Fancy Rope Work

There is a great interest in Japanese style rope work, known as Shibari or Kinbaku. Shibari is Japanese for “bind”. Kinbaku means “bind tightly”. They are considered an art and a discipline. It goes beyond the knowledge of ropes to “kokoro”, knowledge of mind, body and spirit

Kinbaku is the one thing, other than actual punishment, that I fear most because of where in my head the process takes me and the length and intensity that is often associated with the practice.

The process; Master and I went for a walk through the fields and circled the Oak Trees at the top of the mountain. We sat on a fallen tree under the leafless branches of the wintering trees and simply enjoyed being with each other.

Tension built as we walked toward the house. My pre-bondage break was near an end.

I stripped to nothing. Master began building my bindings by wrapping soft hemp rope around my abdomen, coiling it around until my entire mid-section was covered. He kept the coil in place by weaving the rope back through the coil which tightened with each tug until my breathing was constricted. He continued twisting the rope, running it slowly and sensually over my skin. Eventually, I was suspended, ass in the air and my legs spread to expose my anus. My arms were spread apart, each held asymmetrically away from my body. Master gagged me a rope monkey fist and then snapped a pair of Japanese sail maker clamps onto my nipples and another pair on my perinea and my frenum.  Pain from the second pair of clamps built rapidly while the nipple clamps were sensuous. The coils of rope tightened as I struggled.

Master eventually removed the clamps and pushed me sideways, sending me swinging from side to side. I began to feel emotional as if I was near tears. I can’t explain the intensity of the helplessness, humiliation and a sort of cathartic remorse over nothing that I could recognize.  Master blindfolded me with a white and black bandana that was like a veil instead of blindness.

I was there, hanging without knowing how much time had passed. I could sense Master by the smoke from his cigar. He hasn’t smoked since early December before our holiday trip. It was a comforting smell it again.

Master lit several red candles. He poured pools of wax over my body until I began to scream. He had poured wax over my anus and genitals. He continued the torture until a thick layer of wax built up enough to forms a protective layer of everything that had been sensitive He lowered me to the floor and left me alone. I couldn’t understand why this session was so emotionally intense for me but it sapped me of all of my energy. I gave up trying to intellectualize and let myself wander through fleeting thoughts and memories until I fell sound asleep. I woke to find my head and shoulders propped among Master’s legs. He was stroking my head and bound shoulders. His erect cock pressed against my chest.

Master slowly and with the same sensuality untied me, letting the rope drop and slide on my body. He took as much or more time untying me as he did tying me. He tickled me and played with my wax encrusted tit and genitals. He untied me except for my arms and gag then lifted my upper body up and laid it over a table. He peeled the wax from rectum and filled it with lubricant. He fucked me. It was the third time of the day. Once in bed, twice, over the fallen tree on the mountain top and then a third time while still bound.

Yes, he has an insane sexual appetite. I am lucky to be the only recipient of his hunger.

Master peeled the wax from my genitals as he brought me to the edge. He edged me several times, leaving me to burn inside from near orgasm. It caused agony that I relished. He removed my gag and spread my mouth open with his hands and spit into my throat. At the moment of passion I didn’t mind it. He finally jacked me off, giving me permission to cum. He finished untying me and then we sat on the floor, kissing and hugging each other.

 

Spit

There are a few things that I object to. The worst is scat, the second is ingesting blood and having something spit into my mouth. I am not so concerned about Master spitting into me because we are so close anyway. He hates scat and blood sharing for the obvious reasons. They are a source, an easy source, of contracting illness of all sorts, not just sexually transmitted diseases.