Tag Archives: Rope


3 Apr

“Restricted or confined to a specified place”

That’s how the on-line dictionary defines “bound.”  And if He slides a rope through the ring on that ankle bracelet, and runs it through the ring on the manacle on my wrist, and ties it so the rings are pulled together, i am indeed bound.  

And if He ties the other side of me like that too, wrist to ankle, i’m not only bound, i’m open.  Knees bent, legs spread ~


Affording unobstructed passage or view; Having no protecting or concealing cover

Spread out; unfolded

Available; obtainable.  Vulnerable

Accessible to all

Who knew the on-line dictionary could sound so hot?

He let me sleep in the cuffs ~ untied ~ and the collar, rope around my neck.  When i woke during the night, i could feel them, and feel Him.  And i sighed, content, and went back to sleep.

More on a Kinky Night

23 Mar

Hands tied together, arms pulled above my head and fastened to the ‘over-the-door’ device He rigs in my doorway…

… i am wearing a crotch rope

and my feet are tied together.

My nipples are clamped, the chain between them feels heavy.

i lean into the door.  “Ass out,” He says and i tilt, pushing out, feeling the crotch rope rub between my ass cheeks, between my pussy lips, already wet…

He moves away to get ~ to get whatever He’s getting i don’t know what, but “Don’t go anywhere,” He says, and i can feel Him smile.

It is the flogger.  He starts with the flogger.  

Warming me up, the flogger, then His hand.  i cannot move, and the crotch rope is there, putting pressure on my most sensitive spots, making me whimper,

with pleasure and pain

as He switches to the rope, the thin stingy rope that makes me gasp, and if i move, the chain between the nipple clamps swings a little, 

and then it is something else, i don’t know what it is, it hurts but not too much, and then ~

i feel the caress of the cane, He lays it across my ass, marking where it will land, and i hold my breath ~

as it swishes through the air, that clean, clear cutting sound, right before it bites into my skin…

and i inhale sharply.


There are more, some softer, some harder, i lose track, and then He switches to the canes, there are three of them bundled together ~~

and i have lost if that is more intense or less intense, it hurts, it hurts ~ ah, mmmmpf, yikes, the nipple clamps, the crotch rope are forgotten and then He says ~

~referring to a conversation i barely remember ~

He says, “I don’t have a paddle, but i do have this wooden spoon.”

And i feel it, the hard, round smoothness, as He caresses my ass, the back of my thighs, with it.

He puts one hand on my left nipple, which shifts my attention to the nipple clamps and i whimper cause i know it’s going to be bad, when it’s really bad, He touches my nipple at the same time, which turns me on and warns me and then ~

omg, omg, omg ~ the spoon lands, and the sensation ripples out and i gasp.  His hand on my nipple tightens, and the rush of pleasure and pain is almost overwhelming.  

Again ~ He does it again, i don’t know how many times, squeezing my nipple each time, and i can’t move at all, my hands press against the door, my feet tied together, i cannot escape the blows or the pressure of the rope between my swollen pussy lips, or the clamps tugging on my already sensitive, hard nipples…

And i realize, yes, i am happy.  Right now, this is exactly where i want to be.

Valentine’s Day

13 Feb

Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.

i am not a big fan of Valentine’s Day.  It’s a frigging Hallmark holiday, created {IMO} to sell cards and candy and flowers, with jacked up prices on flowers that are ridiculous.

And yet, it’s one of those holidays {like Mother’s Day} that if you ignore it, you feel bad.

When i was married we had little traditions we developed quickly so  we didn’t have to get too creative.   My first husband did flowers, which i do like a lot.  i did candy, which He loved, and we went out to dinner.  

My second husband always gave me some piece of jewelry with a heart in the design.  i’d give him a little series of small gifts of things he liked ~ candy, a book, tickets to a show, whatever.  

When i’m not in a relationship, i give my friends and family little candies or cards and try to content myself with that.  {Well, i do that some when i’m a relationship too, but it’s not the whole focus, right?}

If i’m in a new relationship, that’s the trickiest.  You don’t know what to expect, or what to give, or anything.  i kind of hate it.


So i got Sir a book ~ don’t tell HIm ~ it’s some previously unpublished stories by His favorite author, and i’m hoping He hasn’t already read it.  i’m hoping to come up with something else creative before tomorrow, but am not sure that’s going to happen.  i couldn’t find a card i liked so i’ll have to make one.  

