From my latest column on SexIs Magazine:
My first dominant was really into a style of bondage commonly referred to as kinbaku, or shibari in the USA. It’s a lot of rope, usually jute or hemp, and sometimes it is used as a way to suspend folks off of the ground, in defiance of several laws. Most notably, gravity. I wasn’t having any of it. As a fat chick, I was not at all interested in looking like a tied roast about to braise in a 450 degree oven, ya feel me?
But one of the things I love most about being submissive is that I’ve agreed to obey. So, I found myself trussed, twisted and tied, and somewhat taken-aback when I found myself slowing down, my senses heightened, my state of mind smoothed out, yet amped up, as the ropes went on me for the first time. My dominant wasn’t much of a talker while he was in the midst of administering rope bondage, but I soon realized that the very act of him laying yard after yard of earthy hemp rope across my skin was its own form of communication. The rope was an extension of his touch, and remained in place even after his hands had passed on to the next wrap, looping the next tie around this wrist and that ankle, over, under and around my breasts. Then I was in this kind of between place, adrift, yet alert; present in my body in a way I’d never been before, and yet somehow diffused throughout the network of rope.
Read the whole juicy thing here!