Nov 032008
 

I have been invited to be a speaker at a kink event. This is really, really WIN, and seems to be happening more frequently, which is SUPER cool.

This one is in Colorado. It is called Denver Bound. It is a smaller event, and they have an interesting setup. They have a few people come and do a very intensive weekend, 4-5 classes each over the 3 day period.

Last year, it was 4 rope bondage rigger types.

Um….yeah.

You can see where I am going with this.

You see, I’m not a “rope bondage teacher.”

I checked, and yes, it is a rope-bondage intensive.  I asked the organizer if he was sure he was asking the right person? He said emphatically yes.

But what the fuck do I know about rope bondage?

Dammit Jim, I’m a submissive, not a rope rigger!

Most of the time, we’re props.

Yep. You'll need P-L-E-N-T-Y of rope.

I have certainly demoed in rope bondage classes. But not all that often, because the desire to see fat girls tied up isn’t high.

Unless the class is about tying up fat girls.

As I thought about what I might have to say about rope from my perspective… that being the bottom side.

I remembered that my first glimmer of a desire to, and a possible capacity for teaching in the Kink community was when I was bottoming during a rope demo. There I was, one leg tied behind me, semi-suspended in a rope harness, in a rumpled dishabille from all of the hemp rope.  I was grooving — blissed out and high on hemp in a way that doesn’t take any smoking and sure enough has nothing to do with THC.

Someone asked my Trainer, who was teaching, if it was OK to ask me a question. He said yes, it was OK.

So there I was with about the ball of one foot on the floor, arms behind my back, half lost in the haze and smoky head-trip of rope bondage, talking about what that was like.

It would sound impossible to be able to be coherent in one of the least conducive situations imaginable: tied up and turned on and mostly naked in front of a classroom full of attentive witnesses.

This is where a lifetime mad acting skillz is really an amazing tool, yo.

The “me” in bondage became the character I was dissecting. The “me” who remains present  was able to do a character breakdown, and “interview” the sub-spacey Mollena.

I talked about how much the process of losing control incrementally can be very arousing and also scary. About how I had, even in the year since I’d been in Service to this particular Dominant, developed quite an affinity for rope bondage and hemp rope in particular. To the point where even the smell of a well-conditioned hank of hemp heats me up…just a little. Just enough.

I talked a lot. Eventually I was gagged, to stem the tide of increasingly breathy babbling.

Shit happens.

So, yeah. What DO bottoms have to say about rope bondage?

As it turns out, quite a bit.

I immediately came up with one topic: “Beautiful Victim: Negotiating, Communicating and Illuminating your Submission.” It would be around self-expression for bottoms, and help for tops and dominants in eliciting those wonderful connections and reactions that so many crave.  OK, cool!

I thought also a class that taught about warm-up, processing and cool down, on a physical level, would be great.

I chatted a bit yesterday with a friend who brainstormed with me on another angle: that of a whole “From the Bottom:” series of classes.  A  discussion of  and exploration into why bottoms enjoy rope bondage, what happens emotionally when you are going into, coming out of, and processing afterwards, some of the reasons people love or avoid it, etc.

Come to think of it, this is really an awesome kind of challenge to which I gotta step up :-)

Never underestimate the power of a submissive.  NEVER.

Oct 172008
 

Though I rarely take things for granted, I do occasionally fail to step back and see the larger surreal picture. Seurat-a-tat-tat when I DO step back I inhale the myriad blots and splotches that resolve into a story told in moments.

Recovering from the abrupt rape of a badly decomposed molar was complicated by goddess-awful side-effects from the Amoxicillin and the Vicodin. I finally stopped taking everything. Fortunately my pain tolerance is fairly high.

My friend Patti was opening her first photo exhibit this evening at Stormy Leather and dadgummit, I did not want to miss that. The exhibit is all comprised of photographs of bondage, mostly of the rope bondage variety. Though I hadn’t planned well enough to have someone with whom I could piggyback around the gallery, I happened to run into a fellow kinkster as I was on the way to the event.

The proud porn purveyor!

She smiles! A rare photo indeed!

