Dec 222017
 

https://pixabay.com/en/winter-snow-white-landscape-tree-3009041/

Gorgeous, but freezing. That was the landscape and that was them. Perhaps they were crazy for agreeing to be naked in the snow, and the fact that they both hated the cold, made them tense up when they needed to be fluid and flexible.

Still they trudged along, and gazed at the winter wonderland of the glistening pristine white scenery, even as the snow covered ground made hiking treacherous with hidden rocks and roots below the fluffy, powdery whiteness. It would be a beautiful contrast to the naked skin at least.

They stopped where the air felt thin at the high altitude; they could see their breaths puff in a heated mist in front of their faces.  There was a gnarled tree that seemed to defy the odds, growing atop a large boulder that the wind would not let the snow rest on. The snow was stark white everywhere else with the tree line thinned at the crest and the backdrop view of the mountains was breathtaking – or perhaps that was the chill that seemed to rob them of their breath.

He gave gruff orders as he dropped his pack and took out rope, made even more muffled through his scarf protecting his face. They would have no such protection, hestiantly glanced into each others eyes to see if they dared before they bared their poor skin to the elements. Almost instinctively, they moved close to each other and held arms out to wrap around. He worked the knots around quickly, pressed their bodies even closer together. Soft breasts mashed and created a heated seal, yet still they were aware of each other’s hardened nipples.

“Cold or excited?” one whispered to the other, not wanting to penetrate noise too deeply into the otherwise silence. The rope zinged around itself and whipped her a few times in the momentum, she flinched but was grateful for the speed as that meant that they would be done and dressed sooner.

She realized this whole thing would feel like a race, though she was sure the pictures would come out more serene.

“Both,” was the whispered reply as the other bent down and the hot breath washed against the first’s neck; she laid a gentle kiss, careful to not leave any moisture on the skin as the cold would focus an attack there. The first woman tilted slightly in welcome and it was all the encouragement she needed to continue kissing a bit more intently.

The first woman shivered, though from the kiss or the cold she was unsure. The man continued his work around them, stretched the first woman’s wrists above her head on the branch, her skin was covered in goose bumps and prickled from the chill. The second woman, only being tied to her from the waist down, leaned back a little to cover a nipple in her hot mouth. The nipple felt like it was on fire in sharp contrast, pinpricks of fire melting down her belly and gathering in excitement between her legs.

He had to navigate around them in strange positions to balance between the boulder and the tree with rope being thrown, but did not try to prevent their play. Before the second woman knew it, she was spread out slightly below the first woman, their bodies still touching though her mouth was nowhere near the delectable breast she had just been warming, more towards a knee. Face to face, or knee to face as it more happened to be, the first woman dipped down as far as she could, her lips barely grazing the lower thigh in her bondage to the tree. Still, her lips grazed and she breathed teasingly on the cold skin.

They were not aware of the camera clicks, the whole purpose for this trip, they were too busy trying to explore a new terrain in testing bindings. The second woman craned her neck as far as it would go, though was unable to duplicate the heated mouth on her partner’s thigh.

Like a marionettist, he pulled ropes and limbs and created a story based on the inclinations of the marionettes, careful to move them in the cold, keeping parts that were dangling without heat pressed next to each other in the next shot, worked swiftly but concisely.

He quickly tied rope around the second woman’s waist and between her legs, spreading her lips within reach of the first woman’s, curious if it would be welcomed; he moved quickly to take a picture in case he had to move them.

The second woman was was surprised that as it slid between her folds she felt turned on, despite it hurting slightly in his haste and roughness. She felt incredibly vulnerable; the ice moved in further, and it stung, though suddenly lips and breath chased away the chill and replaced it with warmth at her entrance. Suddenly, her body’s focus gravitated towards that warmth and heat seemingly seeped through her torso.

Eventually, despite the heat and flirtatious tension between the women, the icy chill worked against the rope and their bodies, the ice seeped between them despite the intimately close angles.

“When we are done, I’m sure we’ll feel the snowy air, but we will make it melt with our bodies,” the second woman promised as she was first to be put down on the ground and go towards the clothes warmed by the heated packets in her bag. She disliked that they would have to wait to finish the promise until they got into a warm house, but she was looking forward to the contrasting heat they were bound to create. Hurriedly, she bundled enough to wrap her soon-to-be lover in heated clothing as she too came down from the ropes.

*Read the prompt and it reminded me of this story, rewritten differently around the concept of being tied in the snow for a photo

Apr 062017
 

*Taken from notes I wrote on a phone, I am leaving this unedited. I believe this was when my ex husband and I were practicing rope with some of our closest friends, and he wanted to see if he could rig a predicament bondage with a suspension and Doxy wand, where I could put down my foot to take away some pain of the suspension but it would cost me. 

