The Why of My Rope

You can find hundreds of articles and websites about playing with rope. Youtube how-to guides. Books that detail every step, each knot, with pretty, thin female models in black leotards. Some resources may give you pretty standard safety regulations: a paragraph about consent, a line about keeping safety scissors next to you. If you get an exceptional resource, there will be a bit about where you should avoid putting pressure, different types of rope, and how to tie for restriction vs beauty.

I’ve watched many videos online about rope. I’ve even tried some basic ties out on myself or a willing partner. I would watch a few steps, tie a little, watch a few steps… I wanted there to be a basic formula I could follow and have a result that was satisfactory. All of that was at the start of my rope journey, before I learned that topping in that manner wasn’t of interest to me.

Bottoming for rope, however, is something that interests me very much. Coming to understand the way rope makes me feel every. Single. Time. has prompted a journey that has grown a beautiful power exchange. It has also led to self-exploration about the why behind the what- Why does rope specifically make me feel this way? Why is the formulaic method of learning to tie simply not enough? Why is it important to stretch and to understand my body’s reaction when I’m being tied instead of being completely passive and floating along on the river of rope space?

This past Friday, Miss and I attended a three hour rope intensive with Mango, a rigger who has studied and tied internationally. The class, named Japanese Rope Bondage for Queer Folks, focused on two particular ties” the ebi-zeme (forward folded body) and the hogtie. Having never been in either tie, I was a little nervous going into the class. For a relationship that started off as becoming rope partners, Miss and I have not focused on rope in the year and a half we have been dating.

The first tie was significantly more challenging to be in. Not because it was particularly painful for most of my body, like I feared it would be. Mostly because the position shoved my abundance of boobs into my throat, making breathing difficult in a nonsexy sort of way.

The hogtie, however, was a thing of beauty. Whether it was because we were warmed up at that point and had gotten over our nerves or because our mindset changed because of course content, the flow state that Miss and I reached was lovely. I was able to maintain enough of a focus on my body to…