It was the first evening of play. A huge playspace, with several small rooms and one gigantic. The latter had so many suspension-frames that I could not actually count them all. Does anyone knows how many there was? And all of these points were more or less busy within 30 minutes from the space had opened. People tying, getting tied, tying themselves up, all of this, everywhere. Had I died and come to heaven? No, just seen the playspace at Shibaricon for the first time. It waseasy to walk around, watch, talk to people, perv, drool, think. As with the learning thing, just watching people tying or interacting gave you ideas, inspired and made you hot under your collar.
The dungeon monitors were clearly visible, helpful and easy going. Water-stations was within easy reach, sheets and towels were available to cover the floor with. These details, so minute but so important, made it feel like the most well organised and cared for event I’ve ever attended. No wanky men was to be found anywhere (yay!), no unsolicited pestering took place and the space had in general a very strong vibe of ‘lets have a bloody good time!’ and wow, people did have fun. The focus was clearly on rope, but there was so much different eye-candy and interesting play going on, it would have been practical to turn into an owl in order to take it all in. While one heavy humiliation scene took place, including a pug snout; in another there was a nazi role-play interrogation scene, complete with smoke-machines as ‘gas’. Although there was many, many different constellations of play, there was still primarily more male (by quick estimate of judgemental eyes) riggers than female. This though, did not mean that women were not tying, because oh yes they did… Just considerably more men tying.
After having seen one particular hot scene, staring my eyes out and probably dribbling all over my clothes, I swallowed a big lump of nervousness that had gathered in the mid-section of my throat and decided to give tying a bit of a go. Cue search for rope-bottom! After a while I was lucky enough to run into Ava, a brainy pervert that had been a demo-bottom in an earlier class, and we had also spoken in a presentation on kink and academia. Bubbly, smiling, brainy, expressive and that distinctive awesome geekyness about her, what not to like? I did manage to ask if she wanted to engage in some filth, i.e. rope and got a positive response. We decided to find each other when I’d picked up rope from my room and to then go and look for a free space. Yes, I had been so doubtful about potential play that I did not wanted to jinx anything, thus leaving the ropes in the hotel-room. Getting through to the elevators, picking up the rope and going back down became a time for gathering the thoughts and plans for potential evilz, plans which had started to take shape. That kind of shift of focus is always rather interesting, one in which the mind prepares the body of what it is about to do. After finding each other again we then found a play space, set it up and went through the usual Q & A of negotiations that are so very vital when playing with someone new. A feeling, a certainty that the nervousness present earlier had now turned into a specific focus, a focus on her, and her alone.
Her top had some kind of snap-buttons. The sound of this coming undone in one quick movement is still fresh in my mind. So are the shivers that travelled through her body as the rope started to encase her upper body. So much else is gone, at least in terms of what happened when and how. Can remember a feeling, an intense feeling, and a couple of signposts during the play, such as the tenugui (washcloth with patterns printed) dipped in water hitting her body, falling repeatedly, slapped over the skin turning it red. The skin of her thighs turning even more red after palm-strikes. Deep breaths during some of the slow movements in the floor work. Sweat and body heat, the wet cloth so much colder than both of us. Squeezing her hand to check in, her squeezing back so hard the hand which has just landed on her thigh started to ache, and then knowing everything is alright or no: it is better than alright. Rope wrapped around the neck? I’m not sure, but there was certainly some kind of breathlessness. Her body moving, manipulated, pushed; her body moving with so much grace and power in the same time. Thinking and wishing to go even deeper, quicker, heavier, but resisting that primal urge when seeing her resting on her back, tied up, smiling, a faint but yet distinctive smile and somehow, despite music and people and play going on all around us, it was so silent. Resisting the urge to hurt her even more. There would be a next time.
This is what I am hoping, that there will be a next time.