(Un)bound and flying – POV, shibari/kinbaku, sensory deprivation

The rope is soft. Well-oiled. It snakes over your skin delicately, the tails whipping ever so gently to thread through the bight and form the next knot.

Please keep in mind that if I’m cruel, it’s only because you asked for it. You *did* ask for it. We talked about this. It was *your* idea, even.

You begged and pleaded with me to play with rope. To see what kind of pretty pain we could create. Just for you. You wanted this.

What could I do but oblige? You looked so good on your knees. The way your eyes got so big when you said you had an idea. That we didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to. That it was entirely my call.

But you had an idea.

*Tell me.*

You wanted to fly.

***

First, the blindfold. Not to dull, but to heighten your senses. *If you can’t see me, how do you know I’m there?*

The lines weave together, my arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to form the chest harness. Back and forth, the ropes intertwine, latching onto each other, becoming stronger and stronger. I feed another thread into the creation, leading it into the rig.

You stay still.

The beat of your heart, the sound of your breath, the rush of adrenaline as you focus on the rope slipping around your wrists, binding them together behind your back. You can feel the heat from my body radiate against your skin, my gaze on you, entirely focused on the placement of each knot.

Your breathing deepens. You’re a part of this now. You’re getting what you asked for. *Is that so bad? Would you like it to be worse?*

You look around lost when you no longer feel me directly behind you. You relax when you feel the ropes reassure against your legs, building up a structure to keep your hips stable.

I can feel your pulse when I loop the cords around your ankle. It’s racing. Your blood is hot, just beneath the fragile surface.

You’re not even flying yet. But you’re present.

You gasp when I pull your ankle tight to your thigh, leaving you to hover on one leg. You’re supported by the ropes around your chest and hips– *I wouldn’t leave you completely helpless, would I?*

I bind your leg tightly, massaging the exposed skin and pressing hard between the ropes, causing you to yelp. *This is what you asked for, isn’t it?*

You’re precarious. Leaning into the ropes that hold you up. When I pull the futo up into the air, you twitch as you struggle to stay balanced on your tip toes. *Can you hear me smiling? You’re doing* so *good.*

I hook a finger into the back of your hip harness, pulling you up higher and making you sway. Your loose leg struggles to find solid footing. It’s adorable. I thread the harness into the rig, then leverage your weight to begin the sequence.

You’re flying.

Your loose leg dangles mere centimeters above the floor –*not to worry, we’ll soon take care of that–* but you can’t tell.

To you it’s all sky. You fit into the ropes like you were made for them. Your weight distributed evenly– the strands holding you, supporting you, loving you, pressing back into your flesh. They kiss you with sensation. Each thread creates patterns on your skin. Places you’ve been. Things you’ve done. People you’ve met.

All the ways you’ve existed in this universe. You exist out of time.

*You exist?*

The ropes bind your other ankle to thigh, trussing you in place. You hover weightless and transcendent.

You feel the pressure start to shift, start to change. The line holding your chest begins to loosen, allowing you to slowly descend. Moving through space.

The dimensions pass you by as the weight transfers to your thighs, the pressure and pain increasing. Your awareness increasing.

*You’re here.*

*Where is here?*

*Does it matter?*

The lines go taut. You’re hanging facedown, suspended in time, in space, in a reality of our co-creation. The blood rushes to your head. You’ll only be here a second, maybe two. It feels like eternity. You feel hot and dizzy. Your face grows redder and redder.

When it’s time, I slowly raise your chest back up. I pull the cord on one leg and release the other, allowing you to hang sideways, catching your breath.

You fly in space, dangling above the precipice. Unsure how far below the bottom is. You rest easy in these ropes, knowing that you are safe. That this is your realm to explore. Your mental space to expand, to create, to delight in.

You relax into the black.

***

My hands interrupt your reverie. It’s time to come down. Slowly, I ease you to the floor.

*As above, so below.*

*What goes up must come down.*

The high follows you. The ropes leave your skin, but their imprints stay. Marks to remember your time by. The knots loosen and the blood returns.

You make a face.

Watch the beautiful pain as your body tells you it’s here. You exist. You have matter. You matter.

In rope, you exist outside of time, the void claims you as its own. You dance with nothingness, with infinity.

You are darkness, you are light. You create. You feel.

*You exist.*

***

A gift for a treasured friend.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/hu2q6i/unbound_and_flying_pov_shibarikinbaku_sensory