This response might not make sense haha.Īnyways, as much as duct tape is my first bondage love and will remain in my kinky heart, I know for a fact that it is rope that lies in my future.Tegaderm Tape, Stress ball, Narrow PVC Tape Story Rebecca is captured and tied up sitting on a chair when her captor comes in. I kinda get carried away playing with words sometimes. Even with my primary interest in bondage almost preceding my attraction to the woman herself, I've always found the feminine form beautiful and shibari is the perfect combination of those things, weaving earthbound human skin into the constricting abstract of bondage manifesting as rope, arresting her shape into a living piece of art. The possibilities honestly seem endless, or as far as the rigger is willing to take them to his/her creative limits. It can be comfortable like a hug, it can put someone in an exciting, maybe even painful predicament, it can completely prevent movement making the sub completely helpless, or it can simply be aesthetic dress and decoration of a body and more. There is so much beauty in the versatility of rope to twist and shape and contract the human body in a multitude of positions. I have a whole new opinion on rope after looking more at shibari and artistic photographic set-ups with people tied up in this style, especially nude. That has definitely changed in recent times. As far as aesthetics go, I didn't perceive much beauty to it beyond that it facilitated bondage. Rope was also somewhat in mind but it almost seemed too practical and rudimentary. I always initially was attracted to other classic methods of bondage like with zip ties and handcuffs and blindfolds. That being said, my tastes though specific, weren't limited. Is that not what our sexualities ultimately lead us to? A chosen place or a person, in whom or with whom we feel safe and welcomed into their sanctuary? It could make me feel safe from the wide perilous world in the helplessness it offered. However, it seemed instead that my curiosity and unexplainable attraction to it and everything it implied somehow developed that fear into an almost binding vocation to bondage. In a huge, awe-inspiring world as a youngster where the sky felt like the limit, duct tape was a powerful antithetic symbol to that, that could stop even my infinite potential dead in its tracks. And its unique character along with its serious potential to bind and to silence without a second thought for how I felt or what I wanted to say excited me greatly. ![]() I recognized its raw capability as an adhesive, as a raw binding agent. ![]() When the opportunity arised, it occupied all of my youthful curiosity: the gluey smell of it, the unforgiving, even brutal stickiness and its feeling on my finger tips, on my skin, and over my mouth, and the unique sound of ripping it from its seemingly infinite core or a piece off its tail. ![]() I suppose it sort of had an outlandish appeal. That's somewhat evidenced by my first interest and curiosities leading to searching terms like "duct tape gagged" or "duct tape tied" on the internet, so I really considered myself (I still do) having some sort of fetish for duct tape bondage. If you asked me which do I like better as a concept, I'm somewhat partial to duct tape.Īs much as I can remember my first TUG or bondage experiences were with duct tape.
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