Seven Of Eros

3/6/10 UPDATE: There is a last-minute change of venue for the workshop discussed in this post. It will be at The Little Red Studio Gallery, 410 Dexter Avenue North, Seattle.

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Over the last few weeks I have been serving as a stunt bottom for someone who is taking private lessons from Max of BondageLessons.com. (”Bottom” meaning the person inside the ropes, and “Top” meaning the person applying the ropes.) Doing this has given me a very special opportunity to really focus on what it is like to be inside the ropes, and to try and articulate my experiences. I have been writing about some of that here on this blog.

I have found that rope bondage brings an amazing range of experiences, and I am becoming more and more passionate about it.

Granted, rope bondage (or whatever kink) might not be for you. (Uh heck, it didn’t used to be for me …)

But if you are curious to explore and are lucky to live in the Pacific Northwest, there are many opportunities. One, coming up in about two weeks, is Max’s workshop, “Bondage from the Bottom’s Perspective,” exploring the question:

What happens in someone’s head when they’re restrained?

This workshop starts with the bottom’s headspace and works backwards to technique. We’ll discuss different types of bottoms, the scenes most appropriate to them, and how tops and bottoms can maximize the likelihood of getting what they want out of a scene.

There’ll be demonstrations of bondage and discussions of what it is like to be in bondage.

This will be a nice chance for people who are curious about bondage–whether as a “bottom” or a “top”–to easily explore this realm. You won’t have to “risk” getting tied up, or bumble about tying up someone, but you will get a lot of information to contemplate, and you will meet people you can learn from if you decide you want to explore this more (including Max).

Another lesson with Max. This stunt bottom stuff is challenging, but educational and fun.

The photo is of the second lesson of the day. It has taken awhile to set up all the harnesses and “up lines” (the ones that run from the body up up up to a hard point of secure attachment somewhere above). I am already a little worn from the first lesson of the day, which was a partial suspension that had me first on tip-toes, then on one foot, then up, up, up and completely suspended.

But anyway. The second lesson.

One of the goals was to practice the “bridge” which is what you see there in the red ropes running upwards from my hip harness. See the three separate loops? These distribute the lift and allow the harness to be pulled upwards without collapsing all the wraps of the harness into just one row.

From the perspective inside the ropes, this is nice because the weight remains more evenly distributed, mitigating “hot spots” of pressure, which can be difficult to endure.

And from outside the ropes, the bridge helps keep things tidier, more beautiful. Some people don’t care so much about that, but I do.

The second goal of the lesson was to practice adjusting the up lines. This meant setting up the harnesses and up lines, and then raising me incrementally, bit by bit until I was well above the floor.

This was much more grueling than I’d anticipated. Granted, I was a little spent already, but as I write this I just realized the truly stressful element.

Every other suspension I have done involved a lift that made a rapid transition from my weight on the ground to my weight on the ropes. It might have been jarring or painful, but the shift happened pretty much all at once, and then I settled into the sensations.

But in this lesson the lift was slow. Each line was hoisted some, tied off, and then the next line was hoisted–until all four lines had been raised. Then the pattern was repeated, lifting me higher and higher above the ground.

This incremental hoisting caused my weight to be shifted repeatedly, bearing down in a new way with each lift. In retrospect I estimate there were a dozen or more separate hoists.

Each of these times I had to meet the sensations anew–at each of the four rope-points on my body–find my relationship to the rope, meet new pieces of pain.

And I think this need to repeatedly establish my relationship to the ropes is what ultimately made this session taxing.

Interesting.

Photo of me, by Max

There is just too much wrong with this.

Let’s begin with the term “dickie”. Does anyone outside a battered double-wide trailer call a penis a “dickie”? Really?

Then there’s the part about paying $2.40 each for what is essentially a paper towel with a hole in the middle. Really?

And the part about “just spit it out.” Like you need a bib on his cock so you don’t have to swallow? Really?

Look luvs. Grab a 12-pack of plain white terry washcloths next time you are at Costco, wash ‘em a few times, cut off the scratchy labels, and keep them tucked in a drawer or a basket by the bed. Easy.

It’s called Deathcake, and it might be all the love you need for Valentine’s Day. Or so the notion goes.

