the life and musings of a kinky slut

Perfectly Bound

Last Thursday afforded me a modicum of unexpected fun. My gig was cancelled literally minutes before we were to start setting up gear.

With a free evening I had two choices: Happy Hour or rigging time.

With Shibaricon so close (holy shit!), I opted to spend some time under my point at home.

Dressed in my current practice uniform, tight black cotton stretch capris and a black tank top, I warmed up, opened my box of hemp, and began.

Since I randomly had this evening free, I wanted to try something random. Taking a fifteen foot piece, I tied a two column tie around my calves, just below my knees.

Hilarity ensued when I realized two snafus. 1- I was sitting on the ground, and 2- I had forgotten to rig my Shibari ring first.

Rolling up onto my knees, I slowly back pedaled to reach my ring. Gingerly standing up, I hobbled to my point and rigged it. I then wound both a simple hip and simple chest harness around my body.

Bending down, I larks-headed all my lifting lines to myself before any went through my ring. After securing both my chest and hip points, I sat back and worked on lifting my legs.

Less than a minute into my suspension, I realized a major flaw. The hip harness I chose was not appropriate. It failed to stay in place and did not give me adequate support for the maneuver I wanted to do.

Lowering myself, I decided to keep the calves and chest pieces in tact, but I needed to rework my hips. I opted for a gunslinger harness, which again gave me giggles. Because I kept my calves cinched together, I had to shove my ropes through my thighs multiple times. This practice session seemed to be full of funny moments.

Hip harness bound, I again lifted myself into the air. With better support and coverage, I sunk into the feel of my ropes.

And then came the tricky part. I wanted to go inverted. I wanted to see if I could support myself with just my hips and calves.

What I did not anticipate was my chest line being too short, my calves not being used to the asked for endurance, and my lack of eagerness to see my maneuver through to the end.

Instead of floating upside down, I opted to just come down.

With ropes still wrapped around me, I unhooked my carabiners from my ring and sat on the floor. I undid the lifting lines and flung the hemp, ropekake and all.

But I wasn’t finished.

I loved the feel of my tight chest and hip harnesses, as well as the rope around my calves. I loved the hemp around my calves so much that I did not remove the binding’s lifting line. Instead I wound the rope around my ankles, wondering if I could hogtie myself.

Standing on my knees, I pulled the line, separated the two ends of the strand, and weaved the pieces over my shoulders and through my hip harness. Bringing the rope back up, I ran the strands across the back of my neck and allowed myself to settle on my stomach.

And then I tied the rope around the front of my neck.

Just a simple over hand tie, not a secure knot at all.

I loved the feel of the rope across and around my neck. Loved the pressure of the ropes all over my body. Loved leaning into my neck rope, feeling the hemp bite against my skin.

I laid there on the floor of my basement, our dungeon, perfectly pleased, happy in my bindings, at first wanting no more. I allowed myself to stay in this position for a time, but then I wanted more.

Hooking my index finger, with one simple pull I released my neck rope. Letting my legs down some, I then wound the rope through my hip harness again, this time from the side, cinching my ankles again and tying off to my chest.

I then reached and found two fifteen foot coils. Making a cuff on my left wrist with my right hand, I wound the rope around the back of my neck, through my hip harness, and then back up, tying to the cuff.

With my teeth, and occasionally with my left hand behind my head, I tied a cuff on my right wrist, again wound the rope through my hip harness, and again tied it off at my wrist.

Lying on the floor, I tested the limits of my bindings. My left arm was basically in a sloppy chicken wing. My right only had half it’s extension. My knees had maybe a few inches of play. I was wrapped up in my ropes.

I again sunk into the feeling of my ties, resting, perfectly bound by my hemp, messy and ill-formed and all.

This was one of the moments when I remembered why I love rope, why I want to learn more, why I always want more.

Eventually I slipped my wrist cuffs off and untied myself. Eventually I repacked my hemp and made my way upstairs, where dinner and Iron Man 2 awaited. Eventually.

But for a few precious, potent, powerful minutes, I laid on the floor of my basement, alone, self-tied, perfectly bound in my hemp.

Categorised as: Random | Rope

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