I remember my first time being tied pretty clearly, because it was awesome. It was at a Munch, and there was a stage at one end of the pub, where a guy was tying up anyone who wanted to be tied. I watched for quite a while before volunteering to be the next one up, because I enjoyed seeing the rope go on, and the way in which it gradually built into something intricate and complicated. Oh, and the expressions on the faces of the bunnies made me super curious as to what it was like; they all looked like they were having a religious experience.
It was even more fun watching the rope go on when it was going onto me. It feels like… layers of tightness being put on one after the other. You’re aware of where the rope presses against your skin, because whenever another rope moves against it you can feel it vibrating. And the restriction of it is just lovely. You start out loose and free, able to move however you want – then slowly, line by line, that freedom is taken away from you.
So I enjoyed being tied, and I found it wonderfully relaxing. It was my reaction afterwards though that really surprised me. After the rope came off I was so relaxed and light, it felt like I’d just put down a really heavy backpack. And I was kind of floaty too – it was a bit like being high. I was in this amazing mood where everything was funny and I was kind of dazed and a bit dopey. My friends couldn’t believe I’d gotten high off being tied up. They laughed at me, but it’s cheaper than grass however you look at it.
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