DBRT 013: Baby’s First Rope Party

Well, it happened. I went to my first rope party as a Baby Rope Top, and it went quite well! The evening was quite extended and I could only take so many notes while I was there, so this won’t be a chronological or completely faithful retelling. Think of this more like a series of vignettes spread throughout the evening. Moments that particularly stood out to me in the subsequent days when I felt the motivation to write; altered by my own memory and perception.

 

Master building me up

I figured I’d show up about a half hour after the start time. Long enough to not be the first one there, but hopefully not too late as to interrupt anything.

 

I went to my Master for reassurance before leaving. “I’m nervous,” I said, tucking my chin. He sat down in a chair at the dining room table, instructing me to drop my bag of ropes and stand in front of Him. “Lift your chin,” He said, “spread your feet apart a bit. Good, now place your fists on your hips.”

 

“Now, I’m going to tell you some truths about yourself* He said, looking at me thoughtfully with a slight smile on His lips. “Oh brother”, I thought, breaking eye contact and turning my face to the side uncomfortably. My body remained where He had put it.

 

Affirmations, affirmations, affirmations, and all of them were true.

 

No music

I remember when I was younger, a tween if you will, I would walk home from school and let my imagination run wild. The lush green trees and bushes of my neighborhood transformed into gateways to worlds of magic and mystery. In the connection between my own mind and the real world lay a deeply satisfying magical make-believe. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve lost that ability. To transform the world into something different and feel content to stay there for hours.

 

In high school and college my world got darker, less hopeful. I retreated into myself and relied on distraction to get by. Videos, music, and podcasts played to protect me from my own thoughts and circumstances. Constant noise to keep me stagnant, to protect me from moving forward. Moving forward meant trying, and trying meant failing, and failing meant I was worthless.

 

But distraction prevents focus, and focus breeds connection, transformation, growth. There was no music at this party. A controversial choice to be sure, but not a bad one. The lack of music was awkward at times, but it also kept me anchored in the present. Where I was, who I was with, what was happening in the other rooms.

Gote with the host

One of the hosts asked me if I wanted to tie with him. I was interested, but knew I needed to check in with my Master first. We’ve put a system in place where He is in control of my sexual and kinky availability to prevent me from getting overeager and into sticky situations. “Curiosity killed the cat” and all that. But man oh man was I interested. The Gote Shibari or Box Tie is a very challenging tie that restricts the chest and arms through both positioning and rope application. I haven’t been in very many of them because of their challenging nature, and because the Tops I’ve worked with haven’t explored them very much.

 

In the Eastern style of rope bondage, Gote Shibari are relatively common and are central pillars of some of the more philosophical schools of rope. But, they’re easy to fuck up and much higher risk than your standard chest harness, so it’s best to learn them from an in-person instructor (in my opinion).

 

Again, I was interested. After getting the go ahead from my Master, I asked the host to talk me through his process. What he was doing and por qué he was doing it.

 

He started by talking about nerve compression and potential risks of the tie. Most of the information wasn’t new to me, but I’m happy to hear how other people talk about things. Then he worked to understand my body, how each of my arms reacted to a high hands Gote position. I had a nerve injury in my left shoulder a few years ago (not from rope but entirely preventable), so I’m always cautious about intense arm positions that contort my shoulder. He asked if I was hypermobile because of the position of my shoulder blades, which I am (no, I can’t do the splits, but I do have knee pain and GI issues. Is that sexy?).

 

I’ll skip through the tying of the Gote itself since I couldn’t see very much. An upline was attached to the back of the tie allowing me to experience some load while remaining on the ground. What happened next was quite profound.

 

He moved my body slowly, using the upline to shift my chest forward and to the left. I had been kneeling, so I shifted over into a sort of sideways position with my legs on the ground and my upper body hovering just above it.

 

I wanted to stay alert and attentive. I was a guest, a beginner, and a relative stranger. Though I wanted to let go and sink into the tie, I fought to keep my wits about me. Fought back the rush of rope-y subspace that flooded up my arms and into my head. But it felt so good, so safe, so cathartic, so uncomfortable, so challenging, so dangerous, so new, so familiar. It was so many things all at once.

 

I was very aware of how closely I was being watched. Partly because he was telling me (what he was looking at and why), and partly because of the movements and intention I could sense through the rope itself. He would shift my chest slightly, the load would change, my breath would catch, getting shallower and tighter. He would hold me there for a moment, then shift me again. So slowly. Moving my chest further forward, my breath would deepen, my body would relax. He was listening, watching my hands, making small adjustments, learning about me. I was learning about him.

