The rope studio was filled with carpets and ambiant lighting. It had gauzy fabric over the ceilings. Soft lilting music flowed around, creating a further relaxing mood.
I could tell Mr. Texas wasn’t expecting anything so posh. He told me on the drive up there that he expected dark spaces, people in black latex or leather.
Nope, most of the people wore jeans or summer attire. I was in a flowery dress myself. I told Mr. Texas to wear comfortable clothing to move around in, he dressed up a bit; said if I was in a dress he wanted to be appropriately dressed.
I told him I wore a dress because it was easy to take off.
I saw a few people that I recognized from the first rope event I attended in my new state. I struck up a conversation with a pretty female who had been tied for two years, and was learning to tie herself.
“Do you know how to do…?” and I named several ties.
“Would you be willing to teach him how to tie them?” I asked her, gesturing to the silently shy Mr. Texas.
“Absolutely. Let’s tie.” We were one of the first to begin tying, but others quickly joined in. She stripped down to a bra and underwear, I put on yoga shorts and just pulled up my dress while she taught him some leg ties. Eventually I was just in the yoga shorts, when we moved to tie a few chest harnesses.
She was very gracious and patient with her time and her beautiful purple rope – she said we were rope soulmates in my own taste of rope and how I liked to be tied.
Mr. Texas was a quick learner; I also discovered he liked the rope to look a certain way and I tried not to discourage the aesthetic nature he appreciated – though I myself know that tends to mean that I am forgotten about as a rope bottom to how the rope looks.
“And you can have fun with it, and be more sensual with it,” she was explaining at one point while doing a chest harness, slowly gliding the rope across my chest, up between my neck and shoulders. I shut my eyes – in part because I don’t look at the rope when it’s that close to my face so I don’t get hit, and also because it felt good.
I felt the rope slide across my skin, always welcoming that sensation. When he tied the chest harness, he also took his time and let it drift and glide across my skin. For someone who hadn’t done rope on another body before (though he said he had tied plenty of things and that’s why he believed he would pick up rope quickly) he had amazing connection with rope in his hands.
After we practiced those two ties a few times until it felt more natural to him, we watched a few rope scenes. He wasn’t sure of either of them, just as he wasn’t sure if he felt comfortable with the nudity that was prevalent in the room, but as we drove back he expressed that he did enjoy himself, that he found himself very tuned into me while he was tying and the rest of the room disappeared, and he was looking forward to going to another event.
Right before we got back to his place, I asked him about spanking. “Why? Is that something you like?”
“Maybe. In the right mood, perhaps at the height of an orgasm,” I suggested. That night, after many orgasms, he patted, then swatted at my cheeks, landing a hard smack that showed the imprint of every finger at the crest of an orgasm with his fingers. I moaned into it rather than away from him, even as he apologized for how hard he got me. “Don’t,” I reassured, “I really liked it.”
With his mouth nuzzled against my neck and his cock entering my body, he murmured, “I could tell.”
Not only was I impressed with the rope he tied immediately and the ease with which he learned, I was impressed with how he spanked my backside. (To see the picture I posted on Twitter, click here.)
He might be the sweetest vanilla, but he’s beginning to take to some flavoring beautifully.