Shackles

I bought iron shackles at the MD renaissance festival in September. It happened in a sort of weird way. I was walking around with a guy I’d been dating (if briefly – that has since ended), and someone he kind of knew walked up to him to show off the iron shackles he’d purchased. I was immediately fascinated, and I asked him to show us where he got them. All three of us wandered around, shopped, and talked for most of the rest of the day. He indeed led us to the blacksmith, where I bought my own set of shackles.

I didn’t get fetlife names for any of the kinky people I met, including the man who showed us to the shackles and we spent a good deal of time with, which I regretted a great deal afterwards. That guy contacted me this week (hurrah for reconnecting), and it got me thinking a bit about chains and shackles again, among other things. I’d been wondering more about steel bondage anyhow, and had been finding some interesting tumblr photos. I’ve used handcuffs a few times, and was wrapped up in chains once casually at a party, but haven’t ever spent a good amount of time in that kind of bondage. Most of my bondage experience is with rope, which I adore, but chains appeal for a distinctly different reason.

I like rope because of the smell and texture, the ability to tease and connect with your partner through the act of tying, and the variety of painful and unique positions. Rope gives me a chance of escape, which enhances my struggle.

Chains and metal bondage, however, fascinate me because they are so unyielding. There is absolutely no chance of escape. They are cold and hard.

I’ve wanted to use my shackles, but haven’t been with anyone I really trust to use them since buying them. I’ve been afraid to use them on my own (I can cut myself out of my rope should something go wrong, I can’t do that with metal). Last night, I finally said fuck it and locked myself in. In doing so, I learned a few things.

1) With some maneuvering and finagling, I can wriggle myself out of the cuffs.

2) The snick/clank of the lock immediately rachets my arousal up several notches. I can only imagine how much it would do so were I not the one holding the key.

3) Holy hell easily-achieved strong orgasm. Want more chains.

Sacrilege

This post is entirely inappropriate for posting on a religious holiday…but at least the play wasn’t on a cross?

In general, public play has always tended to be more pain-centric for me. In Pittsburgh, I was so new to things, and public play was always focused on impact play. In DC, I got a bit more adventurous with play, and there are so many more venues for public play. Thing is, whenever people tried to use a vibrator or get more sexual in nature in public, I froze up.  I now realize that I just wasn’t comfortable with those people touching me that way for some myriad of reasons. They were poly and had a primary, or we hadn’t played together more than once before, there wasn’t a connection (feeling objectified by someone for real, not for show, isn’t hot to me), or I just plain wasn’t sexually attracted to them at all. Even if we’re not about to jump into bed, I need to want the other person to touch me, which requires some level of attraction and comfort. Basically, I can’t get off from playing with just anyone, and while I might agree to play or practice rope or something with someone, that doesn’t mean I’ll react well to them touching me sexually.

I also think another part of my inability to get sexual in public was because pure pain, while cathartic, doesn’t get me sopping wet or anything.  I can attain a physical release from intense pain, but it doesn’t get me “ready to go” like other forms of play. This is part of why I’ve kind of strayed away from intense pain scenes since I first started realizing this a few months ago. Rope more than anything, however, has always evoked a more sensual response from me. Very intense or restrictive bondage makes me far hotter than pain does. Strangely enough, though, while rope was my “gateway” into BDSM in the first place, in my kink exploration it hasn’t been the focus. Since the first event I attended in Pittsburgh last January, I was preoccupied with exploring my masochistic side with rare exceptions. In DC, I attended rope events, but they were educational and it wasn’t “play.” Basically, public play with rope in a non-educational way has been a new experience for me over the last several weeks.

Anyhow, I came in public last night for the first time. I didn’t know I could do that, and it surprised me. I actually got turned on enough and was in the moment enough that I was able to focus only on the two of us and what we were doing, not the people around us or anything else. Then, ta-da, climax. And, have to say, not just a climax, but a really intense one compared to my orgasmic history. Part of me was turned on enough that I probably could have orgasmed at least one more time, but simultaneously the first one left me shaking considerably and a second probably would’ve left me hanging by the ropes alone.

