*Written in December, allowed to post unedited. One of the last times that I was with him in a loving fashion.
Holiday season…family is always around.
We began in a room next to the kitchen, which fortunately had a door. It unfortunately did not block out any noise.
Grandmother is in the kitchen, preparing a meal from the sound of it.
He tried to touch me, and I kicked out at him with a whispered protest that I would not with someone in the next room. So then he grabbed rope, big fluffy rope that had nothing to do with bite and tightness, and everything to do with comfort and speed. My wrists were strung together and pulled up and behind my head, the rope criss-corssing at my back and going around my thighs, pulling them apart. I was a marionette that the strands commanded to spread and expose myself to him. His fingers caressed the crease, his mouth discovered a nipple, and before he engorged himself on both, he whispered, “shh.”
I tried to be quiet, tried to just breathe through the sensations, heard plates clinking in the room next door, felt a desperation to be so quiet.
It was made a bit more challenging when his face nestled between my thighs, his lips covering my sex, his tongue lapping up the taste of my desire despite my mortification that someone would hear.
By the time he stood up beside the bed, I was so wet and ready. He navigated the soft rope a few more times around me in different positions, soft kisses and caresses, created more a feeling that I was in his loving control that made my mind meek and centered on what was happening with just the two of us.
He used the rope as a gag and told me that no one wanted to hear me, that there was nothing that I could say that was going to stop him from doing what he wanted.
He wrapped and pulled it gently about my neck, whispered that I was his, always his, his love and life and breath.
“Kneel here,” he ordered, pointed to a large covered footstool when the rope was removed. I did. “Put your hands down, straighten your back, ass up. Let me see what’s mine.” My brain didn’t wrap around the orders fast enough, as each time one was given and he saw hesitation or confusion, his hands would guide me to hands and knees on the stool. He brushed my hair back from my face with his fingers so that I couldn’t hide behind even my hair.
I felt a little exposed and a bit humiliated to be on display on the footstool as he walked to the other side of the room for some rope. He kept reminding me of how he was seeing what was his. He commanded me to get to my elbows to further put my hips up, and then strung the thinner, more biting rope between my lips, parted them and really exposed my sex.
“Reach your hand between your legs and play with yourself,” he told me, and I did. “I can hear how wet you are, you like this,” he chuckled, and indeed my fingers were immediately coated with the evidence of how much I liked this. He watched me for a minute, and then his tongue began to rim my back hole, his fingers sunk into my vagina while my own circled my clit.
I moaned softly and whispered for him to fuck me.
He untied the rope and sat me on the edge of the bed. Rope was wrapped around my neck, the rough fibers more threatening despite the many wraps. He whispered reassuring that he would make sure it didn’t tighten, that it was just a reminder of his control. He pulled softly and the fibers gripped the front of my throat. My eyes shut as my breath held.
“Keep them shut,” he told me as his mouth kissed around the rope at the small expanse of neck at the top of the wraps. One hand kept the rope taut against my skin, though it didn’t press or hurt in any way, the other hand checked the rope around my neck for safety before exploring my breasts.
The rope held taut against my neck shut my brain down completely. There wasn’t a room or even a bed. There was only a mouth on my skin, nails raking my thighs, rope around my neck to center me. I didn’t hear anything.
When his finger sunk into my body, I orgasmed immediately. I can’t remember if I cried out during.
He pulled the rope more firmly to navigate me on my back to the bed. He finally entered me; I came around him. He positioned me on my side, a hand still pulled the rope noticeably against my throat – though not threatening, as he slowly moved in and out of me. He felt unbelievably hard, rubbed so many places that sparked pleasurable sensations to fly out to my body.
“Shh, you need to be quiet, I’m waiting for her to leave before I find mine,” he whispered against my ear.
Was I loud? Who was she?
…Wait, was grandma still in the kitchen? I ceased to hear anything, no moving about or her talking to her cat. Plates and pans didn’t penetrate my mind when he had quieted the world.
In and out, so slowly, rubbed and stroked so many delicious places in me.
