why one girl likes bondage

I do not remember exactly the first time I was bound, but discounting those drugstore fuzzy handcuff kind of games, it was probably with a man I had known for twenty years. Our relationship had only recently made its shift from “friends” to “soon-to-be-lovers.” We were at his home, and he explained that his bedroom was such a catastrophe that he did not want me to see it, and therefore he wanted to blindfold me. Because he was a longtime friend, I had no “trust issues” and could surrender to the game.

A blindfold is an interesting form of bondage.

The loss or restraint of a sense, increases and/or alters the perceptions of all the other senses. When I really want to hear the music of a band, closing my eyes helps me concentrate my focus. When I cannot see the ground that I am walking on, I increase my attention to the sensations in my feet, and even attend more sincerely to the sounds and smells around me (that babbling brook noise will be something I want to track and avoid plunging into).

I happen to be a big believer in the transformative possibilities of truly sensing the world around us.

This new lover turned out to also have a fondness for tying my hands together–during sex, but at other times as well. And I found that I had a fondness for the surrender the restriction created.

I was well aware that this “surrender” was consensual and could be broken at any time. I was fine with that; it did not make the surrender any less powerful or important.

Surrender is an enormous component of bondage.

The surrender was compelling. It meant (means) dropping pretense. It means elevating trust. It means a heightened awareness that is accompanied by a decreased vigilance.

It is a fast track to bliss.

∞

Fast forward a couple of years, and I found myself in new circles and with a lover who would do more complicated rope bondage on me. In our earliest adventures, he bound me in a simple wrap that I have since learned is called a karada, and I wore it under my evening gown, just a bit of the white rope and knots peeking out above the neckline; there was an interesting sense of displaying a secret, publicly.

Another night, this man tied my hands and feet, in a fashion which prevented me from traveling anywhere of my own accord. I was in my own home and was by this point good friends with this lover, so I could surrender into a deep place of trust. But he took me even more deeply when he whispered one of the most romantic things anyone has ever said to me, “If there is an earthquake or a fire, I will carry you out of the building,” and he lifted me from the floor to demonstrate that he could do this.

I mean, I know his whisperings sound completely technical and like a real mood killer. But I was struck by the level of attention he was giving to me, and his overall respect for the risks I was taking.

∞

Fast forward, again, and I am with friends, and one friend-of-a-friend, who happened to be a professional dom visiting from Texas to see a client. And lucky for me, this man also was a talented rigger, there was setup for aerial equipment in the space, and he was more than happy to tie me up and take me flying.

This was my first time going beyond “household” bondage; I was now under the hands of someone whose talent went far beyond spinning a few hanks of nylon rope around my wrists and ankles (not that there is anything wrong with that!).

That night, I stood naked in the softly lit room, closing my eyes to take in as much as I could of the new sensations. I felt the fiber of the ropes slide across my skin, tickling just the tiniest amount, under the sharp coarseness of the hemp. I felt the tugging and tension as the body harnesses were built by wrapping the rope around my torso and my hips. I felt myself sink more and more deeply into my own self–a quiet, breathing, blood-flowing human being who was moving into uncharted realms.

And then, just after my rigger whispered a request that I confirm that I was a-okay, I heard, “I am taking you up now,” (to which I nodded), and then I was off the floor and in the air.

I was now in awe, and pain.

Flying is an interesting sensation. Imagine those goofy old-timey movies with angels suspended from a rope on stage, flying back and forth–that’s how I was moving. And it came with very much the sense of being one of those angels–quite ethereal.

But as I said, it came with distinct pain. In suspension bondage, the rope harnesses are what hold and distribute a body’s weight, which means that all my weight was compressed upon a few inches of thin hemp rope–my skin, my bones, my nerves, pushed down under all my weight onto the wraps of the harnesses.

It was not an unendurable pain, but it was bold and all present.

This pain, is a source of transformation and enlightenment.

Here’s the deal. When someone ties me up, the bondage is something that I have chosen to be inside. If it is painful, it is only pain to which I have consented. Now, this is simplifying somewhat, because as the rigging is built, there is communication about incidental pain and adjustments are made to eliminate or mitigate it. And as the ropes are applied and take possession of my body there are discomforts, rather like a pair of shoes which fit in a slightly out-of-sorts fashion.

But then a line is crossed, and pain becomes an accepted aspect of the process. This line might be the introduction of a tie that stretches the limbs, or it might be a knot that is placed in a very uncomfortable fashion. This line might be when a body is moved from supporting its own weight, to the moments when the weight is transferred to a harness.

And when the line is crossed, it is time to meet my pain.

There are few times when we humans really meet pain. We usually avoid pain, or take some drug to relieve it. We typically deem the presence of pain as an indicator of something being wrong.

Being in bondage gives me a chance to not run away from my pain. I guess this is like the advice we get about looking our fears in the face. And staying right here, right now with my pain, well that reminds me that I am greater than the pain.

And the interesting thing is, while the experience is of physical pain, the effect transmutes to emotional pain.

∞

Beings that I am girl who is currently walking around with a LOT of (emotional) pain, having a chance to be greater than my pain, is transformative. I glean a strength of spirit that comes with conquering the physical pain.

The combination of surrender and meeting my own pain, takes me into an interesting realm where I feel a deep, deep trust. Obviously, I am trusting the person who has tied me up, but I find I move into a more enormous place of more enormous trust. A place where I feel–even if only for the minutes that I am bound–that everything is perfect and just right with my world.

∞∞∞

Continued.

Photo: found bondage by Tom Hickmore and used under Creative Commons license.