the drying and storage of those leaves, to cutting them up and distributing them to the people who are rolling the cigars, to the presses that compacted the leaves that resulted in the final product. You also saw the process of putting each cigar into cellophane and depositing them in cigar boxes. From there the boxes ended up in a substantial room that was carefully controlled for humidity.

b 17 cigar press

Before leaving this section, I’d like to put a plug in for Moty Hen. He is a really amazing/interesting man. He’s Israeli, but he came to Panama in 1984. Over his years traveling around Panama, he’s become something of a private guide. It’s not his primary line of work, but he’s amazing at it. If you can explain the kinds of experiences you’d like, he’ll arrange it. Deep-sea fishing? Visiting an indigenous tribe? Bird watching? He and his wife (Rita) were working on creating a bed-and-breakfast at the end of our time, there. Here’s a link to it. Should you ever find yourself in Panama, you’ll do well to contact him and let him be your guide. Oh—he caters to Israeli’s. He’s undoubtedly the only Hebrew-speaking Panamanian tour guide in the world. 

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Restaurante Amigos and our trip to Costa Rica

Boquete has a bar for the ex-pats that was as close to “Cheers” as you could ever come. A number of the ex-pats would gather around four in the afternoon and eat and drink well into the night. I knew one man who often used the place as his office.

I mention Amigos because I had taken slave mindi there on Mother’s Day (May 10). As we eating our meal, I couldn’t help but notice a Scandinavian-looking woman who was clearly signaling from her poise (and from the particular table that she had picked) that she desperately wanted to be picked up. We invited her to our table.

She explained that this was her last night in Boquete; she was going home the next day. “Home” was a few hours north of the Panama / Costa Rica border on the Atlantic.

I asked about where she lived and she told us that she lived in such a remote and inaccessible community that it requires a 4-wheel-drive vehicle to reach it and you can’t even make the drive if there have been heavy rains. She lived in some kind of nature retreat. She said she was taking the bus down to David to transfer to the bus that would take her to the border. In all, about a 7-hour process.

I wondered whether we might have an opportunity, here.

I had wanted very badly to do some touring and photography in Costa Rica but we couldn't figure out how to get across that border. On the Pacific side of Panama you can get into Costa Rica on the Pan-American highway simply by driving 35 miles north of David. However, on the Atlantic side, there was no road across a substantial river. There was only a railroad bridge built by the Germans in World War II. I suppose I could write two or three pages about our experience getting to and then crossing the border, but I will tell you this: you would certainly not want to do this without somebody who’d done this many times and who spoke fluent Spanish. It was fairly harrowing.

She accompanied us to the town of our destination — which was where some friends of hers would come the next day to take her home.

She selected a (rather cheap/sleazy) motel for us and we went in town for drinks and dinner.

mindi totally didn’t think about the “don’t drink the water” rule and had ice with her drink. She didn’t have a reaction while on this trip. We spent three days in this little village, mostly just walking around.

At the end of our stay, we took a bus back down to the border. There, as we were going through the customs process, we were forced to purchase a “return ticket” from Panama to Costa Rica (“rules” and all that”). You can’t enter Panama without proof that you’ll leave.

By the time we returned to Boquete, she was starting to feel ill. Within a few days, she was seriously ill. The story of our hospital experiences with this would fill pages.

For those of you who don’t know us, Mindi is an RN in real life.

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Our Spectacular Frog Holiday

b 18 red frog stem

We took one spectacular four-day holiday. I had told our main guide, Moty (who is actually an Israeli who had lived in Panama for 25 years and spoke very good English), that I really wanted to photograph poison dart frogs. He arranged a trip for us to go by bus from one side of Panama to the other side across the Continental divide. It was about a three-hour bus ride. Of course you had to then add the hour that it took to get from Boquete (up in the mountains) to David (down by the sea).

Once we arrived at Bocas del Toro, Moty left us alone to settle into our rooms. When we next saw him he said he'd found a guide for us. He said that he found a guide who specialized in taking photographers around the islands to photograph poison dart frogs. I was delighted. Moty had the clever idea of incentivizing the guide by offering him five dollars bonus per species for the two days he had with us.

As a result of this, I was able to photograph something like 23 differently colored poison dart frogs. It was perfectly amazing. Sometimes when would we get to the island our new guide would run off and find a local person to help guide us just to speed things up. The locals knew which color frog was where. You might start down one path and find blue frogs and go down a little further and find yellow and black frogs. Truly an experience of a lifetime.

 

b 19 dime   b 20 blue frog   b 21 on hand

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Setting off four our New Life in Boquete, Panama

Mistress had wanted to limit us to three bags each.

But we were not sure when we’d be back. Packing the bags was very stressful, as I wanted enough of our formal dinner clothing to feel “at home.” Now: that’s a fundamental schism between Mistress and me: she wanted to “go native” and I wanted to live as I lived, just in a different place. Thus, our ideas of what to pack differed.

Without going into gruesome details, here’s a picture showing how heavily we were traveling.  Had I to do it over again, I wouldn't do this.  Mistress was right. Just take three suitcases, not three duffle bags.

b 01 our luggage

We flew out of San Antonio directly to Panama City. Fortunately, an ex-pat person in Boquete was guiding us through this process. I assure you, without that help it will be very hard figure out how to get from the International Airport in Panama City across town to the national airport, have the bags taken by van up to Boquete, be met in the city of David, receive the car we had pre-purchased from another ex-pat from Boquete who did this as a full-time job, and follow him the hour trip from sea level to Boquete—at 3,900 feet. 

This image was taken in the middle of this little community. It gives you a sense of the place.

b 02 in town

We stayed in a motel for a few weeks while our ex-pats’ contacts found a place for us. It was stunning. Here a couple of shots of the two-bedroom bungalo where we stayed for the year.

b 03 distance shot  b 04 rainbow over house

The town was lovely. It is the center for high-altitude coffee plantations for Panama. It was settled in the early 1900s by some Swiss couples. In the 1980s a wealthy American developer began what is today a five-star resort and spa called the Valle Escondido Resort and Spa. You can look it up on the Internet. It’s actually a mostly-American community that exists separate and apart from Boquete. Guarded gates, secure walls.

I mention Valle Escondido because it was the catalyst for what became the explosive growth and development of Boquete. Now, it’s rather like living in Vail, Colorado. It’s inexpensive to live there and you can dine at marvelous restaurants or at local dives and cafeterias. In fact, you can get far more food than you can eat for about $6 in these cafeterias; there are three of them in Boquete.  Here, slave mindi are at our favorite restaurant.

b 05 dining out

They also had a good number of festivals in Boquete: here is a selection of images:

b 06 festival   b 07 festival   b 08 festival   b 09 festival

Lower left: Mistress (Karen) and slave mindi.

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