Sexy Seattle Twitter-loving peeps, check out Cupcake Royale’s V-day promo. Tweet two words describing why their Deathcake cupcake is all the love you need, and you could win two tickets to Dan Savage’s V-eve bash.

A sweet suspension “ring” available through Twisted Monk.

Indulgence chocolates via MoSex. Here are the “notes” from the catalog. I’m sure you see my point.

Inflame your senses with Museum of Sex Indulgence aphrodisiac chocolates. Created by world-renowned chocolatier Chocolat Moderne exclusively for the Museum of Sex, Indulgence is a decadent blend of the highest quality Valrhona chocolate and silky caramel infused with Shichimi Togarashi, a 400-year old Japanese aphrodisiac blend of red chili pepper, ginger root, orange zest, and black peppercorn. Every bite is a sensual delight for you and your lover.

I am so thrilled with what I learned this weekend. The whole weekend was packed with great experiences, and working with Max was one of them.

This photo is of the “homework” that I did this morning after meeting with Max and his student yesterday. I wasn’t sure that I had paid attention well enough to replicate what Max had demonstrated, but YES, I did.

I am excited that I was able to recreate this tie at home. For me it means that I have really learned some “building blocks” for simple bondage, that I don’t have to struggle with those, and can now just do certain things. You know, rather like driving, where in time you know enough about an automobile that you don’t have to concentrate on things like holding the steering wheel and touching the gas pedal, and instead can focus on getting to where you are going.

This is a big step for me.

Oh, I have a ton left to learn before I can even pretend to be proficient, but now it’s like I can actually see proficiency in my future.

And I am developing a greater awareness of nuances (and I am going to continue trying to catalog them).

This tie in the photograph Max had demonstrated on my wrists, but since I cannot practice on my wrists I built it around my ankles. And from this I learned a couple of things. It was nice to stand in this bondage with my feet apart rather than in a typical tied-close-together fashion. Being able to have a feet-apart stance eliminated the rather perilous, easily-off-balance position that comes when the ankles are bound close together.

And obviously this tie becomes a hobble–allowing the feet to “walk” slowly. But the interesting discovery was that while the tie is quite comfortable without movement, once I started hobbling across the floor, the cuffs worked back-and-forth on my skin, in a very rough and painful fashion–quite discouraging moving.

I love working with Max. He is very perceptive and can dial in on what his student needs, adjusting any lesson plan to fit the flow of the moment. It’s probably the extreme depth and degree of his experience that makes that happen. Whatever it is, it makes for a “classroom” where even I in my clumsy fashion can learn.

I had a great day learning.

Max had a new student for private lessons who needed a rope bottom to try things on during the lessons, and long story short, I ended up the lucky winner.

This was a perfect thing for me. I would never answer some random advertisement for someone looking to practice bondage. But because the whole thing was through Max–whom I trust completely–I had no important hesitations.

And what better way for me to learn more about bondage? I get to essentially “audit” the instruction, adding to my own repertoire during the lessons, but I also get to zone out a little here and there and just have a nice rope bottom experience. I mean it’s not like I really have to be paying attention to how to tie one knot or another … but if I do, I learn more.

But today what I learned most were some nuances about the experience of bondage that I hadn’t honed in on before.

This was in part because I was trying to give good feedback to Max’s fledging top–by verbalizing certain bits of my experience. For example, while Max was teaching his student a chest harness, student asked about wrapping the harness from behind versus wrapping it by walking around and around me.

And I tuned into the processes–they really are different. When my rope top stands behind me and wraps the harness strictly from that position, there’s some degree of “stranger danger” quality because I cannot see this person who is applying the ropes. But there is also a large amount of connection and intimacy, because of the closeness of our bodies, including the warmth of the top’s breath upon me.

But with a harness that is built by walking around me to make the wraps, there is a flow that emerges, and a soothing cadence that develops by virtue of the repetition of the top’s body (and hands) moving around, and around, and around, and around. In repetition there comes a predictability that humans find agreeable–because we know what to expect, a sense of safety emerges.

I will try and get back here tomorrow and write some more about the nuances I found, but this girl is tired and is off to bed now.

Okay. I confess. It has been much too long since I indulged myself with erotica–with the writing of it. So I am thrilled to have stumbled upon an “opportunity” to whet my pen–so to speak.

See, some fool man, some delicious, sexy fool man, has let me have his phone number. And in this modern world that means I can send him text messages.

