July 1st, 2010
A short post today. It’s been a busy week and I have more things still to do.
What turns me on? I’ve posted about my fantasies. I’ve posted about my kinks. But what really turns me on? The simple things. What gets me going?
A deep kiss, full of passion.
The joy in his eyes and the smile on his lips.
A tight grip on my hair, right against the back of my head.
Light sucking and nibbling on my earlobes.
Harsh bites on my neck; inner wrists, elbows and thighs.
Hard pinching of my nipples.
Hard rubbing and sucking on my clit.
Naked bodies pressed together.
Sucking on a cock.
Open hand spanking on my bare ass.
A knife blade on my skin.
The smell of hemp and leather.
Rope holding me tight.
Pain coursing through my body.
Fear rumbling in my chest.
Giving up control, giving up completely.
May 13th, 2010
With apologies for last week’s post, I was not in the writing frame of mind…
He snapped his fingers with a smile, and my clothes came off. Shirt, shorts, shoes, socks. Piled neatly on the floor near the suspension ring, out of the way. Thirty feet of hemp, doubled up, around my waist three times, knotted and wrapped into a short tail. Sixty more feet, thirty for each leg, from waist to thigh, a small band, and up and down, thigh to waist. A drum tie. Tuck the tails into the wraps, a double coin for style.
I’m going to blindfold you, turn you upside down and spin you around, how does that sound?
Sure, sounds fun.
A carabiner in the crotch, catching all four runs of line. Hoist rope run through pulleys and ring, up I go, only slight pinching as the ‘biner shifts from down to up. Feet straight up, lift until only my fingertips touch the floor, feet below the beam. He sits in front of me, checking in, all is well.
Aren’t you under dressed?
Now you’re screwed.
A blindfold, tied around the head. Spinning and swinging, checking that all is secure.
Now I’m going to go get the stun gun.
Whimper, squirm, gasping for breath. He asks, receives and returns, electricity crackling. I yelp at every snap, louder at the noise than when it touches me. Unable to move, the shots with it flow into me. I squeal at the short bursts, my arms around my head, panting with fright. More spinning and swinging, more zapping and crackling. His voice breaks through again.
I’ll let you down after you do one hundred crunches. Do you understand?
Spinning, spinning, crunching up. Tired quickly and oh so dizzy.
Are you giving up?
Spinning and crunching and counting. The stun gun comes in to help motivate. My arms are numb.
If you pass out, I’ll leave you there.
Oh yeah, and breathing. Breathing and spinning and crunching and zapping.
How many now?
Are you giving up?
Should I get the dragon tail? See which of us can do finish the next 50 first?
More crunches, desperate to finish. Counting down now instead of counting up. People watching, some amused, some sympathetic.
Are you sure?
His arms around me and a table slid beneath me. Some one lifting my ass while he unhooks me from the ring, and down on my back. Gasping and shaking. Finally catch my breath and I feel him nearby.
Dragon tail. Scream. He moves around the table, snapping thighs, belly, breasts. My arms are still up around my head. I flatten out, but rock with each snap. Grabbing at the table for a moment before falling flat again. Legs curling up and back down. Tears come, filling the blindfold.
I straighten my legs, feet out, whimpering, crying. Screaming as he snaps the sole of my foot, curling up and forcing myself to flatten out. Shaking, crying, screaming, writhing.
A different sensation. Slapping my belly and thighs. The screaming stops, I sink into the more solid continuous pain, coming out for a vibrating yell.
More snapping, screaming, crying and then…
Stand up. Move it.
On my feet, blood rushing out of my head.
On your knees.
Down I go, back up, head down, knees spread, palms up. He circles snapping thighs, arms, breasts, long strokes on my back. I arch and squeal, and return to position. Head throbbing, but slowly calming.
He walks away and leaves me to come down. Tears stop, breathing calms, shaking quiets. Sound returns, cool air of the dungeon on my skin. I feel him in front of me. Blindfold is untied. Ordered to my feet, he unties the ropes, handing them up to me.
Can I have my girlfriend back?
Smiles and hemp coils. I take care of the rope, inspecting and coiling, putting it back in the crate. My stomach, reminds me I was abusive to it, spinning upside down. He sends me up for water, I down a few crackers and return. A few glasses later and I’m curled up by his side. All fuzzy and glowing from a spectacular scene.
February 11th, 2010
Do you want to do flogging or rope tonight?
Sure, get me the rope.
Did you stretch?
No…and I stretch while he explains to her why.
Arms behind my back for a box tie. He wraps bands around my chest as well, a suspension-worthy box tie. Two lengths of 30′ and I could still eel out if I wanted to.
Do I feel screwed yet? No, I still have my feet.
He grabs the third. This one really constricts my movement, my arms cannot separate at all now, they move as a unit.
I still have my feet, but I know I’m screwed.
