When I first encountered rope bondage, it was through pictures I saw on-line. It spoke to me right away and I went and looked for sites where to learn more and see more. It took a few years, during which I bought rope, tried it on, had some tied it on and even pictures taken until, eventually, I landed in the rope world and had the fortune to experience shibari/kimbaku by a passionate apprentice nawashi at first. And now also the rope of many famous nawashi.
The longing I had felt since the first time I saw a picture just took a life of its own and it was love at first tie. What I had glimpsed through my previous experiences became a blinding light and a roaring sound that filled my mind and my soul.
When the rope was on, I now realize, it was easy to confuse what the rope would be whispering to me with what the rigger would be doing to me. And in that confusion, it didn't really matter whether I knew the rigger or had a connection with him/her: in the cacophonous noise of my mind, the indecipherable whisper of the rope would be enough to work its magic.

But alas, as any illusion, it did not survive the test of time.

Now that I've learned to recognize the voice of the rope, and decipher its whispers, I can hear that, when the connection with the rigger is not there (whether on purpose, as it is just an utilitarian tie, or not), the rope is sad.

And the magic, even though it is still there, is sad too.

How much longer will sad rope be better than no rope?

Authors: rida

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