 

It was a very intimate experience. We talked a lot afterwards. Lots of philosophizing and sharing. Other attendees slowly trickled in, listening and sharing their own ideas.

 

Philosophizing

Eventually everyone who was still at the party ended up in that room, joining the conversation. There was a lot of discussion about the point of all of this. Why do we feel the drive to pursue rope, and more specifically, why do we feel drawn to a style of tying that requires so much of us? So much of our time, attention, focus, humility. What is it that pulls us deeper and deeper into this world?

 

It isn’t the rope, I’ll tell you that much.

Observations of a scene from the couch

 

Long nails clicked pleasantly while she deftly pulled lines through expert frictions. Turning her bottom through her air. Tattoos of flowers married together with rope lined the bottom’s body, their deep sighs drifting over to me on the couch.

 

“Oh, bitch” came the exclamation as a single column was used to pull their leg into a challenging position. Laughter sprinkled around the room from spectators and the rope duo alike.

 

“You look like you’re enjoying this,” the Top said.

 

“So much” said the bottom, straining.

 

The Top adjusted the bottom’s necklace out of her face. “This would bug me a lot” she said, smiling as she did. She giggled and leaned back, admiring her work and the bottom whose body and mind made it all possible.

 

—

 

This is their life. The language they use to connect with each other, with themselves. Running towards discomfort. Confronting it. Inviting it in. Playing with the pleasure and torment it can bring.

 

Some say the only thing guaranteed in life is suffering. The experience of pain. Pleasure, happiness, and joy cannot be guaranteed. But pain will inevitably come. And yet we run from it at every turn.

 

Except when we don’t.

 

—

 

Another room. Another pair. Screams and moans of agony. Suffering. Less joy. Less play. Gentle intensity.

 

The bottom was gently lowered to the ground still bound hand and foot. The Top chuckled, smiling at them.

 

 

I walked back to the other room .

 

“Oh fuck, that one got me right in the eye” laughed the bottom, still hanging midair.

 

“Sorry” laughed the Top as she worked to untie some of the up lines.

 

She locked off the lines slightly lower and moved her knee on the bottom’s waist as if she were about to jump on. “Oh don’t you fucking dare!” the bottom exclaimed as the Top laughed and pranced away. She continued to lower her little by little; tying off the up lines each time. Teasing her with the ground. Lower and lower, but still never completely touching the ground. Never quite released. Until finally, she lay face down on the floor with only her ankle tethered overhead.

 

I heard another devilish giggle as the line was pulled tight, and the ankle flew high into the air!

Reflecting on my motivation

 

I received a comment on one of my previous writings calling into question my desire to come up with emotionally impactful scenes within my skill set, well at least the way I was going about it.

 

“You’re writing that you “have (!) to come up with a few (!) scenes that will be emotionally transformative (!!), physically impactful (!), not awkward, and within my skillset”. (I’ve marked concerning bits.) All at once, dear? I’d say that it actually is too hard. Haven’t you considered focusing on the last two instead? Philosophically speaking, I believe that aiming for emotionally transforming scenes isn’t… effective? To my mind, such experience appears when you don’t think of it, but when both your partner and you are just having joy. Doesn’t it?”

 

While there was a touch of sarcasm, on my part, surrounding that original goal, I can’t lie. There is a fair bit of truth there.

 

I do put a lot of pressure on myself to chase perfection, or at least I set that as my marker of success. The closer I can get to my own idea of perfection, the better I must be. Right?

 

To be honest, I’ve been struggling lately. For a few months actually. Struggling with showing up for myself. Struggling with connecting with others. I’ve felt distant and isolated and unsafe even when I’m surrounded by those I love. I don’t think I’m the only one feeling this way right now.

 

This comment on my post called into question my pursuit of emotional transcendence through rope. Those moments, they said, tend to happen when they aren’t being chased. They happen when you just show up. When you’re present. When you’re meeting yourself where you are, and extending the same grace to your partner.

 

And they’re right.

 

Maybe that’s the new goal. To show up. To spend quality time. Didn’t I say something like that in a previous entry? To spend quality time? That seems more reasonable.

 

Cutting room floor:

• I bottomed for a Gote from the host. Sunny rope space moved up from my arms into my head. Similar to my vasovagal fainting spell.
• Jute moves fast, like a sports car
• Muscle memory – your fingers know the technique so your mind can focus on the moment, on your partner. That is where there is magic
• Emotional rope – we are constantly chasing the ability to surrender into the moment. To focus more on the person in the rope than the rope itself – quote shared by one of the attendees that was featured in an article from a rope studio

This writing is part of a series called “Diary of a Baby Rope Top” by Kajira Blue, the rest of which can be found at TheDuchy.com/blogs.

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