Up on the bed, legs crossed, he ties my ankles together, having to use a 30′ instead of a 15′ to make it sustainable, as the rope loops up around my neck. He wraps the rope between ankles and neck, tying it off to keep it from sliding. I have a wrapped handle on front and back and I’m proper fucked now.
He rolls me around, teasing, caning, Uncle. Writhing and squealing, gasping, trying to catch his eye through my legs, too close to the edge of the bed to protest too much.
He lets me breathe, then tests my trust. Balanced on the edge he lets me fall little bits, I shriek and he catches me, every time. I look into his eyes, the joy is there, the love is plain.
Time to test the new head box. He lifts me to the floor, setting me on the cold cement. The heavy box comes down, cutting me off. I am gasping, afraid Uncle will return. A stray comment and he is back, pulling my bra down and clamping my nipples. He pulls on the chain, pinches my thighs. I thrash and scream and he giggles. The box needs more padding, the hole is too big, I keep hitting my teeth on the edge. But it does a good job of isolation.
The box comes off, we give him feedback, he thanks us for trying it out.
Nipple clamps become a lead, he drags me across the floor, scooting and yelping. The right one keeps coming off, squeals when he puts it back on. Over to another chain, hooking them up above my head, I have to balance to keep from pulling them harshly. A bamboo cane now, ass and thighs, I roll and yelp and breathe with the strikes. He hits my breast and I squeal, my clamped nipple brings a scream as I find his eyes and his joy brings me solace.
My hips ache and he lets me down, having to reattached the pesky right one, yet again. Whimpering yelp. Rolling onto my back, pillow provided, the cane goes for the tender bits and thighs and ass. Then up to sitting again, he takes the clamps off, gasping and leaning against him. A moment’s reprieve.
The cane returns, I move wrong, blocking in a moment of weakness. He grabs my septum and scolds me, I cringe and grovel and force stillness as he returns to it harshly. I thrash, but keep his target clear.
If I feel teeth you’ll regret it.
I would never. My mouth is open with the pain, it will not close on flesh. Pain space is coming now, screams dwindle into heavy breathing. He moves around the body, I sink into it, and he lets me. Closing my eyes with a hand, he leaves me to drop into space.
The rope, holding me, cradling me, keeping me safe and leaving me vulnerable. My hands have shifted, but they still are held fast. My arms cannot move, but there is no pain. Circulation is complete, the problems easily solved. My neck begins to grow weary, I bring up a knee to rest it on. Not for long, I like the pull of the rope. The handle at my throat is not too close and pulls evenly.
I sink deep into the rope. I can hear the other scene, but I don’t care. I am here. I am happy. I am in His rope again. His hemp digging into my skin. Keeping me just how he wants me. Held in position, easily moved and open access to everything. A prisoner tie, and perfect.
He returned and freed my neck and ankles, ordered me to kneel, knees spread wide. He smacked my inner thighs, bright red hand prints. Pinching the bruises and putting me back into pain space.
Can I put needles in you?
I did not say no.
May I put needles in you?
Yes or no.
I waffle, because my brain isn’t screaming no, and he wants to, and she has them, but I don’t think I’m ready yet. It’s been a big scene and I don’t know that I want to add that on top of it.
Yes or no.
Was that hard?
Yes, my brain was arguing with itself.
My feet hurt from the pressure of kneeling. He pulls me up and begins untying.
The feel of the rope, shivers through my body. Murmuring, spacing. He drags it across my nipples and I whimper. Pure rope pleasure. One. Two. Three. So good to me.
The rope is off, we hug, just sharing the floating energy. The ropes are waiting, I sit with them, run them through my fingers, coil them and put them away.
Practice is over, everyone is gone. We sit for a few moments, reflecting.
Rope marks and bruises. Joy and love. We needed this. Reconnected.
December 23rd, 2009
Wish list of things I’m not getting for Christmas, but some day… I always love some day… it’s going to be such a great day…
Black Leather Straitjacket
Heavy Canvas – Suspension-worthy Straitjacket
200′ of Hemp that smells like Hemp (yes, I’m still a bit bitter)
Black Leather Boned Corset
Black Leather Skirt
Matching Black Silk Bras and Panties(some say it oughta be a thong)
Purple, Red, Black, Green, Blue Lingerie sets
A Little Black Dress
“Proper Footwear” ™
- slippers for the lingerie
- heels for the LBD
- thigh-high boots
A Nice Black Garter
October 21st, 2009
I saw the strap swinging out of the corner of my eye. I looked, was it really there? Was it really the suspension strap? Oh gods, please say yes. I rushed out to see them with the extension ladder, putting up the clamp and strap. He asked me to get the rest of the gear and I bounced all the way back to the tub and brought out the rest. We hooked up the ring and then decided to move it over a little more. He put it more centered and then added the paper airplane that goes with the rig always. I grabbed the ring and began spinning gleefully. He laughed and took the pulleys off my shoulder and I spun even more. Then I swung, my feet slipping on the floor, back and forth on the ring, from hands out of practice, and my smile grew even wider. He took a few swings himself, let the bouncers have a pull and then tied it off to wait. There would be Flying tonight.
