Archive for rope


Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on September 6, 2009 by scarlettbottom

A couple days ago I had a demo-sub practice play session with a friend of mine, Luke. He’s a rope top and also a photographer. We’re planning to do a shoot next Sunday, a suspension rope bondage shoot.

I mentioned before that I love marks. I even like them when the person giving them to me is not a lover. I have a little rope burn under my right arm for my horizontal suspension, two beautiful little dotted red lines. It’s like a temporary body mod. They’ll probably have to be edited out of the photos, they’re very distinct.

I also love suspension, especially upside down suspension. Like a lot of bdsm, it’s not sexy so much as fun and exciting. Much of the appeal of bdsm is that it’s comforting in a deeply psychological way. Rope is not comforting so much as good fun.

Luke taught me how to untie myself, as well, even in suspension. It does meant that I have to be very conscious of what he’s doing and pay close attention to the knots and the order he does them in. We may be collaborating in a street festival coming up soon, and so we’re going to practice a few more tie-and-escapes scenes before then, probably.



Posted in Fiction, Nonfiction with tags , , , , , on August 13, 2009 by scarlettbottom

Yesterday I had my first pro-sub gig.

Mostly it was very heavy bondage, no pain other than the soreness of very tight bondage over a long period of time. I spent three hours in various rope ties, as well as leather restraints. I had a great time. The following is a fictional story.

I’m gagged and blindfolded when I wake. I can feel rope around my wrists behind me and something is pulling my hair so my head is tipped way back. It’s very quiet. I don’t think anyone is in the room.

Feeling the length of the rope and the ties around my wrists, I find the end and slowly work out the first knot. With my eyes covered my sense of hearing is extremely heightened, but still there is no sound, not even breathing. The rope loosens around my wrists. It hurts to move my arm, but I remove the blindfold and gag. My fingers are tingling as the blood rushes back into them. I don’t know how long I’d been tied.

I take a deep breath and experimentally shift my legs. When you’ve been in one position for a long time it can be very difficult to move. I thought the was the problem, but it seems that my ankles are tied to my hair. My joints are a little creaky, but I manage to get the rope untangled from my hair and realize that my ankles are in cuffs, locked together.

The room is a typical motel room. I’m laying on a double bed. There’s a dresser and a tv and, I assume, a closet and a bathroom around the corner. It’s very dim. There is a bedside table lamp on behind me, but the rest of the room is dark. There’s something on the dresser across the room. Rolling over to my stomach, I stretch out my legs and point my toes for the journey. I skooch down to the end of the bed, and off, onto my knees on the floor. My ankles are pretty close together, so actual crawling is not really possible, but I slither over to the dresser on my belly, crawling on my elbows.

My jaw is so sore from the gag.

Pulling myself up using the edge of the dresser I manage a kneeling position and retrieve the tool- it’s a wire cutter. It’s not the ideal tool for the job, but I’ll make it work. The locks are a little too heavy duty for this tool, but if I just have time I’ll get through them. My hands are so tired and weak. After cutting just the center lock to separate my ankles, I give up. I’ll have to wear the shackles until my hands get back to normal, or I find a better tool.

I stand unsteadily, swaying slightly and return to the bed to rest. My joints are beginning to feel better so I stretch my muscles, my hands, my legs, my feet, my back. After a bit I’m feeling safe and much more comfortable so I find my clothes in the closet and get dressed. Glancing around the room, my attention is drawn to the lamp on the table. There, under the small circle of light is a stack of bills. I tuck that in my bra and leave the room.

S is standing outside. I collapse into his arms and he sets me down on the floor. “I need to go get the camera, babe. Go wait in the car. Here’s the keys.”

No pressure

Posted in Nonfiction with tags , , , , , on August 4, 2009 by scarlettbottom

I had a few firsts the other night. I spent a night tied to a bed, knees tied together with yellow rope (“for my own protection”), wrists tied to the headboard. I slept in rope and restraints for the first time. This was also first real experience with rope (I already knew I loved it, Styrn and I experimented very briefly). I also had my first paddling, albeit very lightly. (Delicious.)

He woke up periodically to check my extremities and see that I was comfortable. That’s consideration. We went through three or four changes of restraint, different ties, different cuffs, different levels of freedom of movement. He also made some discoveries by accident, most notably my love of breath control and my addiction to corseting. The best part of having a new lover is the discoveries you make about each other, usually inadvertently, just running hands over skin and listening to breathing. The confirmation of eye contact.

He tied two ropes around my waist and ribcage (about four wraps each, doubled), which felt divine. I wondered aloud about creating a corset for waist training out of something flexible like rope- the point is the pressure on the ribcage and organs, not the posture. If I had a corset that was comfortable to sit in, I would definitely wear it all the time.

I also loved the blindfold. I don’t normally like to have things on my face, so I struggled with that for a bit, but finally I was able to relax enough to enjoy my other senses being heightened, as well as fall asleep in it.

He’s rough enough with my nipples. It’s not necessarily about the amount of pressure, but how long the sensation goes on. Like a light spanking that goes on and on.

Tomorrow night I’m going to have a few more firsts. I’m going to be tied up by a rigger at a bondage club. I’m excited about it. Because it’s my first time working with this guy, we’re not doing suspension (in the name of safety). Regardless, this should be thrilling. It’s also going to be my first time playing in public, which might be overwhelming. Plus it’s going to be in front of one of the Doms I most admire, so I have to be on my absolute best behavior to make a good impression. No pressure.


Posted in Fiction with tags , , , on June 27, 2009 by scarlettbottom

Shibari is sexy. Very sexy.

I’ve seen it a couple times, like a performance, but never had it done to me. I think the biggest obstacle is how long it takes to learn the skills and then how long it takes to actually tie someone up. Regardless, I’m having fantasies.

My fantasy is this: My boyfriend and I are going to have a lesson. A lesson in Shibari, with a guy we met at a party, who happens to be an expert. I of course am not going to learn much, but Styrn is going to learn a lot, about the rope, the knots, and me. Of course I’d have to do the convincing, talking him into it, providing the enthusiasm, setting up the private appointment, but it’s all worth it because now I’m standing naked in front of not just Styrn, but this man who is practically a stranger. An oh-so-experienced stranger. Who is about to tie me up in knots that I would never be able to get out of.

In my fantasy, I stand in a spotlight in a darkened room. There’s some exhibitionism for you. Styrn and our teacher stand behind me, holding my arms together behind my back, slipping lengths of rope around my wrists and elbows. Their concentration is on the rope, the knots. Except that I am getting more and more excited, listening to them talk clinically about the very heavy bondage I am about to be subjected to.

When the rope wraps around my upper arms I jerk involuntarily, and the attention is suddenly transferred to me. To my bare skin. To the flesh bulging slightly between the very tight ropes. To my breath, suddenly very loud in the nearly empty room.

Styrn comes around to look into my face. I can barely focus on him. Taking my chin in his hand, he commands me to stand still, or else we’ll have to go home right away because disobedient girls don’t get treats like rope bondage classes. I can see from his expression that he is turned on because I am. As he walks around me to continue the lesson, he passes one hand over my waist and drops to my pussy. He finds me soaking.