Posts tagged ‘rope’

September 15th, 2013

Back to School

It was Club Lash on Friday.  As usual, I was helping the RWN guys and was able to actually carry equipment in and out of the venue!  That’s a huge deal for me as I’ve not really had the strength in my hip to be able to do it until now.  It was also the Skool! theme night, something I would often ignore but felt like dressing a little bit silly.

Once we were set up, he ordered me to get changed, to make myself look like the cutest school girl I could.  I already had my hair in buns, a look that automatically makes me look a lot younger and more innocent.  On went my plaid skirt, my actual school tie, white knee high socks, shirt and crazy Mary Jane shoes.  I felt so very young, so very vulnerable and very much taken back to being a well behaved girl from when I was at school.  The outfit preparation took me from giggling, over caffeinated me to submissive, well behaved me.  I had thought that I just wanted to be used that night but, from then on, I wanted to be controlled, looked after, protected.

Most of the time, our D/s relationship isn’t high protocol and definitely isn’t a 24/7 thing.  I will often be bratty, take control myself or just be spending time very much as equals, with one of my closest friends.  There are the times, though, that I want to be controlled, that I want to adhere to rules and protocol, I want to do almost anything to make him proud of me.

He started with rope work.  Stripped down to just white knickers and a ball gag, in front of what turned into quite a large crowd.  A sign of things that have changed for me as I used to hate wearing gags and the idea of them in public…  Trying so hard to not just shy away from people’s gaze, trying so hard not to bow my head in embarrassment.  Finding it easier with time as the rope caressed my skin and took me to my happy rope headspace.  Taking a particularly hard beating and caning whilst in stressful rope.  Then being let down, allowed to kneel at his feet, ordered to tidy his rope in exchange for my clothes, him knowing it’s one of my favourite post rope play activities.

Back to reality and he took me for some fresh air, a stroll around the Village, making sure I was well aware of people looking at me.  Showing me off.

Back to Lash.  Chatting with friends, having a drink, asking permission to play with K.  A lovely flogging that put me into a daze.  Heavy, with soothing caresses.

Then back he came, to finish his beating.  Fists pummelling me, teeth biting into my flesh, my body sinking lower.  And then the spanking came.  The heavy, full force, slaps to my arse.  Over and over again.  Followed by my shoulders, my back and my arse again.  Heat rising from me, body craving, back arching for more.  Him pushing me, wanting to hear me cry out, wanting the tears to flow down my face.  And they came, but only when to led me off and sat me down, looked me in the eyes and told me how proud he was, how much he loves me, how beautiful I looked.  I feel so lucky and am reminded of how much I have when I hear words like that.  And I earned myself my spanking merit badge.

Our parting moment, on my knees, kissing his boots, his other foot on my neck, pinning me down, putting me in my place.  The place I want to be.

July 15th, 2013

Rope Play

I sit, hugging my knees to myself, waiting, anxious, eager.  You position yourself behind me, close, comforting.  Your hands trace down my arms, lightly, gently, sending shivers up my spine.  Fingertips stroke my neck, my collarbone, my cheek.  I melt, my body leaning back into you, my eyes close.  A rustle to the side of  you, I feel the rougher sensation of rope skimming across my skin.  A waft of jute fills my lungs and I melt all over again.  That smell gets me every time. 

My attention is back with you when you pull the hank out quickly and throw it across the floor, the whipping sound filling my ears.  You tease me with the rope, letting it slide across my skin, relaxing me, waiting for me to become entirely yours. 

The sudden arm around my throat, your other hand twisting my arm around my back.  Rope hooked over my thumb and used briskly to bind me, wraps to my arm, my chest, rough, quick.  Then a slowing down, painstaking positioning of the rope between my breasts.  A sharp tug, taking the breath from me.  Energy flowing in those ropes, an extension of you.  Your care, your tenderness, your twists, your sadism, all coming through the twisted fibres.  You control me, pushing and pulling, manipulating ropes around my limbs, gently running them between my legs, briefly pulling them at my neck. 

Securely held where you want me, unable to escape, not that I would even try.  A pause and I calm myself, my breathing regular.  Waiting, calm, collected, embracing the rope, feeling safe in its constraints.