I was bouncy and giddy as the club opened, pouncing all my friends with glee at the prospect of suspension later. They giggled and hugged me back, understanding my excitement. Things got going and the club started filling, and then he asked me to check on the hemp, make sure it was all in one tub, and then bring it out to our stage. I brought it out and we grinned at each other. It had been a long time, but there was no doubt, he was going to make me fly again.
I bounced, unable to contain my energy as he began to tie. He quizzed me here and there, and I was happy to note I had been imagining the tie correctly these past couple weeks in anticipation of this moment. When it was time to rig me to the ring, I lay on the mat, my feet still bouncing on the floor, grinning over at a few familiar faces in the crowd. Our photographer was snapping photos of the whole thing, but he seemed to catch me at moments when I was sinking into the rope, eyes closed and mind floating. I had to stop tapping my toes when he got to my ankles, my my fingers started tapping instead. Finally fully rigged it was time to go up.
He pulled me off the ground and my eyes flew open and I was in heaven. He got me hooked into the strap and with a couple quick adjustments we were ready. The slightly higher ring than usual actually helped get the rigging even and level. With the pulley tied out of the way, he grabbed my shoulders. Was I ready, oh I’d been ready all evening. We grinned at each other as he started to push, and then I was off, flying through the air, arms and legs spread wide, soaring high above everything.
It had been a long time since I’d been up, even longer since I’d been flying. But it all came back, the breathlessness, the glorious freedom, the total rush of it all. The energy was incredible, he was pushing me higher and higher, spinning and twirling me through the air. I can barely describe how good it felt, how grateful I felt, the energy flowing between us.
My stamina is not what it once was and I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer, but I asked to go for a spin. He happily obliged, twirling me faster and faster on the swivel. All the blood rushed to my head, harder that it had done in a very long time. But I wanted to go faster still. I forced my body to curl, and it actually made my head feel a little better, curled into my chest. Then I flattened out to try and slow, but it didn’t feel like it helped much at all. And then he was spinning me again, and I didn’t want it to stop. But when he went for a third round, I grabbed his arms and heard him laugh as I did stop myself.
He jumped back up, asking if I wanted another push, but I clung to him, getting my bearings and finally able to say I was done, my body would not forgive me if I pushed it any more that night. He quickly hooked the pulley up and had me down. I sank into the mats gasping for breath, not because I had forgotten to breathe, but because the energy was still raging through me and I was now on the ground in relative stillness. He quickly unrigged me from the ring and pulled me to my feet and I hugged him tight, so grateful, and needing to share the incredible energy he had given me. Finally able to take hold of the ring, he was able to untie me and pile up the ropes for me to take care of. When he was done, we hugged again, both relaxing down from the high of the scene, and still so very grateful.
He left me with the rope, to finish coming back to earth and take care of the hemp that had been holding my life by simple strands. I pulled it all to me, just feeling it in my hands for a few moments before sorting out the thinner lengths he’d used for my ankles. Starting with the big pieces, I ran them through my fingers, inspecting and feeling, enjoying the smell and the coarseness. Coiling and wrapping the rope and stacking it all together beside me, pausing occasionally to relax into myself.
I was nearly done, with just the little pieces left when one of the crowd could not stay away any longer. A girl came through the strapped off barrier and plopped down in front of me. She hadn’t seen the scene and wanted to know what I was doing, what the rope was for. So I explained the suspension and told her there were pictures in the back of other suspensions if she wanted to see what she missed. She picked up the rope I wasn’t working on and I motioned for her to put it down, barely not snatching it from her, I get more than a little protective of the rope, especially after a scene. She said she was just playing, coiled a little and then set it back down. When I picked it up to wrap it she told me her name and I told her mine and then she wandered off again. Finished cleaning up, I picked up all the coils and packed them away in the tub and then brought it back to our area to wait for the next scene.
I was buzzing with energy the rest of the night, eager to do my electric scenes, and very happy when he motioned me over be part of the second suspension as well. Remembering how her ties went made me very happy with myself. I grinned up at her as she flew, knowing she was feeling the same as I had earlier that night. There is nothing in this world like it.
September 16th, 2009
I helped a couple friends create scenes this weekend, and participated slightly in other informal scenes. Mostly I wandered around watching, being the voyeur. The first night I did not play at all. I just blinked at people reaching out to grab the ring on my collar. Whatever happened to respecting protocol?
Night Two. I had two scenes.