And at an unknown (to me) moment, he began to move faster and more aggressively. He whispered that he was coming, but I was already there, held at the crest of pleasure as he pulsed and found his release.
Yesterday I posted about how I had tried (over the holidays in December) a fuck saw. Here is a picture from that encounter:
My husband had a few plans for some new experiences with us. They were:
Chair Bondage – we had never done this and it’s been on my bucket list for a long time. I was fortunate enough to have two men offer to tie me to chair on separate occasions when my husband decided it was time he made that a reality and forbade me to experience it with anyone other than him. Nothing like that motivation! It was fantastic fun, and I wore garter, stockings, and crotchless panties. It also helped us cross off a to-do photo of a window photograph for Sinful Sunday.
Beyond that, there were many touches and kisses and teasing involved in the whole tying process. He tied quite a few positions and would sit back and enjoy the view while I blushed wildly at being gazed at so frankly. A definite win and I’m thankful I experienced it with him.
Fuck Saw – this almost feels like a team effort, as Mimir was gracious enough to lend us the attachment to try this. It’s been on my husband’s list of curiosities for awhile now. He has an excellent trigger finger (beneficial for being military) and he actually had more control over the saw with his finger than the router speed control. He started it very slowly, checked in a few times, and then slowly increased the speeds.
I would have liked it to have a longer stroke length, and the speed didn’t bother me at all even when it got quite fast. It took awhile, even though I had orgasms prior to trying this, as nerves and the unsexy noise of the saw slowed the pleasure down, but eventually I did orgasm a few times. I don’t know if I would have accomplished an orgasm, however, if I had not had several beforehand. I’m not opposed to doing this again, but I won’t seek it out.
Chains – another team effort, as Mimir made this suggestion to my husband, as well as some details on how to carry it out. My husband bought some smaller chains and some larger chains, cleaned them well ahead of time, and we began with the smaller chains, where they were lubed up (after some regular orgasms first) and slowly inserted.
They were cold and weighed a lot. My husband thought that I could fit more, but I didn’t feel like I could. We had the added the complication of me being injured right at my entrance from a rope pinch – which ultimately stopped this experiment. When he pulled the chain out, he did it quickly and steadily. It felt strange but not unpleasant. I think I would like it slower, to feel each link slowly slide out. It wasn’t a huge success, but we both believe that my being sore really took a lot out of the experience.
Transitions in Suspension – it should surprised no one that we did a lot of rope. We went out to a lot of rope events and also practiced a transition series over and over again, working out any issues. We’ve been doing suspensions for so long now, and the trust and communication is easy and comfortable. I have no problem expressing what is and isn’t working and can offer solutions that work on my body (though I have no idea rope knots and such).
It’s a very painful suspension that we were practicing, but still great fun. It pushes my level of endurance and I can do little else than try to breathe through a portion of it. It makes me presently aware and appreciative of my body, I am not even aware of him at parts because that takes far too much away from just breathing. I would have pinched and rope burn marks of our learning attempts covering my body.
And of course, because we are not pain centered in our rope, after practicing the series we would rest and cuddle, then I would be back up in a suspension that had everything to do with fun and playfulness with him.
I had taken this photo when I did a chopstick series. To see the Sinful Sunday where the chopsticks were used, click here
To see what my friend did to his back, click here.
*This was written five months ago, during that time we’ve done far more and we’ve destroyed our relationship. I’m allowing this to post unedited. What prompted this was the #WickedWednesday prompt of a song on shuffle, for this prompt is the song “Hearts Without Chains” by Ellie Goulding, though honestly any song I hear reminds me of him right now in my heartbroken state.
Before I met my husband, I was fighting my sexual desires: my high sex drive, my kink fantasies, my openness. I had a lot of negative opinions of myself, and I was trying to tamper down most of my natural inclinations. Here’s some things that I’ve accepted:
1. Squirting In thinking about it, I don’t believe that he was first person that I’ve done this with; however, he is the first person that can make me do this with ease. (Unfortunately, I also have an issue with this, due to his reaction the first time we realized I did this.)
