poeticdesires

the life and musings of a kinky slut

Bondage Bullfight

“You are using the rope to deliver your message; your receiver is your bottom, not your knot.”

At the front of the class stood a whiteboard. The bottoms faced the back, unable to see what Dart, the presenter, wrote. The tops read the word and began.

My class partner started softly, slowly. Immediately there was intense eye contact. Easing in closer, they pressed their body against mine and wrapped their rope around me.

Bringing my arms up, they tied my limbs in front of me in an almost prayer position. They hugged me from behind. I felt safe, loved.
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Nuture.

For the second word, the mood in the Pavilion immediately turned cold. My partner took the rope, which they had previously unwound from my body, and used the fibers as a whip, stinging lashes across my skin.

“Do you like this?”
“Yes,” I squeaked through yelps and cries, finding some solace in the catharsis of the pain.

Quickly working, they cinched their rope around me tight, the fibers biting into my skin. They dragged the rope across my body, burning brutally.

They pulled my hair. They forced me down to the ground. Their boots pressed harshly into my body.

They tied one arm above my shoulders, the other below. And they tightened. And tightened. And tightened. I screamed. I cried. I dove into the pain.

Dart told everyone to stop. He wrote something else on the board. We bottoms didn’t see this as well.

And then everything changed.

My partner slowly began untying their bindings. They eased my arms from their ropes. Again they pulled the rope across my body, but this time sweetly, soothing my skin.

They joined me on the floor, laying their body against mine. They began caressing my hair. With a bunch of the rope in their hand, that massaged it against my face. With their body and the rope about me, I felt safe again.

When Dart brought the group back together, my partner and I never stopped touching each other. Some part of me was always touching them; we needed to remain connected.

As we began to talk about our scenes, what we noticed, how things affected us, Dart began with a rather surprising comment towards myself and my class partner:

“You two over here almost brought me to tears. That’s a lot coming from a gay man.”

People spoke about letting themselves fall into the words given, turning off parts of their brain to allow the scene to go where it needed.

I spoke about the change in how my partner drew the rope across my body, the same action but with opposite motivations. How something so basic can be performed in vastly different ways.

The second word Dart wrote: Ruin.

Dart’s final words: I’ll Protect Your Forever.

Class dismissed.


Categorised as: Boots | Friends | Fusion | Impact | Rope

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