There was a rope bondage demo that was just wrapping up…well, unwrapping up as we walked into the store. The security gate was open to the warm evening, and I encountered my dear friends Mistress Heart and Cleo Dubois and chatted for a bit. They were both looking lovely, as is usual. I felt a bit frumped out, but there was no way I was corseting tonight. No. Way.

By the time I made it downstairs I was thrilled to see a good sized crowd, and Patti’s photos were first in the line-up, and that was pretty wonderful to see. There were no small number of corsets being worn by several women of all shapes and sizes and that is something I love to see.

The photography was lovely. I will add, though, not very diverse in terms of the subjects that the riggers choose to utilize. I should be accustomed to this, but I still always hope!

I suppose I will, soon enough, be able to do more than hope. Also in attendance at the reception, you see, was the supercalifragilisticexpialisexy Zille Defeu. And she, of all people, wants to photograph me, of all people.

This is very exciting for me. When you are of the fatter and browner persuasion, there aren’t a lot of representations of people who look like you being sexy and kinky. And I sincerely believe that it takes a photographer with admiration and respect for their subject to make a picture sparkle. And it takes a subject who trusts and respects their photographer to let their spirit shine in a picture. I think we will do well working together.

I spent quite a bit of the evening schmoozing, catching up and gossiping with Zille and her Husband/Master. He has been a friend for many years as well. The funny part of having over a decade in the kink community is that you are privileged to be in the eyes of friends for so many twists and turns, and likewise to have them observe and participate in the roller-coaster of your own life.

I found myself back upstairs later, a bit tired and overwhelmed by the heat in the basement, where the gallery is located. I couldn’t hold back on the snark as I watched the demo: when I was taught how to bottom well in rope, I was instructed to be responsive to the bondage, both as it was going on as well as when it was being removed, to honor the energy and the process. I am kind of a pickybitch about that shit.

Meditation comes in handy on MUNI.

On the way home, I counted the loot I’d won in the Goodie Bag raffle. I stopped in to a local diner for pancakes, and I passed a few minutes babbling like an asshole with the crazy adorable FiveStar and OMG so sexeh Jiz Lee. I am a dork when it comes to conversation. I demand tolerance and forgiveness for this crippling defect when it comes to friends I know fairly well, but I stumble around like Templeton the Rat on a bender when trying to be groovy and witty with teh coolkids.

I should just give up.

I am, after all, and after all is said and done, miss geeky girl.

Oct 152008
 

There are 47 reasons, on any given day, why kinky stuff gets my jeebies heebied.

One of the things I can enjoy, regardless of my emotional connection to my play partner, is rope bondage.

There are many aspects of kink that are intensely personal for me, things that get right into my head and places that remain locked away.

Not everyone gets to go there.

Hell, I don’t even go there most days.

Too dark and clammy.

But there are some types of play that I can enjoy purely on a physical level. So long as the top to whom I am bottoming is highly capable, and I am assured of their skill, I can “go there” and enjoy the ride.

Rope bondage is one of those play-styles

So…WTF?!?!

The loss of control over parts of your body is pretty intoxicating…the idea that your movement itself, the one thing since birth that you struggle to achieve and maintain, is now in the hands of someone else…that is something dangerous. Excitingly so.

It occurs to me that the secret wormhole I find when doing bondage is not just the loss of control: it is the deeper sense that every segment of rope is touched and energized by the person applying the bondage. That focused intent, that specificity, can elevate the inanimate rope to its own heightened state. It is as though every section of rope is imbued with, and carries the energy and control and caress of the one who is in control of it.

As the bondage becomes more binding or more complex, it is as though you are held in a physical manifestation of the thoughts of the person slowly taking from you the control of your limbs, skin, body…rope bondage can get to the point where even your breathing is restricted by the rope top. Imagine if every caress you felt while making love lasted and abraded and caressed and marked your skin in an after-shock of taut tension and sensation.

It is an echo that intensifies instead of fading.

It is a restriction that frees you to struggle and relinquish your control.

And if you add to that the many textures of rope, it is even more engaging. Slack silk ropes, slick serpentine nylon, earthy heady hemp, scritchy jute, stiff cotton. All of these have their own notes in the symphony of surrender. Simple, elusive, complex, difficult, joyous, terrifying, soft, brutal, beautiful.

Have something about kink that you’d like me to cover on a future WTF Wednesday? Contact me!