2. Multiple partners I’ve definitely been promiscuous, and I’ve been in poly amorous relationships before, but I’ve never had sex with my partner in the same room – whether it’s threesome or swapping partners, until him.
3. Anal stimulation I was the woman who criticized anal play with women, stating I had no idea why they would like that (men made sense as I knew about the prostrate at least with them). Now, I occasionally like a bit of stimulation, and I like the full sensation of a plug while having sex. Pegging is also new to me, something I didn’t see myself ever doing, but his enjoyment is pretty awesome to watch.
4. BDSM I don’t necessary see us as engaging in this, but others do, and I’m a bit surprised at it. Still, since meeting him, I have explored a lot of aspect of this.
- Impact play
- Power dynamic
- Intentional pain (I was used to bruises or rough sex, but never an intentional pain)
- Orgasm control
Evie Vane, who I had the pleasure of meeting in person at a Rope Bottom’s Round-table, writes Rope Bottoming’s Dark Side. She was asked what is the dark reason that she does rope, as there is almost always a dark reason. She ponders the question, sees her dark reason, and can’t stop seeing it. Her friend gives her brilliant advice of dancing with it again. She goes into how freeing she felt after that. It’s a great article, check it out.
She also mentions that this is something of a shadow. In Jungian psychology, the shadow’s denial or unawareness makes it darker. It may be the primitive animal instincts, but it tends to be more creative, representing “the true spirit of life as against the arid scholar” (Wikipedia).
I’ve never been asked this question, and feel like it needs a great deal of thought. Some things I feel like I’ve discussed, things I would view negatively in myself in any other situation other than BDSM, such as passivity, controlled, mindless, objectified, and exhibited (a lot of this I’ve discussed in just one post Watching Me).
I strongly dislike passive people, it is incredibly opposite to how I perceive myself (and how others also think that I am not passive) and I have little patience in accepting situations that are not by my design. Yet, there is some part of myself that just wants to accept what is happening to me without resistance or responsive action. Not only is this prominent in rope, it also plays a part in my kink of being unconscious during part of sexual touching (either woken up from sleep or coming to after a blood choke). Being so compliant and submissive is the path of least resistance that does not come easy to my personality, but one that is so peaceful; rope helps me find that peace. (I just recently became aware of my acceptance towards passiveness in my negotiations with Mimir.)
Controlled is something that I instantly feel the almost teenage instinct to rebel against, and yet in rope, I have simply no choice. I am bound, I can fight or struggle all I want – I am still being forcibly controlled. The power dynamic of this is incredibly erotic to me, and also can be pointed towards another kink of mine with consensual non consent (that I haven’t engaged in very far). Someone else is in control and I am powerless to do anything about it, even if I so desired.
Mindless is something that I first became aware of in sex and kink, as my brain is always going, and often in negative directions. I pride myself on my intelligence, my ability to multitask and juggling so much, yet I need a break. So to switch my brain into just focusing in on the moment is something that I view as a positive and why I first began exploring kink. In rope it needs to be a very challenging or painful rope, as the physical needs have to override the constant chaos that is my brain. I love having fun rope experiences, and my husband is fantastic at providing very comfortable rope rides, but I also love how we’re exploring (and I’m exploring with others) more painful (or orgasm play – that works too) rope.
Objectified is prevalent in most of the rope I do, mostly because I’ve been a practice bottom more than a person bottoming in a scene. When someone is learning, they don’t need me to react or connect to me – they just need constructive feedback (like a test dummy). During a class or practice, people only really talk to the rope top, I am pretty much ignored. It was something I became aware of on the edge of my consciousness when people would see me suspended and talk about me as if I wasn’t there. As much as this may sound negative (and it annoys me at times), I am so respected and cherished by my husband that it feels somewhat freeing to treated impersonally from time to time. It is a huge turn on to an object of pleasure where a man is only in it for himself and what he wants sometimes; it is sexy to be molded and positioned in rope to how they want me for their artistic vision.
