My [F]irst Time in Ropes

Hello,

So lately I’ve been playing around with writing down some of my stories. I was recently gifted a copy of “50 Shades of Grey,” by a well-meaning friend. Pleasant intentions, but I doubt she has any idea that I’ve out-performed the acts in that book and done them in a more safe, sane, and fun way. Maybe other young women could use a better example as well.

To set the stage, several years back I was finishing up my doctoral work which involved a good deal of travel around the country. Prior to finishing up at one of my test sites and before heading to the next one, I figured: I’m moving to a new city, this is the one time in my life where I might get the chance to try out a completely new identity. I was passingly familiar with BDSM through online stories and I had a bit more of a fascination. I had read just enough to know that it intrigued me; but not enough to know what I was doing. But, I had decided, this was my chance, this was my shot to give it a try.

I posted an ad on the now-defunct Craiglist personals (RIP) looking for someone willing to show me the ropes. The responses were voluminous and often, quite disturbing. I picked a few that seemed promising and chatted with them in advance of my trip.

By the time I settled in my Airbnb in Cleveland, I had really narrowed it down to one gentleman who struck the right combination of experience and reassurance. I was in town for about two hours before he invited me out for drinks. “Nothing has to happen, this is just a chance to get comfortable with one another,” we agreed.

The bar was dim, empty, and comfortable. One of the beers on tap was called “Temperance” and I couldn’t resist the irony, so I had two. He was 6′ tall, with glasses and dark, curly hair. He was of average weight, wearing a polo T-shirt and a pair of denim slacks. We spoke in general: “How is the job? How is the family? Do you like the weather?” I finished my second beer and was wondering when it would be appropriate to call my ride home.

Until he whispered into my ear in a low, breathy tone, “Good girl.”

I blushed, glancing around sheepishly.

*Had anyone heard?*

I thought back to my resolution: This is a new city, I may never be back, who cares? Maybe just one more drink at his place.

***

It was a small, cozy apartment. The kind that is typical of an urban area: just enough space to oneself. I sipped the red wine pensively while eyeing up his bookshelf.

*Both ‘Mein Kampf’ and Sigmund Freud? He’s either well-read or I’m going to get chopped up and put in the freezer.*

“You know,” he started. “We could just give it a shot. Just to see how you like it. It can be as much – or – as little as you’d like.”

“OK. I guess. How do we start?”

“Stand in front of me. Turn and face the mirror and close your eyes.”

I did, feeling more uncertain suddenly.

“So,” he whispered, as he ran his nails up and down my neck. “Do you know about safewords?”

“Is it going to be something silly like ‘Sasquatch?'”

“No, it doesn’t have to be,” he murmured. “I personally prefer the Stoplight system: Green is Good. Yellow means Slow Down. Red means Stop. Try it.”

“Green.”

He started to run his hands under my shirt. He was using his nails to graze along my skin, ever so slightly. The kind of touch that leaves a trail of goosebumps behind it.

“Good girl,” he whispered again. “I usually like to be called ‘Sir.’ If that is something you would be willing to try.”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied.

“You’re a natural already.”

He pulled my shirt off over my head with no resistance from my part. Then, he unbuckled my bra from behind and slipped it off. Again, I felt embarrassed. I blinked my eyes open and stared into the mirror. It was at a height where bodies could be seen, but not faces. I glimpsed myself, now half-nude, breasts hanging in front of me, with my back pressed against this still-clothed man. His hands exploring my body slowly and deliberately. He was still using his nails to stimulate me as he exhaled deep, warm, moist breaths onto my neck. He made his way to my shorts, unbuttoning them and dropping them to the floor with a thud.

“Take off your panties.”

I slid them around my ankles. To my surprise, he pulled his hands away. He stared at my naked form in the mirror with me, admiring me with me.

“Good girl. You’re beautiful,” he exhaled again. “I’d like to try some rope work. Don’t forget the Stoplight, if you need it.”

The next few minutes were a blur of ropes, weaving in and out.

“Hold this. Give me that. Bring your arm back like this.”

Gradually, the harness started to take shape: a pentagram, the tip of the star sliding between my thighs, my breasts propped up by the horizontal lines across my chest. He trailed it down around my legs, wrapping them around my ankles until my legs were secured together. I couldn’t help but admire the look in the mirror, pivoting from side-to-side

“Here, let me help you,” he gripped me in one arm and lowered me, face down onto the bed.