My Sir is a Master of different and unique gifts.  They are often symbolic gifts rather than hands on material things, which i think will make life more interesting.

So for Valentine’s Day, He’s created a myth for me.  A legend.  And written a story about it.

The myth involves a karada, the japanese rope dress,

and a Dom on a quest ~ a little bit like Cinderella ~ but He seeks the one who fits the karada.  So He sends His man out to all the villages, looking for the submissive woman it fits… and all the women line up to try it on…

Sir’s giving me the story, which He’s already written, but the story is not the gift.  The legend that the story’s based on, the legend He created for me, is the gift.

How could i not love this man?

Still Ticking…

9 Feb

Yesterday was a difficult day.  Still a little sub-droppy, doing my on-call for jails and had to do two runs – separately – spending three and a half hours on the road running back forth.   After my regular work day.

And, as Sin has pointed out, on-call week makes me kind of angst-y anyhow.

And at work yesterday, it seemed like there was a little more sad-painful than usual.  Usually, i can absorb it and  be ok.  But yesterday, there were a couple of times i was on the verge of tears.

One of those times, i wasn’t the only staff person tearing up, so it wasn’t just me, it really was a heavy load of sad-painful.  But still.

Fortunately, i know that talking about it helps ~ just telling the story of whatever bothered me to someone else begins to dissipate the weight of it.

And ~ in honesty ~ i was thinking about mouse and Omega.  Not in any kind of negative way, just trying to stretch my own understanding, and reaching out to them ~ sending positive energy through the universe in their direction.

Even though i don’t know what direction that is.  laughing… but the universe knows where they are.

Thank goodness, Sir and i were still able to have dinner together, in between jail runs.

Being with Him supports me, lets me lean.  He doesn’t have to do anything particular. Just His presence, the way He listens, His smile ~ those things are enough to make me feel good.

The way He touches me.

So when i finally get home, and put myself to bed, i have this sense of connection to Him.  It’s like ~

~~ it’s like my heart is open, and there’s an invisible thread that runs from me all the way across town to Him.   

O, yeah.  i guess it’s not a frigging invisible thread.  It’s rope, isn’t it?

Laughing… it’s rope that connects us.  All the way across town.

Lots of Rope

22 Jan

Lots of rope in my life these days ~ particularly last night.  

Sir had been working all day, so i went to his house.  i knew He was tired, so i was delighted when he said we were going out to eat.  That was lovely, and when we got back to His house ~

 He whisks my coat away and sits me down in his old office chair.  It has arms and wheels.  {I was going to post a picture of what it was like, but apparently they don’t make them anymore.  And anyhow, it doesn’t matter.}  Suffice to say, i am quickly tied to it.

A rope around my chest holds me securely, wrists fastened to the arms leave no room for escape.  “Playing cowboys and Indians?” i comment and He just laughs.

After i’m tied, He unbuttons my shirt, pulls my breasts out so the nipples are exposed.  Attaches the nipple clamps, tightens them.   Asks if they’re even.  

“Yes, Sir!!” is my hearty response.  “Perfectly even, thank you for checking!!”

“Comfortable?” He asks.

“Mmmmhmmm.  Yes, Sir.”  While He wrapped me, i had been thinking about a blog post someone wrote ~ i can’t remember who now ~ about whether or not being tied up is like being hugged.  i smile, yes, it is like being hugged, a long caressing hug.

“Good,” He says, “Don’t go anywhere.  I’m gonna take a shower.”

And i laugh, cause i should have known that was coming.  

For a moment i think, “What if there’s a fire?” and then i laugh at myself, cause i’m on wheels, i could scoot straight down the hall to the open bathroom door ~ an open door through which clothes are flying at the moment, landing in a heap at the end of the hall.  

A shoe.  Another shoe.  Socks.  i’m giggling, watching this invisible strip tease.

And then i have time.  Time to savor the feeling of rope around me.  Time to wonder why He’s left me clothed, except for my breasts with the clamps attached, which are not too painful, but not quite forgettable either.

My quote i chose for the day yesterday was:

“Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!” 
~~ Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

Tied to the chair, unable to do anything, i have time to slide into that timeless space, the magical space betwixt and between parts of my life.  Carving out room to just be, and, even better, to just be His.

i wonder for a moment if He’s going to untie me to get my clothes off, but i let the thought flit through my mind.  No need for me to be concerned with that.  

i watch my nipples, the chain between the clamps hanging down.  i listen to the water from the shower.  i feel myself growing wet, moist and fully compliant.

i wait…