Absinthe, Obedience, and the Dungeon Distillery Tour

There are distillery tours… and then there’s her distillery tour—equal parts educational, intoxicating, and wildly inappropriate for school trips.

It all started with a green glint in her eye and a whisper:

“Ever tasted obedience? It’s anise-flavoured and comes with a safe word.”

The Kilted Dragon had just finished her latest batch of absinthe, a vicious, verdant liquid that smells like forest secrets and tastes like submission. She handed me a glass, laced with sugar, then smirked as I sipped and promptly forgot my own name.

"Follow me,” she purred, unlocking a trapdoor under a fake barrel. Down we went into The Dungeon Distillery, where copper stills glowed like demonic altars and the air smelled of spice, leather, and lustful intentions.

"This is where I brew discipline," she said, tapping a vat labeled “Obeyoncé”.
In the corner: a rack. Not for drying herbs.

She walked me through the process: maceration, distillation, filtration… and punishment. Every spirit here had to earn its freedom.
“You want smooth?” she snapped, cracking a riding crop against the workbench. “Then you stir with respect, not sloppiness!”

She demonstrated how to bind a bottle with wax and a blindfold. I made one. She rejected it. Twice. The third time, I was rewarded—with a pat on the head and a firm, slow squeeze of my shoulder that nearly undid me.

Then came the Obedience Tasting Flight—four shots, four tasks.

1. Drink and kneel.

2. Drink and answer a personal question you’ve never admitted aloud.

3. Drink and be gagged.

4. Drink and accept your punishment for all three.

By the end, I was barefoot, breathless, and begging to be put on the bottling line full-time. She only laughed, pouring one final measure of absinthe and murmuring,

“There’s no cure for chaos, petal. But you can bottle it—and beg for more.”