“Have you ever tried ‘Impact play?’ It is any kind of spanking, flogging, whipping, hitting.'”

“No, I haven’t, Sir,” I admitted. “And I don’t think of myself as being one for much pain. It’s just not really my thing.”

And I meant it. The videos and stories of women getting spanked just did not appeal to me when I saw them. I never got the allure and I could never have pictured those sorts of activities ever being enjoyable.

“You might be surprised,” He stated. “Now, just tell me, ‘More, Sir’ if it was too light and ‘Thank you, Sir’ if it was just right.”

He started to tap me, gently, on the butt cheeks with his open hand.

-tap-

“More, Sir.”

-tap-

“More, Sir.”

-tap-

“More, Sir.”

The blows were very light. It was hard to even call them spanking at this point. Sure, they made an impressive sound and He was gradually getting harder, but was this what I was afraid of?

-Tap-

“More, Sir.”

-Tap-

“More, Sir.”

-SMACK-

Wow. That one packed a bit more of a wallop. I could feel a bit of a sting even but to my surprise…

“More, Sir.”

-SMACK-

Even more force, and yet…

“More, Sir.”

Wow. At this point, I was starting to feel my butt cheek start to swell where he had been hitting. Yet, there was a certain peace in it. I’d always been a competitive girl and there was something in me that couldn’t help, but…

“More, Sir.”

-SMACK. SMACK-

Two hard slaps, one to each cheek.

“More, Sir!”

“I can’t hit you any harder with my hand. I told you, I think you like this more than you realize. Do you want to try the paddle?”

“I don’t know, Sir.”

“Why not? Afraid you’ll like this too?”

“Ok, Sir. Let’s try the paddle.”

We started again. This time with the leather paddle striking both of my cheeks at once. He started the same way, with small, gentle taps and working up to bigger and bigger hits. He would alternate too: left cheek, right cheek, thighs.

-SMACK-

“Thank you, Sir”

With each smack, the pain would radiate down my legs and would be near-unbearable, but only for a second. Then it would fade and leave me with a vaguely free sense.

-SMACK-

“Thank you, Sir.”

At this point, though, the strength of the paddling was so strong that the episodes of intense pain were lasting longer and longer. Three seconds this time.

-SMACK-

“Fuuuu….. Thank you, Sir.” I grimace.

I don’t know why I feel so compelled to try to outcompete myself, but I feel as if I’m on a roll; how can I stop now?

He smirks, “I’m gonna give you one just a bit harder than that last one. Really test your limits, ok?”

He rubs the paddle against my cheeks. Lifts it. Then puts it back down. Then lifts it again. It is both a tease and a soothing massage. The suspense… waiting for that other shoe to drop, that is truly the torture.

Then I hear the *thwip* of the paddle.

-SMACK-

“MMmph… fuck,” I grimace out from my closed lips. “Thank you, Sir.”

-SMACK-

A second hit at that same intense speed. I feel my eyes start to water.

“Yellow, Sir.”

“I’m sorry, my good girl. You did great. I had a feeling you could handle it. It seems like you might be into pain,” he snickers.

He scoops some body lotion into his hand and rubs it against my butt, against the welts which are now forming on my skin. It is cool and refreshing as he rubs it deep, massaging away the inflammation.

I hear the front door opening.

“Oh, damn. Peri is home.” Sir says. “He was supposed to work until midnight. I’ll let him know not to bother us.”

“No, Sir.” I reconsider. “It’s fine. This is supposed to be my month to explore. Why not give it a shot then?”

***

Peri stands at 6’2″, looks to be in his mid-30s. He has a lean, muscular build. His hair is cropped short. He is also entirely shirtless with a crop of brown chest hair.

Still bound in ropes, I manage to wriggle-worm my way to the side of the bed.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to untie you?” Sirs asks.

“Nah. I got this.”

I roll to my side. With my hands still tied behind me, I manage to extend one to Peri.

“Hey, I’m Maron. I’m… um… new in town, as of a few hours ago.”

I laid on the side of the bed, world upside down as Peri rubbed his coarse hands up and down my belly along my ribs. By this point, any shame I’d had had evaporated entirely and I stretched out to enjoy the massage.

Shortly after, Sir untied me. We spent the rest of the night discussing the local sites to see in town as well as where to get some decent food to eat.

This is, of course, just the start of my little erotic enterprises.

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Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/aybcz8/my_first_time_in_ropes