Posts tagged affection
Ropemance: Rope Journaling 10-20

For the first time, my life is boring. In the best possible way. Devoid of drama, contained and oh so very pleasant.

My life used to be frantic. There was always a tragedy, or a mistake I needed to find my way out of, or some new worst night/day/job/date ever! I thought that's just how life was and other people were better at juggling and processing life than I was. But slowly over the last year I’ve divorced myself from all that and discovered how simple life can be if you let it.

Shitty roommates left.  I let myself heal from my past relationship mistakes and learned from them. I published my book.  I stopped talking to people who only made me sad or feel empty. I stopped fucking around so I could really see and enjoy the man in front of me.  And finally I got a new job complete with no manspainers or sexual harassers.

In this new life I've built, things are simple and logical.  I make good decisions, I smile a lot, my brain is healing from PTSD and abuse, and I finally feel hope. Like I walk down the street and think about the future instead of dreading it.  Instead of cursing how much longer I’d have to put up with this life I was given in the karmic lottery I’m excited to see what happens next.

And my life now, though quiet, is full of sex, genuine intimacy, and rope. Oh so much rope. I didn’t think I'd ever find someone as into tossing rope around and nerdily learning or practicing things as me. Sure I’d had a lot of casual rope encounters and a couple long term rope friendships. But never a ropey lover to call my own.

My memoir ends with me admitting I still haven’t found my ropemance even after all those shenanigans contained within the pages of the book.  The epilogue was the hardest  part to write. Because why would you want to buy a book about rope from from a lady who doesn’t even have her rope life together? She only plays with rope once a month? What a shitty rope expert!

Proof of rope happiness

Proof of rope happiness

Then I was hanging out with some literary friends who were giving me a hard time for rarely coming out of my happy little nest anymore.  Teasing me for having an endless smile and answering, “how have you been?”  With “Awesome!”  And meaning it.

After blushing I shot back, joking, "I’ve never gotten to have a sweet man friend before. Let me enjoy it.  He likes rope I like rope. Why do I ever need to leave the house?”

My friend, the person who helped me find that epilogue within my book and edit the crap out of my manuscript, her face lit up, “So you wrote Rope Slut and promptly stopped promoting yourself to go celebrate by getting tied up? You found your ropemance!”

“Oh crap, you’re right!”  I said dreamily

It’s a funny thing to find yourself living the epilogue to your own written epilogue.  It’s nice here. I’ve found peace amidst the mind blowing orgasms, nights of watching dumb TV and cooing at every dog we see on the street.  It’s nothing like I pictured it.  Nothing and everything I was looking for all at once.  I like it here, I think I'll stay around a good long while.

The Secret Sadist: Rope Journaling 9-21

When we first met he would just laugh when I half joking half serious would accuse him, “you're secretly a sadist you just don't know it yet.”


I've dated enough men residing on all shades of the vanilla/kinky top/bottom spectrum to see the potential in him.  The narrowed eye at a bratty comment. The playful spanks to test the waters, getting more intense with each positive reaction. The wrestling for control as foreplay.


I suspected if I was patient and rewarded his playful attempts at practicing confidence and control he would come around. It wasn't a requirement but it would be nice to not always be in charge. Besides the sassy grin on his face to hear me moan each time he pulled my hair or bit me spoke to him enjoying being mean quite a bit.


Still I'm momentarily taken aback one evening when I'm messing around with workshopping a tie on him and stop to say, “ I could try it again or….I could teach you a thing if you like.”


“Teach me.” He says grabbing a hank of rope.


And I do harkening back to the first time we were in the same room. Here we are again. Him the student, me the teacher. But this time I'm not teaching him sexy rope to use on someone else. I'm specifically teaching him what I like in the hopes he'll tie it on me. Maybe even soon.


He's a quick study. It helps that our brains work similarly so we breeze through the basics until he's got my wrists bound behind my head and incorporated into a chest harness. He smiles slyly at his work, takes a picture to record the moment and unties me. Lather, rinse, repeat until he's confident the steps are saved in his brain. We move on with our evening and I'm perfectly happy with this new step in his bondage knowledge but don't think too much of it while kissing and congratulating him as we cook dinner.


So the next afternoon when I'm least thinking of rope let alone imagining myself tied up, he surprises me by pushing me onto his couch to “practice” a wrist cuff. Before I know it he has me tangled up in all the lengths of rope we'd lazily left uncoiled on his living room floor, too eager to move onto dinner and the bedroom, we left a mess of jute.


He uses this to his advantage as he improvises. The wrist cuff gets bound to my thigh and I smile to watch his brain work, considering how to use up the rest of the rope in an artistic manner. He loops the remaining rope in spirals down my leg and grabs for the next piece of floor rope which he loops over my chest in a way that captures my nipples in a manner that's half painful and half delightful.  This is a tie I've tormented him with many times in the past. Clever boy, he'd been paying attention.  The next rope he uses to put a cuff on my free ankle and frog that leg up on itself and then trap my free hand to my body.


I'm tied up in an odd and beautiful ball. All asymmetry and borderline sadism. “Is this what you meant when you said you like awkward rope?”


“Exactly, thank you, meanie.”


“What? You don't like the asymmetrical handles I added to you?”


I just furrow my eyebrows at him and playfully pout as he tugged at the various handholds of rope covering my body. Each time he yanks me around it shifts the rope across my limbs, pinching or tugging in unexpected places. Just as I'm enjoying this playfulness he lets go of the rope, dropping me to the couch with a thump and instead begins reaching for ticklish places. Areas of my body left exposed for him to manipulate.


Soon I'm squirming all over the couch and his lap, giggling, squealing, and making all manner of ridiculous noises as he tickles me mercilessly. He smiles and laughs the entire time. This is the perfect form of sadism for him in this moment, it's silly and yet I'm breathless and occasionally cursing him.


When I've struggled enough that the rope is tightening in weird places that could eventually become dangerous, he unties me. Pausing occasionally to lean in for a kiss which I return deeply, grinning at him as he untangles me.  Our eye contact is all silly satisfied sweetness that makes me feel gooey inside.


“I told you there might be a little sadist in there somewhere.”


“Me? Nope. Never.” He tries to look at me all sweet and innocent but his smug is showing so I don't believe his aw shucks for a fraction of a second.


He knows exactly what he's started and I look forward to seeing what else we can get into while trading places and desires and giggles in rope. Afterall he's been all too willing to allow me to experiment on him as I regain my confidence and passion for rope. I'm all too happy to return the favor for him especially if it means I'll get to be tied up occasionally.  Yeah, life is good.