What I Learned Being Tied Up In Rope (A Story Told Elsewhere)

(NOTE: Based on time elapsed since the posting of this entry, the BS-o-meter calculates this is 6.03% likely to be something that Ferrett now regrets.)

So yesterday, I talked about how sometimes, I’m scared to post intimate things on this blog.  The reason I post such raw revelations is because I know it helps other people, when I express these intimate emotions.  Whenever I write about depression, or polyamory, or relationships in general, I get an email from someone who’s glad I spoke for them, or articulated some sentiment they hadn’t been able to nail down.
So sometimes I go, “Okay, I’ll do this because I think this is something other people need to know.”
I got tied up in rope this weekend, and learned an important lesson about kink, sexuality, and emotion… and I’m not quite willing to post that here, on my “official” blog, because it involves some complex reactions that I’m not sure everyone will get.  Gini read the piece, thought it was beautiful, but advised me not to post it here.
But I did post it over on FetLife, the Facebook for Kinksters, and if you’re at all interested in heavy play and the intense effects it can have on someone, I’d advise you to go over and read it.  Yes, FetLife requires you to register (or get a BugMeNot account), but really, given the high-wire act that I try to strike between protecting the aspects of my life that I need to be private and sharing lessons with y’all, that’s the best compromise I can get.
The inevitable excerpt:

She was beautiful, and I was nearly naked, and she had the rope.
“Sit down,” she said, biting her lip as she sized my body up, figuring out how best to restrain me. Then she shook her long hair and snapped her fingers, reaching for her iPod. “I’ve wanted to hear this song all day,” she told me. “And I want something on when I work.”
She put on Daft Punk’s latest album. The one with “Get Lucky,” that eternal club anthem. And I knew – knew – what was about to happen here, in this hotel room, with the beautiful girl and the nearly-naked me and this song about to exhort us both to get lucky, we’re up all night to get lucky, we’re up all night to get lucky.
But it wasn’t what you think it was.

 

2 Comments

  1. Eric
    Aug 20, 2014

    Hi ferret. I made an account just so I could read your story and it was a really beautiful one. Perhaps it’s just me but I didn’t saw anything so risky about your post that it couldn’t be said in this blog and I think that piece belongs here just as much as it belongs there. Every time you blog about her my heart sinks a little, I hope you’re doing better now, cheers.

  2. Ali M
    Aug 21, 2014

    I’m glad you put a link to it – it was beautifully written and I’m so sorry you have that to mourn.

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