And while this delicious fool man and I are not having sex (among other things, see previous whining post re: “not ready”), and in fact we barely know each other, and in fact we have occupied space in the same room for scant minutes … well, there’s a certain “spark” and it has inspired me. Okay, working the metaphor, it has ignited me.

So yesterday, while sitting in front of a client’s computer (billable hours, luv!) tapping my finger on the desk, waiting for some software thing to finish installation, I realized I could multi task :)

I started mentally composing hot little snippets to text to this hot man, and then tapping them into my phone:

. . . And I try to steal a kiss, but you continue to deny me. And being a man who deeply understands the art of tease and the joy of temptation, you give me the smallest bit of what I desire; you breathe against my cheek, and then whisper, “What do you want, hungry girl?”

And this small sample of you has your desired effect–my exhalation is audible, thick with my wanting you. I arch, and reach with my lips . . .

I am sooooo stoked to be writing like this again.

Photo: texting by dcvision and used with Creative Commons license.

I am not officially dating. In fact, I am officially not dating. That being said, I am trying to get back in touch with what dating is–here in the 21st century and all. One of these days, I will be dating, and–oh dear–I am not ready for this.

Gawd I sound like a fuddy duddy when I say that.

But here’s what happened. I think I accidentally had a date the other night. Accidentally, because I thought it was going to be an easy evening of dinner with an acquaintance I have known for several years, but haven’t gotten to know well yet. I’d anticipated we would spend some time sharing a meal and having some getting-to-know-each-other conversation. So even though I haven’t felt ready to start dating, I accepted his invitation to come over for dinner.

And then, not too long after we finished our meal, his cock got involved.

Oh yeah. I know, I know. With rare exception, any time you are dealing with a male there will be cock involved. And I actually quite enjoy that.

But what I do not enjoy is having to repeat myself, after once or twice expressing some version of, “Look, I love cock, but making yours happy tonight is not my responsibility, dear.”

You know, I just believe that that is a very fair position to take. But he continued to push–in those quietly ever-more-insistent ways. First a few fingers traced along my cheek. Then a few fingers traced along my skin at the hem of my skirt. Then a repositioning that reduces the physical gap between us on the couch. Then a kiss on the neck. Innocuous gestures.

But the essence of the gestures escalates, right. And the fingers along my skin become a hand, and the hand begins moving aside the hem of my dress, raising it up my leg. And then the hand slips to the soft inside of my thigh.

So I repeat my “No, thank you” non-verbally by shifting my entire body out from under the hand, because I meant what I said earlier in the evening, “I am not ready for sex.”

However, I am a thoughtful girl, and I do take delight in getting men all hot & bothered–but not leaving them completely high & dry. And I have grown to learn that masturbation–solo or mutual–can be a swell activity when folks are not–for whatever reason–willing and/or able to fuck. And I am not willing.

So, when it became obvious that my acquaintance was very keen on deepening our acquaintance, I schemed to evoke some fantasy material for him that he could indulge in after I went home. I mean, I was game for that, perhaps in part because I have a special interest right now in learning the more secret things that men like, in the belief that it will make me a better lover. So I started asking him about how he likes to masturbate–his technique and what he likes to think about while he is stroking himself.

And he started telling me.

All the while I am assuming that I had made it clear that I wasn’t going to stick around for the results, I was just going to help heat things up.

And this is where I feel lost about this dating stuff. When did it become the expectation that I would even be interested in sexually “pleasing” a man on our first date? And when did it become common practice to have sex anywhere near the “first date”? (And yes, this wasn’t supposed to be a “date” but the evening had taken on those kind of attributes.)

So I will jump ahead now past all the details and get to the part of the evening where he is half naked and we are in the bedroom. And I will assure you that I was still fully dressed (okay, my shoes were off). And I will confirm that there was no fucking there that night.

But I will confess that I failed. I failed to remember that where there is a man involved there is a cock involved, and that cocks–well, cocks are deaf, really. After all these years, how could I forget that?

I am frustrated with myself for forgetting all that. And I am pissed off that for three hours I had to keep asserting my boundaries.

I am grateful however, for the ultimately gentle reminder of how this stuff tends to go. Because I will start dating again someday, and I would like it to involve fun, and fucking. When I feel ready.

Photo: fingers of a climber by Roger Karlsson