**I wrote this August 2015, half a year before we divorced. 

You’re really sexy babe he said as he tied my legs to the pole, knees bent on the floor, thighs parted.

It was a reassurance in the midst of my shyness, of my uncertainly in a room full of people watching, spread in such a manner in just my underwear, a thin sliver of pretended modesty. He whispered it before he bent me over, exposing me more, so vulnerable feeling except his words of praise, of proudness, of appreciation of the trust I placed in him, bent me over until my face hovered inches above the ground, the chest harness of rope wrapped tightly around my beating heart stopping my face from hiding, showing my body bent, never a flattering angle for a stomach and mine especially felt awkward hanging curled in such an angle. Yet his eyes never left my mother’s hips, my muscular thighs, my rear end invitingly titling up with such ease of access, the small of my back.

He saw beautiful and I felt the warm glow of approval.

Dec 042016
 

I saw one of my friends when I went to the swingers club. He was performing with rope and whips. Once his performance was done, he hugged me and it was a long and comforting hug that let me know he heard about my sister.

We talked about how we were going to see each other at a party the next day. “Will you tie me? I need the release.”

He looked down at me still within his arms, his understanding eyes apparent even through all his makeup. “I know you do. Perhaps. You aren’t allowed to drink tomorrow then,” nodding towards the wine I had been drinking.

“I know, I won’t.” Tomorrow’s event was a dry party, had always been at the venue we were going to. Almost all the events don’t allow alcohol around these parts, as people feel strongly that alcohol and many play styles shouldn’t mix. I had no plans to drink alcohol even before the event as I was driving.

So after one night with so many wonderful friends, the following night (after dealing with family things, then sorting and cleaning my sister’s things) I went to another group of wonderful friends. Have I mentioned that I am so grateful for such an amazing group of people? I needed this support system that I am not getting in my new town. I know so many people that there is never a lack of company do I decide to reach out and ask.

This venue is far more family feeling. They’re very close knit, and the Thanksgiving dinner that they do every year is so large, with so much food carefully coordinated by the dungeon mom – yes even holidays are celebrated family style (minus kids, so a weekend before the actual holiday followed by adults playing). After announcements and a costume judging (they allowed me to come out of costume), my friend asked if I was ready to do rope.

So we went to the suspension structure and I stripped down to my underwear as he prepared the music. “What kind of a thing do you want?”

“Hurty rope,” I told him. He doesn’t scene with me for some reason, and he rarely even ties me, but he’s skilled and a sadist and I was hoping to escape in pain so much that I would cry, that I would release the overwhelming tension and surrender it all from my body.

He is skilled, and the rope did hurt, but after transitions and truly painful suspension ties, I was out of the rope before I felt the pain enough to embrace it.

I was still grateful for his time.

Down, we mingled amongst others and I watched a few scenes. A rope person and I were discussing how rope never lasts long enough and my friend said, “oh really?” with that devilish gleam that he gets and soon he offered to tie again.

I just took off my jeans this time and it appeared that we were going to do floor work. The music was excellent and he was bobbing in time. I had a chest harness with wrists tied behind my back. He put a knee behind my knee and force-lowered me to the floor. He strung up an ankle to the hard point above me and pressed the sole of his shoe on my thigh still laying on the floor. I liked the pressure, I liked the exposed-vulnerable feeling of having one leg up useless for protection. He then picked me up from the chest harness and my breath strained with the sudden pressure, immediately I adjusted and it hurt but felt wonderful. He set me down and picked me up a few more times.

Did I mention the music was awesome? It’s amazing how music can create a scene, and in this case I feel it did. Next thing I knew I was being strung up and fully suspended with legs adjusted from time to time to a more painful position than the last. I was blindfolded and it was then used to pull my head back, in which he arched my back to tie the blindfold into an ankle. That was a tight tie, it didn’t allow any forgiveness or releasing of tension. It was very uncomfortable but sustainable, and I wished that I had been in it longer. He spun me around in that position, his hand brushing over my blindfold, my upturned chin, my tensely pulled back neck, my chest. He checked on me and I expressed I was okay.

And then I came out. The whole experience had amazing energy and I felt a connection to him whereas he normally won’t tie to where I can feel a connection. But it was too short, or perhaps I needed too much, to find the space in which I released my emotions and surrendered them up.

Still, he managed a huge feat as I left that night incredibly happy. I am so very grateful to have such supportive, gracious, and even skilled friends. I will miss them when I return back to my town, and since my sister is no longer around, I don’t know if I will return to see them.

That in itself is a different kind of goodbye that I just can’t contemplate right now.