Sometimes, if i’m very still  and if i let my mind slip back, back, back in time, sometimes

i can still feel the rope, soft, cotton rope, snaking over my skin as he wrapped me,

like a package, a parcel, tied me up.


Shibari, like a whisper,the rope between my legs, the knot right there – yes, there, laying

on my clit, so when i moved – it rubbed – exquisite discomfort.  The rope snug enough that

when he unwound me, the imprint lingered on my skin.

i remember, even though it seems so far away, even like it happened to someone else, but

my skin remembers.



12 thoughts on “Rope

  1. Also, it occurs to me that you might really enjoy something that Raven K’s boy, joshua, makes. It is slave beads, laid out like the rosary, with meditations and prayers for slavery that are meditative in nature. i think this could be a very natural thing, and a bit subversive to Catholicism at the same time. Naughty but not bad. Still Comforting.

    The thing i liked best about the spoken penance and litany was the idea that through thousands of years, my Italian Ancestors said the same prayers. And that the focus of all of us was the same, building power for the energy raised in each of us, in every room, every realm. Somehow, the idea of us slaves, kneeling on floor pillows gathering strength from saying the same prayers together fills me with calm. Peace. There are days that i send warmth to you, on days that blesses me with warmth and love in return. ❤

    (wandering off to find the beads)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.