Lover asked what I wanted, and for once in my life, this weekend, I knew what I wanted and I asked for it. I wanted Rope. I wanted No Escape. I wanted as much rope as he could possibly use. We even dropped by my apartment and picked up all my new rope. There was a wooden frame laced with thick bungee cord into a spider web. He used all 150 feet of my new hemp to wrap me up. A chest harness, a corset, thighs wrapped, calves wrapped, arms wrapped. Then he used his own rope to secure every wrap of hemp to the web, as well as his rope cuffs to finish securing my hands, and a few extra ropes to lace my ankles to the eyelets on the frame. He pinched my nipples as he secured me, and then, with borrowed knife, he traced what flesh he had left exposed. He made me orgasm at knife point, over and over. Hard, soft, thrashing and still. The knife went away and he went back to pinching my nipples, taking his sweet torment while he made me orgasm for his pleasure. Then down to taste me, finish me with his tongue. He untied me slowly, pausing to steal orgasms ever now and then. Took me down, wrapped me up in his jacket and held me until we were both back to ourselves.
Master/Husband asked what I wanted, I told him I wanted sharp things. I wanted the Whartenberg Wheel, I wanted the two-pronged claw. He added a knife. He laid me out on the bed, and dragged the sharp metal along my skin. I yipped and screamed and moaned and gasped. Sensations wonderful, sharp, and delicious covering my body. He delighted in my sounds, repeating motions that created his favorite sounds. Drawing red designs in my flesh, but not cutting, never cutting, though oh did it feel like he was. Delighting in the twitching, tickling that drove me crazy, and the moan of satisfaction at the sharp stabbing that ended it. Until I could take no more, and raised my arms to him, and he entered them wrapping our arms around each other and just holding tight, sharing our love for each other.
And those were the good parts. But both scenes had parts that I will remember separately from the wonderfulness that I enjoyed with my partners. Both scenes had the intrusions that are the reason I shy away from public play. The beginning of the first scene was repeatedly intruded upon by our other lovers, poking and pinching me as though they were included in the scene by default, without asking. The second scene, others were invited to listen and comment on the noises I was making, and He held other conversations apart from our scene. Minor distractions and intrusion, but annoying to me, when I want to have a scene where I can lose myself in the scene and Be with my partner. Perhaps that is asking too much in public?
August 12th, 2009
Today I bought hemp from Twisted Monk. 1 length of 4mm 5 feet long. 2 lengths of 6mm 10 feet long. 5 lengths of 8mm 30 feet long. I do not spend money lightly. This is the next step in my suspension apprenticeship. I have taken this step to enable me to practice with the rope at home, on my own. I have made the commitment to myself to learn the skills well enough to be able to use my own rope to suspend people. Today I move forward.
July 29th, 2009
What would you Do with 300 feet of hemp?
Make a nest of it, probably.
The smell of hemp makes me float. Heavy, earthy and sweet. I could curl up in a pile of it and be content for days. Tie me up in it and I could be happy for weeks. The feel of it, scratchy, rough and tight. This rope bottom’s dream. Each scene, putting it away just so. Running it through my hands, every inch of it, looking, touching, smelling. Winding it up, wrapping it around, pulling it tight. The marks it leaves, sometimes lasting only moments, sometimes hours, sometimes days. Run a finger over them and just smile. Even the occasional rope burn, just reminds me of how good it feels.
A hemp hammock sounds divine.
June 20th, 2009
I want to be tied up so tightly, I cannot move. I want to feel the bite of the rope in my skin. I want it to be hemp – cotton and the blends are too soft – I want to feel the teeth of the rope.
I often have the desire to be tied up and tossed in the corner, but I’ve never indulged it. I usually feel this way when things are out of control and/or full of drama. I just want a break from it – a “sorry, can’t help you, I’m a bit tied up right now,” excuse. Tossed in a corner so everyone will just leave me alone. But I never get to do it. I have made the request a couple times, but whenever I do, he asks what is wrong and we talk it out. He knows I don’t really want to be ignored and tossed aside.
This is different. It isn’t the warm wrap, or the sense of safety. I want the tying – the wrapping, the tugging, the roughness, the attention. Attention to the rope, the knots, the pattern, to my body, to my mind, to my need for the rope. I want to feel not just secure, but restrained. I don’t want to be tied to something. I just want the rope, tight and secure – only rope. Mummified would take too much rope, I don’t need to be covered in it, I just want to be completely immobilized.
Why? Because I haven’t gotten to sink into the rope for awhile. Because I play with rope a lot, but lately it hasn’t been about the rope. It’s been about escape, or pain, or sex or flying, or discipline. Sometimes I just want it to be about the rope. About the fibers digging in and taking complete control of me. About the feel of the rope on my skin, the touch of his hand as he ties, the smell of the hemp, and the strength of the wraps.