So, good to know that’s possible.

In other news, 3.5 weeks from tomorrow I’ll be done with grad school!! Guess I need to stop procrastinating and do my presentation for tomorrow, then all I will have left for that class is attendance.

Rope is my happy place

I officially love jute – it’s the perfect amount of scratchy. Hemp is nice because it’s softer and so is more sensual, but the masochist in me enjoys struggling against the jute. Also, if I haven’t said it before, hogties and hair bondage are pretty much my favorite rope things, especially when it’s all tight and predicament-y.

Rope puts me in my happy place… seriously, I feel ridiculously calm and content. The lingering rope marks and soreness make me smile :).

I also very much appreciate creative tops that are inventive without my prompting. Being teased by a sadist is essentially BDSM flirting, only (in my opinion) way more enjoyable.

The Allure of Rope Bondage

Tie me, bind me, entice me with your bondage. Capture me, restrain me, seduce me with your rope.

Can you tell what is on my mind?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I want, what I’m seeking long term, and how my reality measures up to that. I’ve been struggling with casual v. serious, and what things I’m willing to do outside of a committed relationship. I don’t want to make decisions that make me question who I am or what I stand for.

I think it is possible to play outside of a relationship without it being a negative thing, but it is still a fine line for me. Play inspires certain feelings in me, and that tends to intensify my trust, respect, admiration, and attraction to the person I’m playing with (unless it goes poorly, in which case replace those words with their antonyms).  I have to be careful not to get overly attached to those who are not romantically interested in me. As a result, I’m trying to be slightly more aware of my surroundings. It isn’t easy.

In the meantime, I’m going to go to the rope bite meeting tomorrow night. It will be held at a private residence, which is sort of nerve-wracking for me, but it isn’t too far from my house so I figured I can make it out. It gives me a deadline to stop studying, too, which is probably a good thing. Plus, I am really, really craving rope.

I’ve mentioned before I like strict rope bondage. I’m pretty flexible, and I want to be entirely helpless, completely unable to move. Hell, I can just stay that way peacefully by myself for a bit and be in a good place, I don’t even need to anything else to happen. Of course, pain, teasing, etc. is all fun, but right now I’m really just wanting the rope above and beyond anything else.

I was thinking last night of different bondage positions that are intriguing. This photo particularly caught my eye: http://fetlife.com/users/143295/pictures/2314927. If you scan to the previous photo, you can see the multi-colored rope. I love the artistry of the photo.

I’d love something similar, only with less leverage (shorter distance from ankles to wrists). Moreover, I think it’d be especially fun with harsher/more restrictive bondage around the chest area. What can I say, good chest harnesses just really emphasize the helpless factor to me.

Thing is, I crave the entire experience. The smell of the hemp or jute, the rough but worn feel as it caresses my skin almost as an afterthought, moving slowly around as a tie is wrapped or completed. The slight strain in my shoulders as a hogtie is pulled tighter and tighter until it is just tight enough that I can barely squirm. The swelling of my chest, and the rasping of carpet against my increasingly sensitive skin… I want all of it. Clothed, unclothed. Sexual, asexual.

It seems bizarre, sometimes, to crave something like that. It isn’t a dessert, or a song that gets stuck in my head. It’s the feeling of letting go that I want to capture. I appreciate not having to worry about my fidgeting or my restlessness – it puts me at peace. It isn’t the same as serving, and getting the pleasure of pleasing my Dom, but there are some elements of being the proper canvass for the person I’m playing with that appeal.

In another sense, I’d almost be better off as a rope top myself. I know many ties, I appreciate the artistry of it, and it is kind of like a puzzle. I also can be pretty inventive in positioning. That said, outside the artistic factor, I have no desire to have someone at my mercy (excepting certain circumstances where I sexually would have my way with my partner, but those are few and far between).