The first slap is unexpected, a sting on my thigh.  I yelp, unprepared and you react with continued abuse from your hands; a pinch here , a punch there, a dig into a pressure point, a knuckle in between my ribs.  I squeal, gasp, wriggle, my rope reverie broken, my body reacting to the delightful sensation, heightened by my previous calm.  You push me, slaps to my body, the stinging feeling never quite resolving before the next blow.  Palms turning to fists, sting turning to thud, and soon, I am melting away again.  My whole body resonating, each punch pushing me to that floaty place.

Time disappears.  The ropes are untied, each one with the care that was used to place it initially.  Slow, meditative, blissful.  You pass rope under my nose before circling me with your arms, cocooning me, protecting me, I am aware of only us.  A happy bliss.

June 25th, 2013

Olfactory Pleasure

Smell is really important but often a sense taken for granted. Without it, you can’t taste complex flavours fully, you can’t appreciate fragrance, you can’t smell dangerous situations like smoke, you don’t experience petrichor.

I am one of those people who enjoy slightly odd smells, like freshly pressed tarmac or toluene and yet I hate the odor of freshly mown grass.

I have scent memories. I get a feeling of dajavu with certain smells. The smell of my first kiss. The scent of a certain perfume that I don’t know the name of. I love it.

There are also the smells that will turn me on. Jute rope, leather, latex. All smells that are heavenly to me. A leather glove over my nose and mouth, my bag of bondage rope, Liberation’s shop in London. A delight for my nose, my brain, my cunt. I can try and dissociate when required but it’s hard when one tiny hint of the scent will have my mind thinking of all possibilities.

April 22nd, 2013


I crave to feel its touch on my skin.
To smell the oil, the fibre, before it even comes near me.
To feel that connection, the closeness, the unique intimacy.
Desiring the restriction, the way it takes my breath away, the roughness on my bare skin.
Wanting the release of my mind, my thoughts only in that moment.
To see the marks cut into my flesh, the patterns on my body.
The come down in your arms, the flow of our energy, the passion of something so simple yet complex.

I shall leave you with a photo of the last partial I did before my operation. Taken at Rope Office Hours, April 2013 by Eddymonster. Rope by Ruby and Eddymonster. Models: myself and the girl


March 2nd, 2013

Partial Suspension Demo

This weekend saw the first Liverpool and Merseyside Peer Rope event held at THI (an awesome venue that I shall definitely be going back to). I was lucky enough to act as demo bunny for R and I just feel the need to share.

Sat beside her whilst she gives a brief intro, I’m hugging my chest, already feeling vulnerable and a little nervous. I knew what the plan was and was sure my hip would be fine but I wanted to do my best, to be a good bunny. Plus I knew she was going to ask me to strip and I was feeling a little shy!

She got my to my knees with ease and used the rope against me, whipping, binding me tight, showing me who was in charge. A quick warm up before the main event.

The blindfold on, a technicality as my eyes are closed from the second I am in her arms, in our rope bubble. The mix of mean and gentle, building the connection. My arms behind my back, the bindings around my chest and arms, the adjustments made, all have the same passion and energy as kinbaku with her but there is something so different too. Almost a fierceness in the precision of that rope. An additional feeling. A wonderful one.

She partially suspends my upper body and lowers me back, throwing in some pinches and slaps just to keep me there, just enough to tickle the masochist in me. She hoisted my leg, leaving me feel rather exposed, whispering in my ear to remind me of our audience. I know I blushed slightly, a reminder of my shame, made worse by the moans that I couldn’t contain as she gently ran rope between my legs whenever she had a chance.

The fast, sharp, tight binding round my other leg, pushing me, making my feel fabulous. Her pulling my other leg up even straighter before letting me down. The pinches and digs at my ribs, the punches, the rope pulled suddenly at my neck, the gasp and choke as it catches me off guard.  She doesn’t stop putting energy in as she unties, the rope still feels amazing coming off.

I am free but her arms are around me, bringing me back down. Only then can I even think of opening my eyes and registering all the people watching. I barely have that time when the punches begin to rain down on my again. Again and again, with the slapping and pinching and meanness. A pause to tidy and realise that everyone had left,  leaving R to beat me some more and realise just how turned on I am, and how much more so as she slaps my cunt. My legs spread, facing the open door, commanded to wank as she abuses my nipples, given permission to come, knowing that people will have heard, not knowing which people have seen me.

