Got Rope? by Mollena There are forty-two reasons, on any given
day, why kinky stuff gets my tingly bits tingling. For the most part,
what I love most about BDSM is the connection with the person (or
people!) with whom I’m playing. I’m one of those bottom/submissive/slave
types who occasionally frustrates top/dominant/master types when
negotiating play. Oftentimes, when asked “So! What do you wanna do when
we play?” I’ll respond, “Well, what really makes YOU
hot and horny?” I’m not trying to shirk responsibility for my pleasure,
really! But my gut-level response is whatever truly pleases them will go a long, long way towards pleasing me .
“By why? Why do you do that kinky shit?” Not only do I get asked
this question quite often; it’s one I asked myself while I was trying to
figure out if I was actually going to go through with exploring BDSM.
There are plenty of whys. At the root of my pleasure in bottoming or submitting is knowing
that the person with whom I am sharing this intimate exchange is
thoroughly enjoying the scene and having a great time playing with me.
When I get to see the smile on the top’s face, or sense their arousal,
feel the building energy and excitement as they plot their next move, as
they revel in the pleasure and pain they extract as they direct the
orchestra of sensations that I will be experiencing and feeding back to
them, I find a profound level of fulfillment. Yes, of course, there are
some styles of play I prefer over and above others, however at the
center of my sexual satisfaction is feeling connected and cared for by
my partner, and the knowledge that our dynamic is mutually fulfilling.
It is important for me to feel connected with the person I play
with, even if the type of scene we’re doing has the framework of
something humiliating or frightening. One of the most connected forms of
play in which I engage is rope bondage. When I first became involved in the BDSM scene, I was at a play
party watching several couples doing rope bondage scenes. There was a
guy tying up some gals tits and a woman with some thin cord doing some
kinda macramé shit on this guy’s twigs-and-berries and I watched, a bit
puzzled. I didn't get it. It seems really t.
e..d...i...o...u...s and I soon wandered off to watch a scene where
three people were beating the crap out of someone shuddering and wailing
and screaming and...giggling? Yeah, giggling on the floor. That had
drama! Excitement!! Action!!! This rope shit was not capturing my imagination. Like, at all. Want to give rope play a try? Some suggestions to get you started:
My first dominant was really
into a style of bondage commonly referred to as kinbaku, or shibari in
the USA. It’s a lot of rope, usually jute or hemp, and sometimes it is
used as a way to suspend folks off of the ground, in defiance of several
laws. Most notably, gravity. I wasn’t having any of it. As a fat chick,
I was not at all interested in looking like a tied roast about to
braise in a 450 degree oven, ya feel me? But one of the things I love most about being submissive is that
I’ve agreed to obey. So, I found myself trussed, twisted and tied, and
somewhat taken-aback when I found myself slowing down, my senses
heightened, my state of mind smoothed out, yet amped up, as the ropes
went on me for the first time. My dominant wasn’t much of a talker while
he was in the midst of administering rope bondage, but I soon realized
that the very act of him laying yard after yard of earthy hemp rope
across my skin was its own form of communication. The rope was an
extension of his touch, and remained in place even after his hands had
passed on to the next wrap, looping the next tie around this wrist and
that ankle, over, under and around my breasts. Then I was in this kind
of between place, adrift, yet alert; present in my body in a way I’d
never been before, and yet somehow diffused throughout the network of
rope. When I saw how he stepped back to study his handiwork, when he
whispered to me how beautiful I looked at his disposal, at his mercy, in
his ropes, I felt beautiful. I wasn’t
self-conscious about my body; my body was thrumming with limitless
energy. I was alive, alert and at his command. That was a heady thing,
and being in rope brings me to that space of feeling like the gorgeous,
helpless captive all over again. Even the act of having the rope removed became a wondrous process.
The rope left beautiful marks that spoke eloquently of the pleasure,
discomfort and yeah, sometimes outright pain of being bound. I was being
released back into the Default World, and the connection between us was
moving back into the ethereal plane. For a while, there had been a
solid, physical manifestation of that connection, and that is a marvel
to behold. I was hooked. Don Sir — DonSirPhotography.com Why do I love rope bondage? The loss of control over parts of my body is deeply intoxicating.
The idea that movement itself, the one thing since birth that we
struggle to achieve and maintain, is now in the hands of someone else —
that is something dangerous. Excitingly so.
It occurs to me that the secret wormhole I find when doing bondage
is not just the loss of control: it is the deeper sense that every
segment of rope is touched and energized by the person applying the
bondage. That focused intent, that specificity can elevate the inanimate
rope to its own heightened state. It is as though every section of rope
is imbued with and carries the energy, control and caress of the one
who is in control of it. As the bondage becomes more binding or more complex, it is as though
you are held in a physical manifestation of the thoughts of the person
slowly taking from you the control of your limbs, skin, body — rope
bondage can get to the point where even your breathing is restricted by
the rope top. Imagine if every caress you felt while making love lasted
and abraded and caressed and marked your skin in an after-shock of taut
tension and sensation. It is an echo that intensifies instead of fading. It is a restriction that frees you to struggle and relinquish your control. If you add to that the many textures of rope, it is even more . Engaging. Soft silk ropes, slick serpentine nylon, earthy heady
hemp, scritchy jute, stiff cotton. All of these have their own notes in
the symphony of surrender. Simple, elusive, complex, difficult, joyous,
terrifying, soft, brutal, beautiful. I have many friends who are “riggers,” the term sometimes used for
people who do the rope wrangling in a bondage scene. There’s a certain
degree of technical skill needed to achieve the more complex types of
rope bondage, and I do love being able to let myself go in the hands of
those people who know what they’re doing. Sometimes, scenes can take
weeks of prep, days of planning, and hours to execute. Sometimes they’re
big, grandiose performances and I love that. Sometimes it’s just a
simple piece of cotton rope around your wrists, holding your hands above
your head as your lover whispers to you of the beautifully awful things
they’re about to do to you. I love that, too. Whatever the set and setting, exploring rope bondage is a wonderful
path to erotic intimacy. I hope to keep exploring this path for as long
as I have friends and lovers for whom a hank of rope and a willing
victim puts a twinkle in their eyes, glimmering with the promise of
sweet surrender and agonizing sensual bliss. |
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CategoriesBDSMbondage Bondage Massage Bondassage Bondassage For Lovers Bound Massage erotic Kinky Massage Kinky Sensual Massage massage Midori Sensation Play Tips Sensory Deprivation Massage sensual Sensual Bondage Sensual Bondage Massage Sensual Domination submission You're Bound To Surrender
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