the life and musings of a kinky slut


I started as normal, tying a harness around my chest. People looked on, friendly heckling as they liked. Music was playing, so I danced a bit as I continued to tie. I moved on to my hip harness, winding my rope thrice around my middle. I attached to the bands on my hip, and wove around my thighs. All of my usual ropes were complete.

As I tied, I had to keep telling myself to relax. Thornton Pretend like they’re not watching. Pretend you are just at home in the basement dicking around. Breathe.
buy modafinil uk 2018
But then came the hard part. I looped my lifting lines through my usual three points: one at the center of my chest and one on each of my legs. First, I attached the chest, using a different rope than normal, a longer rope. No, be brave. I took off my chest line and instead grabbed my usual short piece. I tied off to my ring and continued.

I started to lift my right leg. Wait, which one am I stronger on? I switched to my left. My left leg and chest in the air, I sat back and lifted my right leg. I was now in my basket, ready to take the fall.

A friend came over and spotted me, just in case. I was about to attempt the hardest part.

I untied my chest point and slowly let myself down. I was inverted. It felt amazing, as usual.

Okay, just do it.

Collapsing in my core, I lifted my body up, and re-strung my chest line through my ring. I tied off, without help. I did it.

I was more than elevated, more than pleased. In my previous attempts at this maneuver, each time I failed. The first time I needed assistance to physically help me down. The second time I was able to reach the floor with my tippy toes and unlock my thighs ropes. Never before had I lifted my body, held my own weight, and tied off my chest point without assistance.

I knew why this time was different as soon as my feet were on the floor again. I wasn’t breathing heavy. I wasn’t exhausted. I wasn’t panting. I was sweaty, but not as much as usual. It was obvious; the treadmill time was working.

I haven’t been exercising consistently for that long, but in the short amount I have gotten in, I’ve already seen the results in both large and small ways.

Going up multiple flights of stairs.

Quick walks when I’m in a rush for work.

Work, in general, with the lifting and pushing of heavy objects and climbing into trucks to maneuver awkward gear.

Holding up a friend while we demonstrated an awesome fucking scene.

The teeny tiny ever-so-miniscule amount of extra space in both my work pants and, sadly, my bra.

I’m not focused on the end result of this experiment; I have no specific result in mind. But the journey…

The journey’s working out just fine.

Categorised as: Big Girl

Comments are disabled on this post

Comments are closed.