The final comedown, the awesome hugs and the energy that’s still there .  And the bruises to follow!

February 2nd, 2013

If You Go Down To The Woods Today

I barely have time to give you a hug and set down my bag when you announce that we’re going for a walk. I’m surprised, knowing that you’d been talking about having a film marathon but I don’t question you as we head out of the door. You stay slightly ahead of me, silently leading me towards the wooded area near your house. It’s a sunny day and we are pass plenty of people enjoying the unusually good weather.

It darkens as we head under the canopy of the trees. Suddenly, I feel your grip on my arm, whipping me around and backing me into a tree. In a flash, your hand is around my throat. I hear the rope as you smoothly unravel it in your other hand. The sound makes me shiver involuntarily, the smell filling my head full of memories, making me melt. Your deft hands bind me to the tree, my legs apart, my hands free. The snugness of the rope and the unexpected change in mood cause me to zone out, eyes shutting with content.

The sting of your hand across my cheek brings me back to the real world. My eyes open in time to see the blade in your hand, starting to cut away at my top. I try to protest, you silence me, the blade held against my throat. You say nothing. A breeze skims over me and I’m suddenly very aware; we’re still in sight of the path, anyone could walk past, anyone could see. My nerves are building up and goosebumps raise on my arms.

My clothes are soon no more than tattered rags, dropping to the floor, my underwear remaining. You stand back, admiring your handiwork, looking at my body hungrily. Shyly, I try to cover up but you shake your head disapprovingly. I lower my head in shame, worried that people will see me, ashamed of my near nakedness. As though you can read my mind, you finally speak.

“Anyone could walk along the path right now. I don’t know why you’re so bothered though. It’s not like you’re naked…yet.” you say with a devilish smirk, holding my chin up with the point of the knife.

You move to tighten the ropes that bind me, carefully tracing your hands over the places on my body that you know will make me weak at the knees. You command me to close my eyes, a mental blindfold, and the world darkens. You tease and torment, using your hands, your nails, your teeth, to pinch and punch, bite and scratch, slap and caress. Then the cold metal at each shoulder, the fall of my now ineffective bra straps. The sharp point running from my neck, down my sternum, the tearing of material, my breasts hanging freely, my nipples aching and hardening in the sudden cold. The knife travels down. My knickers are next, falling away at your blade. You press the flat of it against my cunt.

“Oh, dear. My knife is filthy now, little slut. Clean it!”

Pushing against my other lips, I realise my body has betrayed me. I am terrified but obviously hornier than I’ve been in a long time. I take my time, cleaning your blade carefully, pondering what my fate is.

Tension mounts and I am afraid. Minutes feel like hours. My cunt aches. I hear rustling, footsteps, the snapping of twigs. I crave your touch, your kiss, your breath on my skin but you don’t even feel nearby. I shiver and automatically cross my arms over my chest, covering my breasts, trying to protect them.

“I don’t think so” and suddenly you’re there, wrenching my wrists down to my sides. “We’d better keep those hands busy. Touch your cunt, wank for me.”

I am mortified. I don’t want to. What if someone sees? I feel my cheeks turning red, my body tensing.

“What are you waiting for? I know how wet you are, you must be dying for release, for hands on your clit, something filling your cunt.”

My cheeks glow brighter. I know you are right but I can’t do it. I struggle a bit, wondering how to get out of this, my aching cunt battling with my shame. I feel rope, suddenly biting at my neck, pulling tighter as I gasp for air, hands clawing at the rope.

“Do it or I will tie up your hands and leave you here. Then you will have to wait until someone finds you and unties you. What if it’s someone you work with?”

You know how to push my buttons. With tears of humiliation pouring down my face, I reluctantly start to finger my clit, embarrassed at just how wet I am. “Do it properly” you hiss. I try to let myself go but the rustling of leaves, the crunching of twigs, the distant barking, I have no idea if there’s anyone else here.

“Come on. I’m not letting you go until I am satisfied with you.”

My fingers move faster, my other hand pulls at my nipple. A moan betrays me, you chuckle. I want your hands on me but I know must make do with my own, starting to lose myself in sensation. I slip my fingers inside me and tremble as my cunt takes over. I am close to the edge but I ease off, afraid to come, scared people will hear.