Exhibited could be a darker source of pride perhaps? While I do not view myself as an exhibitionist, there is something rewarding about being admired or viewed. I like to hear compliments of how well I did, how lovely I looked, how I am skilled at being in positions in rope. I like being talked about in a positive way. I’ve discussed how I don’t get the duality of strength and vulnerability without being in public, but that is no longer the case: Mimir and my husband both have tied me now and put me on display for just their view (and it’s very uncomfortable and yet strangely erotic for me).
Are there darker reasons? I’ve discovered there are since writing this, and I’ll keep attempting to shed light on more of my shadows since there are so many new ones since being separated – it’s a bit scary to me and one I need to process through.
What about you, what are your shadows?
After scenes, Mimir has made some statements about me recently that are teaching me a bit more about myself. I’ll share his words, and a reflection about them.
“Rope is me responding to your impatience.”
It’s really no surprise that I’m impatient. I also am constantly moving and have a hard time sitting still. What’s more is that I feel like I need to be responding, or reacting, or participating. Rope really does work against (and wonderfully for) all these issues. I can’t push for more (though I will often groan in frustration at waiting).
Mimir is infinitely, maddeningly patient. He will often tie me and wait for some sort of unconscious signal that I have accepted I must wait. He will strike me a few times and then wait until I believe we done with that sensation. He will bring me to orgasm when he damn well feels like it, despite my begging or need. It’s one of his best qualities and one that I can’t stand the most as well, such a contrast of emotions to this trait.
“I know, I can sense, you want to play with that knife and I get you to the point that when I give you the ability, you finally are content to let it go.”
This was stated after a scene in which his knife grazed my fingers and almost palmed the handle of the knife. I thought how easy it would be to take it over, how simplistic to have my way with it, but the thought floated by drowsily, lazily, and I did nothing about it – so ridiculously unlike me.
“I keep experimenting with ties that will keep you still.”
I squirm, arch, fight against, move towards, and move away…I simply don’t stay still. I didn’t realize just how much until recently. I will also unconsciously hurt myself in doing so, caught up in the moment. Orgasms and harder impact tend to cause the most amount of movement from me. I can’t at all be easy to work with and I feel terrible about this – just not enough to consciously force myself to stop, apparently.
“You really like the take-down moves.”
Well hell yes I do! This is another one of those things that I knew about, just not been able to really experience all that often. I really love being physically forced and manipulated; it’s so hot to me. I love the unknown/unseen factor of this. Instinctively I resist at first. I am wet so much quicker with a few of these moves thrown in before I become putty in someone’s hands and my head space is quiet and submissive.
And some scene statements that make me hot:
“Don’t stop, keep going, this is still a scene and you are not in charge here.”
Said during a rare moment where I was a very active participant but so sensitively and physically exhausted by that time. I felt compelled to obey, though it’s my body that listens, my brain would have given up far before similar to a runner that needs to push past the mental wall saying it’s too much or too far. I like the utter confidence in this statement, the reminder of his control, to push me past what I feel my level of endurance is.
“Now that I know your responses, it makes it all the more fun to play with.”
It was stated when he just rested a finger between my lips, lightly, and I shifted just the tiniest amount; he looked at me, smiled with the knowledge of what that shift meant. I like someone knowing my responses better, but it makes it all the more easier to play me however they wish. Still, that doesn’t deter me from being honest in my responses, and it is rare that I hide them – I truly do want someone to know what makes me tick. I also really appreciate the feedback that playing with me and seeing my reactions are fun.
“Now that I know you can do squats, I have some predicament bondage scenes in mind.”
I can’t do squats, I protested.
“You can when you want something,” he countered.
I was a warm gooey puddle after this statement. What makes it so hot to me is that he promised a later scene full of mischief, acknowledged my motivations, and didn’t allow me give excuses. The tone allowed for no discourse and he didn’t even hesitate in his response – he wasn’t going to consider my opposition. Fucking hot.