Kai Tied Down

I haven't posted here since November. Long time. I imagine that if I had any readers at any point, they're probably gone now. But... this blog exists for me. For the most part, anyway. And I say "for the most part" because I have an assignment to write today.

In February, DW bought me some hemp rope. My birthday gift. We dyed it together; black for the longest, red for the middle length, green for the shortest. It was a wonderful gift. But, at the same time, I was surprised at it. Maybe even a little sad. Because part of the reason the kink side of our relationship was dropping off was due to issues of time and

energy... and rope isn't exactly a quick and easy toy. Rope takes time. It takes patience. It takes attention to detail. You can't just slip it on and then slip it off when you're done. I loved my gift, but I was afraid that we would never actually use it.

Last night... I don't know what exactly it was that brought about last night. A combination of things, I think. A month ago, while I was waiting in an airport in Salt Lake, I told him that I wanted to have sex with him while tied to the bed. I like the idea of restriction in that context. Only being able to move as much as I'm allowed to move. As much as he allows me to move. Yesterday, I told him that I wanted him to come home, throw me on my back, and have sex with me. That I wanted him to hold me down, hold my legs apart, take me over and over.

He told me no. He had other plans for me.

The funny thing about things like this is that I never expect them to really happen. I can say that I want to be tied down and taken, but part of me always expects it to always be something I say. Potential without action. But I got what I wanted. I got what I wanted.

And it was good. Frustrating. Agonizing. Intense. Something... that was what I needed and wanted but not quite fulfilling because I couldn't push myself past my performance anxiety. Take myself out of my own head enough. Convince my body to do what it was told.

DW tied a harness around my chest in red rope, an inverted five-pointed star. He tied the green rope around each of my legs so that my knees stayed bent. He tied my wrists together above my head, and anchored my wrists and legs to the rings embedded in the bed frame. He leaned over me and told me the rules:

You can't come without permission.

I'm going to do whatever I want.

In unfamiliar physical situations, I'm afraid that my brain goes into too high a state of alert. I'm looking at details. I'm watching him tie the knots, fasten everything into place. In a way, paying too much attention. A situation like this, being held down and open with a scarf over my eyes so I can't see what's coming, I want to be able to let myself go. I need to be able to. But my mind doesn't want to give that up. A few times, I thought I could reach that place, where outside thought disappears and nothing exists outside of us. But my brain, it wants to keep its control. Its alertness. And the moment when it slipped the most was when DW held his face next to mine and told me those rules.

There was ice. Ice shocks me awake. And I couldn't get away from it. It stung the edges of my body--the outsides of my thighs, my side, my face. There was the small flogger that he keeps for close work, the vibrators pushing me into calm, low space even as the ice or the sharp teeth of the pinwheel worked to pull me out of it. Different sensations awaken different things in me, and the blend of the two--calming and arousing vs. sharp and flight-inducing--was simultaneously compelling and torturous. Part of me loved it. Part of me struggled even though my body had nowhere to go. At some point he slid the plug in. Painful at first, but ultimately lost under the vibrations. I opened to it without realizing I opened to it. Shortly after, one of the vibrators was pushed into me. I felt like my body couldn't hold that much. But it could. It did.

Through most of this, I desperately felt like I needed to finish. And this is where the performance anxiety comes in, because even after being granted permission, I couldn't actually do it. My body was aching and I needed it but it would not would not would not let go.

The vibrator came out. The plug came out. He put himself between my legs and slid into me. He undid the anchor ropes that held my legs to the bed frame, but left the green ropes in place, keeping my knees bent. He put a vibrator between us and told me to come. How many times did he tell me? Too many. Too, too many. And still I couldn't. I was locked. He pushed his body into mine and spoke low in my ear, my body pulsed, and still...

There has been an ultimatum of sorts in place between us for some time. If I don't finish during sex, neither will he. Part of the goal is to train me to trigger those muscles at will. To be able to respond to commands. To make it, in the end, easier. But it's so difficult. It felt so agonizingly good, bound down on my back with him moving inside me... but no matter how many times he commanded it, I couldn't finish for him.

And that was more painful than anything.

He gave me an assignment after that. Every two hours today, I will masturbate to orgasm while remembering his voice, telling me to finish. The rest of the assignment was to write this entry. Talking about last night. What happened. What it felt like. And it's hard to describe my feelings, exactly, but I hope that I've done a good job.

(The rope patterns dug into my skin were beautiful. I would wear them for longer if I could.)

I just need to learn how to take that extra step.