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The online diary of an ethical pervert.

Thursday 25 February 2010

Girl on girl on girl on... Part 3

It's the weekend. I'm in a room full of other women in various states of undress and I've gotten to the not-quite-sleepy but very serene state. The pain has receded, that part is over. I've an undercurrent of unsated desire - Hedwig claims she can smell me and I'm not about to deny it. I've gone kittenish, curling up by the heater, lapping water lazily from a bowl that someone has kindly provided. Using my hands doesn't feel right and I roll my fingers into my palms.

Hedwig starts to tie me up. Plain, undyed hemp in neat coils, the mark of someone who knows their craft. I find being put into rope bondage very meditative. I like to think I'm a good rope bunny: I'm long and lean and reasonably flexible (not quite enough for Captain, but then, there's always further that one can go). The important thing is to relax
soft muscles and loose limbs can be pulled into better positions. Also, don't try and "help". Move if you are told to move, but otherwise let yourself be wound around. I like to flex a little once they are done, test the rotation and give of the bonds, especially if suspended and I can spin on a heel or similar. But this is floor work, and I'm becoming gradually more enclosed. Arms tied behind my head, elbows spread like a sun lounger catching rays. A harness around my breasts, squeezing them into flat points of pleasant pressure. One leg gets bent, ankle to hip then coiled round and round and round in beautiful, intricate flow of rope and knots. The other leg goes up into a ballet point, I giggle a little as a piece of rope goes through my toes, but otherwise I am content to be silent, smiling hazily. The more I'm tied, the more relaxed I become - it's permission not to engage, and I find myself shutting down a little, as if covered with a duvet and lain down in a darkened room to fall asleep.

There's a strength and expertise in her ropework that I wasn't expecting. I knew she was good, but not this good. I can tell, because she has a definite and defined style, which I am able to appreciate from close quarters: her attitude is controlled but also artistic, making something pretty, creating something. She's quick and doesn't hesitate much, or pause, instead deftly wrapping rope around me in long fluid movements. The rope is firm and well-placed (no flaccid, floppy bands that need to be tightened later!). Instead, when she is done, there is an engaging lattice structure. I feel like a mermaid, caught in a net.
A silly, grinning mermaid, all spaced out.

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