I have two deep dark bruises on my arms, and a long cut on
the side of my neck. My back hurts, despite all the stretches, as if I’d been
tortured on an old-fashioned rack. I’m dealing with the expected sub drop by
cuddling under the blanket, drinking port and watching some silly TV. But it’s
all worth it. Last night, I got to dance with her and her teasing, playful,
dominating and sometimes cruel, slithering over my body and leaving me in gasps
and shivers, rope….
Rope, by the way, is yet another example of N(ot) M(y)
K(ink) that has with time and exposure become a burning desire. I had my first
experience of being bound and suspended at Fetfest, by the amazing Murphy Blue
(I had no clue who he was at the time, either). I loved the feeling of his rope
against my skin, when he slid it over my naked body and tied me into shapes I
didn’t know my body could make. The first time, seeing I had no prior
experience, he was particularly gentle and careful, pausing to ask if I was
doing ok, and making sure the rope didn’t bite too much into my flesh, that the
position didn’t strain my joints. It was very technical, and yet, I saw the
subtle dance of his hands as the rope glided and almost tied itself into knots
on my body, and lifted me off the ground, limb by limb. I went into the scene
awaiting a result, but it was the process, the rhythm, the beauty of his
movements, the tactile sensation of the rope that got me hooked…
And so, last night, in a class on kinesthetic rope with
Midori, I thought I knew what to expect. I knew already that for me being bound
is an act of domination that forces me into a different psychological state
than spanking or sex. Being tied and, especially, being suspended transforms me
into an aesthetic object, and the state of becoming art, while still a state of
submission, is more akin to being elevated than being broken and forced to
submit. The limitation of my movements is also different with rope than being
held down or cuffed to the bed – while I can’t move on my own, I become a
marionette, a puppet whose body can be set into motion by a pull of the string.
In a way, the rope becomes my dominant, the rope moves me. When I was suspended
by Murphy Blue, he pushed me, gently and let me feel how the motion continued
by itself, as I spun around slowly, almost deliberately, until he stopped me
with just one finger. And then, of course, there was the feel of the rope: the
fibers scratching or soothing, gently restraining or biting. The second time he
suspended me, he let me feel some of the rope’s cruelty, as he tightened it
around my body with sharp pulls, letting it cut into my breasts and my waist,
eliciting sharp sighs of pain and pleasure.
But last night…. Last
night managed to surprise me. I was wearing a sweater, and couldn’t feel the
texture of the rope as it circled me. And yet, its movement, slow and
lingering, fast and sharp, the rhythm of its dance as it slid over my arms and
between my legs, so sensual, so erotic… In a matter of moments, Midori managed
with a few barely visible movements to get me out of my head, throw me
off-balance, de-center and draw me into a dance. I started as a shy and
somewhat stiff participant, unsure how to react and what was expected of me,
and before I knew it I became part of a conversation, struggling against the
pull of the rope, tugging playfully at its tail, then gasping as I was suddenly
yanked back and down, my body forced to the floor, flattened out, immobilized without
ever even being touched. In less than ten minutes Midori brought me into
sub-space, something that’s fairly rare to me, and as I previously thought,
impossible without an intimate connection and deep knowledge of your partner.
And then, still only using the rope, she made me crawl to my daddy, who took
over the reins and took care of me.
I felt like I’ve been made love to in the most physical,
kinky and sensual way. And there was not a single knot tied the entire class.
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