Becoming a Rope Slut
“I think I’ll have you tied up and suspended tonight,” Sir M told me when I greeted him at a recent dungeon party. This was to be another chapter in my training and I was grateful for the de-emphasis on pain and the focus, instead, on altered states.
Rope bondage is an area of BDSM that attracts many admirers with the beauty and creativity of the craft, combined with the image of seeing a submissive completely helpless. A good rope practitioner knows how to lay the rope in an artful way to accentuate the body and personality of the one being bound. Rope bondage for suspension requires great patience and skill so Sir M asked a rope aficionado called Sir P, to do this for him.
I peeled off my dress and prepared to be bound
Sir P is an elegant older gentleman with the air of a doctor or professor. He is renown for his extraordinary rope skills and his speed so I was flattered to have my first session with the best. Assisting him was his faithful slave, looking like a sexy librarian. She sat off to the side, poised to serve. I noticed that she was pure protocol – she deflected any attention from herself and if she needed to ask a question or leave, she formally asked his permission. She never spoke unless spoken to, and when she did, it was in a raspy whisper.
Sir M gave me a direct order: “take off your clothes and your shoes.”
I pouted for a moment because I thought the suspension could be accomplished clothed. Also, I’d worn a latex mini-dress and it takes some time to take it off because the clingy rubber fabric is literally skin-tight. But I peeled off my dress and 6-inch stilettos as Sir P set up.
He arranged ten bundles of black ropes in slightly varying thicknesses and lengths on a bench. The first was wrapped around my hips. Sir P explained that this would hold the bulk of my weight, followed by wraps around my chest and legs. He was good about communicating what he was doing to me, each step of the way. Another rope was wrapped in a pattern around my chest and back so that my breasts popped out between the ropes.
He then wrapped a whole network of different ropes around me to make a harness with a bold pattern. The ropes were all threaded through a hoop ring hanging inside a big wood frame. When he was satisfied he pulled the main ropes tight and hoisted up my feet so I was horizontal. He added support for my neck and then I was comfortably flying.
The absolute freedom of bondage
I loved the feeling of weightlessness and of being a suspended object. I was aware that I was on display and several people had gathered to watch this “scene.” I couldn’t really see everyone but many complimented me on it afterward. Sir M was viewing from an armchair a short distance away and chatting with another dom. Although out of my line of vision, Sir M was still clearly in charge of me. Sir P checked on me frequently to make sure I was OK, feeling for cold extremities or numbness.
Soon I’d settled into the suspension and was mewing like a happy kitten. I felt secure tied up like that and not a shred embarrassed by my nudity. The ropes enveloped me and made me feel safe in spite of my vulnerable position. This confinement allowed me to surrender completely. It was a surreal, womb-like experience hanging in that dungeon room, with echoes of loud slaps and girls screaming off in the background.
In one corner a large girl wearing pigtails was bent over a spanking bed while a man used all his might to whack her behind with the seat of a stool. I was thankful that Sir M left me there to just soak it in and enjoy the experience and didn’t torture me with spankings. That would happen later.
Sir M had explained that some people can enter “sub-space” through suspensions — a trance-like state that’s very desirable in BDSM. I felt I gained a certain calm happiness that may have been the first step to subspace. But on this day, after 20 or 30 minutes the ropes started digging into me in an uncomfortable way and Sir P decided it was time to let me down. That took a while as well — he had to unwrap things in reverse order, taking care not to let any rope ends snap and hit me.
I felt oddly intimate with Sir P, as if the ropes were an extension of his arms hugging me.
Back on the ground, ecstasy awaits the rope slut
Once back on the ground, Sir P explained that I’d be very cold and should sit still for a while. He ordered his slave to wrap me in a Snuggie blanket (black, of course!) and sat me on a chair. I bundled up and started quivering and sighing deeply and feeling orgasmic waves of pleasure spasmodically shooting through my body.
Sir M came over to take care of me. He stood behind me and absorbed my energy spasms so he could feel my excitement and bliss too. Sir M hugged me and made me feel comfortable and safe to vocalize the swirl of emotions I was experiencing. I amused the two Sirs as I continued through periodic waves of ecstasy and amazement.
“It’s the endorphins and adrenaline pumping through you,” explained Sir P.
“Enjoy it!” Sir M piped in, “Now you’re a rope slut.”
It’s true, I can’t wait to be suspended again for a longer time. I crave the sensation of being immobilized by rope. It’s such a sensuous medium in the right hands. It makes me feel safe and cared for, and this frees me from the worries of daily life. The suspension by rope felt like a rite of passage, a path to awareness.
The prospect of losing myself through the physical transformations and altered states possible in BDSM play make this exquisite torture all the more appealing.
Daisy TraLaLA (@DaisyTraLaLA) is a saucy Angelino kinkster who glides with ease between the worlds of tech, art, cuisine, electronica and dungeon parties. Check back every Tuesday for posts from her journey to the most divine surrender.
