A Love Letter to Rope

So my last post might actually be a lie. I still love needles - in fact, I had another wonderful piercing date this weekend with two lovely ladies. But saying I'm ever "all about" anything except rope is a big fat lie.

I am all about rope (hence my nom de plume). Even when I'm hugely interested in other things, there is always rope. Hemp, for preference. I love the sweet smell, the texture, the slight roughness, the barber-pole compression marks. I love the sound of coils dropping to the floor, and the vibration of hands sliding along its taut length. I love running it through my hands before wrapping it around someone, and I love feeling it slide across my skin when I'm being bound. I love being restrained, but just as much, I love wearing rope on my body. I love the high I get from it, which now starts with the first breath. I am as happy hanging from the ceiling by 150 feet of hemp as anywhere I've ever been. Discovering rope bondage felt like coming home.

An aside about some specific rope: the 4-strand German hemp Monk sells. It's pricey, but this stuff is like 6mm strands of heaven. It's even softer than standard conditioned hemp, smooth to the touch, and has its own distinct smell. I have a few short pieces myself, but my darling partner has a full kit, which is kept in an airtight container at the moment. Opening that box is like lying in freshly-mown hay. The smell floods me with memories of childhood, of county fairs and baby animals, of fields in the sun. I didn't grow up on a farm, but close enough to rural that these are all happy memories. I could bury my face in that pile of rope for hours.

So the point is that almost everything I do, as a bottom or as a top, is filtered through rope. Before I pierced that beautiful girl this weekend, I tied her up, then tied her up some more. (Then we beat on her and covered her with clothespins, but that's another story.) I'm gradually collecting my own set of toppy toys, but they all have to fit around the rope in my toy bag. I like a bunch of other BDSM play and paraphenalia, but I don't think I've ever had a date with Max in which he did some other kind of play and didn't tie me up too.

Rope is my anti-drug.