Perfect soundtrack to this post:
His body slams into mine, and for a split second, the reflex is telling me to go for the throat and/or the crotch. But then, it is not a random person who just is holding me down, it is Lochai, who with a viciously wide grin has just attacked from nowhere. Pushing my body against a wall, I am made to understand that he saw me passing by and thought he would go for it. Apparently I deserved it after what I’ve done to Ava the night before…
“Lay out the ropes”
A black shoulder bag, already opened a bit. My knees hurt slightly against the carpet that can burn, but is does not really matter. Every nerve is focussed on following his orders. The first rope I catch is the vicious palm-frond, it makes a creaking noise and feels rough against the hands. I’m not making a single face as it is neatly put down on the carpet, followed by a a piece of jute that feels like silk in comparison. The ropes are sorted according to their kind, with all of the loops facing the same direction, hoping it is neat enough, keeping an attentive eye in his direction.
“Take this off”
His hand pull on the wrap that holds the kimono together. My fingers are shaking, trying the keep them calm enough to untie the knot which suddenly is so very secure. As you probably realised, I am already hyper aware of Lochai, his voice, posture, directions. Not just because of the potential threat, but because of an intense sense of wanting to submit, undergo what ever it was that he had in mind. There is a buzz, an attention towards being ready and prepared, at all times, standing at a mental attention.
When he is starting to tie, it is rough, scratchy, fast, tight but not numbing. The black palm-frond is not that nasty against the skin, the scratching is rather delicious and with quick movements my chest is tied into a TK. The heat from both of our bodies are working together. He is almost fully clothed, I am wearing only my knickers. Exposed and vulnerable, but yet, somehow, focus so strong. From one second to another, I’m suddenly on the floor, lying down, breathing, processing, the black rope pressing against the nipple, getting more and more uncomfortable, almost like nipple-clamps, as they dig into the sensitive, thin skin. His is talking to me, I can’t hear what he is saying, then nodding when hearing and understanding, moving wherever he wants.
Suddenly, a voice says something; a DM shyly pointing out that apparently, we have broken a rule of the play room when not using a sheet between us and the floor. Lochai laughs; we are both presenters and should know better, he is pointing the finger on me, who is all trussed up on the floor. Cue blushing from my part, smiles and blushes. A sheet is conjured from somewhere, and is placed on the floor.
“Spread it out. Make it work”
Note; I’m tied with the hands behind my back. Instead of being spaced out, there is another task yet again, and I start, as well as I can. Using the body, my mouth, crawling around; using what ever available to spread the unruly sheet out, it crinkles, get stuck. I’m told to hurry up. Instead of getting stressed the order centres the activity even more. I can do, I can do because it is what he wants me to do. He nods, and I’m down on the floor again, into a hog tie. Pulled upwards, the stretch, that missed feeling of ‘I can do this, I can breathe through it’ and succeeding. That kind of breathing and focussed attention, a pro-longed stretch, challenging and suddenly a hand around my throat. Another hand in my hair. Scalp aching, don’t know what kind of sounds are coming out from my mouth, when his hand is close, it opens up itself, it wants to be available, it is available. Body feeling warm, so is his, feeling it through the fabrics of his clothes against my naked skin. And if he order me to do something, in this position, hogtied, pulled up, stretched, I would make sure I would follow order, despite my current state. The thought hits the back of my head as a “WTF! I hardly know the dude, and yet, submitting so easily” but it is quickly put to the side. No time to doubt, just focus.
This is not about a ‘gift’ of submission, given away to be unwrapped/discovered/fostered and placed on a mantelpiece; but an active, ongoing relational action and reaction of dominance and submission, an act of submission in which the only thing that exist is that focus of knowing the self enough to just let go, knowing the self so well that the self is forgotten except for the action/behavior which is required. A feeling experienced very rarely.
Later, when I wrote to him on a slightly different subject, this what was said:
And you saw me, not only in the operative sense that you spotted me passing by and pounced, but during that whole scene, and it was frightening how quickly I fell into an embodied sense of submission, while still feeling secure enough to not feeling like a poseur. While undressing on your order, unpacking your rope, I could only care about that exact moment in time, your expressed wishes, and, (perhaps stupidly enough), trying to think ahead of any other that you might have had but not expressed yet. Rope feels different when laying them out for someone, and felt different when I placed them out for you.
The rope that came off was painful, it had dug into the skin enough to act almost as nippleclamps. Cue moans and ouches and enjoyment of a pain, induced through rope, through bindings, through pulling and pushing. Through submission. Through placing out the rope. Undressing. Making it work.