When he asked me to tie him, I was a little taken aback.
“I’ve seen your work and was wondering if you would suspend me?”
Seen my work? People have seen me tie? It all felt other worldly.
Still I was elated at the idea of playing with someone. Going into Summer Camp, I had made no plans whatsoever. No demands. No unrealistic expectations. Just camp.
We decided I would rig him in the Barn on Thursday in the early afternoon, just after lunch.
When the day came, I was feeling great. Going along with the no planning part of my Summer Camp, I had decided to also treat it as a real vacation. I would sleep when I wanted or needed. I wouldn’t push myself, wouldn’t force myself to stay up until all hours. I could spend as much time with my friends as my new leisure-self desired. I would enjoy my time at camp instead of trying to cram into every single minute excitement and fun and play. (Frankly, it’s been getting exhausting.)
As I sat in a camp chair outside my cabin, I wore my thin black kimono with my pink and white obi around my waist. I laughed and chatted with my cabinmates. I smiled a lot, happy to just be there, happy to just have time with my friends.
As the day meandered to the time for the tie, I grew gleeful. I grabbed my rope bags and strolled to the Barn.
Having arrived, I saw there was no one inside the space. Taking advantage, I setup my ring, clipped on my carabeners, and set out my rope. I slipped off my obi and kimono, happy for the attire but knowing the fabric would get in my way.
Taking advantage of my knowledge of the sound system, I plugged in my iPhone and turned on my Dungeon mix. The scene was set.
Soon he arrived, happy and smiling. We began.
I took him through some stretches before inviting him onto the mat.
As is my usual routine, I started with bands across the chest, a stem at the middle for my first point. Moving down, I tied a Swiss seat around his hips, encouraging him to adjust my rope up or down as would best fit him. Moving still further down, I secured a cuff around his thigh.
Not fully understanding my methods, he attempted to lean into my tie already. I asked him to take his body weight back up. It was almost, but not quite, time for him to fly.
Tying an ankle cuff, I stood and prepared him. I assured him, once I tied off his second leg, I would adjust for his comfort. He leaned into his ropes once again as I brought his ankle up, securing it above the rest of the points.
Quickly tying off, I asked where the most pressure was; where did he feel uncomfortable? First I needed to lift his hips. Wrapping the lifting line around my hand, and slipping my free arm under his body, I used my own body weight to lift him up. Next I adjusted his chest, again using my body weight to pull. His legs lines were fine.
As he settled into the now adjusted ropes, my webbing drifted some, giving him a small sway. I stood beside him and held his rope so he would not move. After a few minutes, he turned to me.
“Could you step away for a bit?”
I sat on a nearby bench and waited. He lazed in my ropes, the sway in them gone, seemingly in a quiet meditation. I pulled out my fighting fan and created a small breeze for myself as I patiently sat and watched.
When another camp attendee entered the Barn, I brought my finger to my lips to quiet them. I didn’t want the moment ruined.
After some time, he called me back over, saying he was ready to come down. I freed his legs, brought him back to standing, released his hips and chest, and sat him down on the mat.
As I untied the rope around him, I was pleased and he seemed quite content. I got him up; I got him down, safely.
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