De-tangling Memories from the Ropes

Earlier today, I was going through a pile of ropes headed to the laundry. To run a fifty foot length of rope through my hands, checking for knots, and imperfections, is an act of love and meditation, bringing me to that clear, clean calm reminiscent of the blissful high I enjoy at the end of a good long session.

...It is the high that lingers even after I have freed my submissive from his or her bondage. I have guided my sub through a perilous journey various predicament, and together climbed to the heights of ecstasy - the high of which I speak continues as we fall back to the generally accepted reality.

And as I handle each of these ropes I sip a bit of the joy I get as I bind my submissive into various positions, as I see fit.
I was talking the other day with my dear friend, Selene, another Domina whom I respect and love very much. We fell into a passionate conversation about the art of bondage being an active and present one. We found that we both may plan a basic structure before a scene, and may use it or abandon it as we see fit in the moment of creating a harness, or binding the sub into a particular position.

I can say for myself that most of my rope creations on a sub are new and different with each one, and indeed what I love about it is the extreme presence I enter into with my rope and the sub. The present moment and the body of the sub, opens the path for the next, as I find new ways of hooking, weaving, and balancing the rope into handles, cuffs, harnesses and leashes.

....and then when I have the rope locked into place. I slip my hand between the bondage and the flesh, give it a sound tug, and laugh as the submissive tumbles towards me, or as he/she tests the tightness with the squirms of an attempted struggle. This is art in action.

I have now played a few times with one particular relative newcomer to the BDSM world. I have found in the ropes beautiful new harness creations to fit his body, and introduced him to the joys of CB bondage, and light suspension. I have watched his body stiffen and strain against the rope, as he giggles and involuntarily attempts to escape my tickling fingers on the bottoms of feet. Oh, how I delight in the futility of his attempts.

In what could have only been a few quick seconds he finds himself helplessly bound to a reclining therapist's chair...He is open and exposed. She straddles over the chair, towering over his bound body. She bends over him and in a quick eternity, has slipped her hand into his, which is bound tightly to the sides of the chair. It is a quick check for changes in temperature, a safety glance into his well-being, but perhaps her hand lingered in his a moment longer...She lowers herself onto his lap, just below his bound and c. and b. A wicked laugh escapes when she notices how his member twitches as she does so, and she tugs on the rope , tightening it just a little more...

Hmmm. Delicious sweet memories in these ropes.