“Keep going, little whore, but don’t come. Not until I say. And you’re not allowed to stop either, not until I am happy with you.”

Of course, now, my knees are weak and my body is finding it hard to not let go. I finger my throbbing clit. “Please?” Silence. I whimper and moan, wriggling against the tree, panting, struggling. “Please?” Again, I am met with silence. I am light headed, barely able to breathe, struggling with myself, with the denial. I can’t even beg.

“Come for us” whispered sweetly, gently.

I burst, letting go, moans turning to screams, quaking, only staying upright because of the rope holding me firmly to the tree. I carry on, a finger on my clit, two slipping in and out of my cunt, my whimpering building in waves again, the thought of someone else being there simultaneously horrifying and encouraging me. Orgasm after orgasm crashes through me, I know someone must have heard, must have seen. I can barely breath. You tell me to stop. Your whispering in my ear, stoking my hair, telling me I’ve been a good girl. The rope loosens, your strong arms are around me. I’m scared to open my eyes. I want to remember this moment, before I face reality.

January 2nd, 2013

Merit Badges

I’ve been a fan of the Kinky Merit Badges for a while now and won four of them in the SM Dykes auction at conference last June.  I also got a Jed Phoenix sash to put them on but have never really got round to doing anything with them.  I’ve finally decided that I need to purchase the other three I think I will deserve and set myself tasks to earn these badges.  Along with that, I also want to make/find myself an outfit that looks something like the old Brownie uniforms to wear my sash with so I can be a kinky girl guide!  I just need a shirt dress and a neck tie thing, maybe in latex (Iki, I’m looking at you!)  So I have something like this, but black:

These are the badges I have and what I plan on doing to award them to myself.  It’s all rather silly, to be honest, but why should kink be so serious all the time?


I want to get better at my flogging technique as I can already take quite a flogging and have made my own floggers.  I am not going to award this one to myself until I feel I can use the long flogger we bought at Folsom.


This one is going to also be awarded for my topping ability too as I would love to learn how to do some basic ties and use the lovely rope Ruby gave me for Christmas.  I will award this to myself when I feel I have managed a scene using rope where I have good connection with my bottom and not just focusing on the rope itself.


This is going to be one I earn for bottoming, I feel as it has been a long time since I’ve been able to receive a caning due to my brain’s difficulty processing pain.  I will know when I am ready to give myself this one.

Breath Control

To be honest, I think I can already give myself this one as I have done this from the top and bottom side of things and love it!


This is one that I think I should have from a topping point of view but I don’t think I deserve it yet until I receive another good, hard spanking!

Needle Play

I want to have a few more needle scenes under my belt and possibly also stick needles in a willing bottom before I let myself have this badge.

Deep Throat

I think the husbear would probably agree that I deserve this one already as I really don’t have much of a gag reflex, although I think that I can make someone choke on my femme cock more first!  Teehee!

April 4th, 2011

Teacher’s Pet

When I was at school, I had a favourite teacher who I was constantly trying to impress and get in the good books of. Being good at her subject, it was pretty easy and looking back, I was definitely a teacher’s pet. I’m starting to think that, if Kink Academy was a bricks and mortar school that I could actually attend, Gray Dancer would be that teacher for me. He’s definitely my favourite faculty member currently and I really enjoy watching what he has to say. And what’s more, he really is very informative and I think I have learnt the most from him, so far.

Read more…

December 6th, 2010


This is a rather old video of me (2006!) and probably one of the scariest moments of my life. A friend of mine was looking for participants to be filmed for some short bondage films and I thought “why not”, assuming that I would be getting tied up by someone. Instead, I found myself having to tie up one of the most sexually intimidating woman I know*** with pretty little notice! I ended up skim reading the only bondage book I only (acquired from the exact same woman I was tying up) and trying to cram in as much information as I could. I don’t love the end result (I never do like watching myself) but it was from an interesting time in my life and I’m glad I’m getting back some of who I was back them.


*** Cakemix is actually one of the loveliest and most awesome people I know and one of my longest standing friends. I just wish I got to see her more often than I do currently.

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May 28th, 2009

I Love Rope!

I enter subspace really easily when I’m tied up good and proper.  It’s an odd feeling and hard to describe but I love it.  Very different from pain endorphins.

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