Healing Shibari

Part 1 of ‘Story of many titles’, a little experiment of mine in writing a deeper kind of erotica and romance. Enjoy and feel free to leave your comments below. They really help me improve. 🙂

“Little toy, how does it feel to be here, on a balcony, exposed for everyone to see? Your soft skin reacting to the chill of the wind before the storm, sending shivers down your spine… vulnerable and open, with only your breasts proudly on display for my eyes. 

You tremble when they caress your beautiful curves, your hands craving to cover yourself up away from my view. What makes you insecure, little toy? What makes you want for me to touch you, to do anything to you, hoping that mere actions can hide your body from my scrutiny? 

I will not touch you. I will only watch you, delighting in the way your breath comes in soft, controlled pants, how your body aches to move, how words of self-deprecating madness swirl in your head… 

How I know it? You are showing it to me… with your eyes, the way you carry yourself when you come to me, like a lion turned lamb on the judgement day from the shame of not being good enough. You show it to me when you crave to apologise for your very existence, for every inch of space you take. 

Right in this moment, when you are debating between opening up and running away in some corner of your mind and heart, where I cannot reach you, you know what will heal you. You know it, because it scares you, because you see that I see beneath your masks without your will to unveil. I can’t really help myself doing something that comes naturally to both of us and that is exactly what scares you: that I can see in you what you, yourself can see in others. And it is terrifying to be faced with your own power, for you know that your skills are almost limitless and you wonder what if mine are the same. “

” Please… “

” Please what, my little angel? Yes, exactly. I mean what I say. I know what you are.”

“But how…” I find it unbelievable for him to know my true nature, no matter how much it warms my heart that he does. I have to find out. He seems all the most excited to respond to my partial question as he continues in a soothing tone. 

“When you are relaxed, you let go. You do not hold back your strength and your light. I saw them, your gracious wings of light one day when you were dancing in the lounge room, thinking nobody is watching. You were so beautiful in that moment, so exquisite, with your candor and love shining from within. I saw them and I realised that you had seen me, too.”

He comes near me, circling my half naked form, never once touching, yet I can still feel him, his presence caressing me more intimately than any physical touch could. 

“Too bad you do not see yourself…” he whispered deeply, his hot breath tingling the sensitive skin on the back of my neck. It felt amazing in contrast with the chilly air that bit at my nipples. “Your pain and fear go deep, my little angel. You do not give them voice. Instead, you keep them hidden on your body, on your luscious hips… your tense back… do not, for a second, think that I am anything but deeply impressed by what I see now. Not for a second will I let your mind lie to you, retelling you those vicious comments. I know you think your ass looks like that of an old, frumpy lady. I know that you almost hate the softness of your belly and you keep it sucked in tight every time I only as much as cast a look at it.” 

Those words sound like venom on his lips. They taste bitter and vile, almost showing me how much they hurt, how much more scared of hearing them being uttered to me that I tell them to myself constantly only to know that I am safe when others might do it, for I am already used to them. Maybe it is an excuse and an apology to the world for existing. He is right in every word he says and I am trembling with both joy and pure fear of what might happen from here on.

“You stripped for me when I asked you to” his words, spoken softly, but definitive, pull me out of my reverie. “You lay down your clothes only to build up walls in their stead. I can feel your tension, the struggle you go through, not knowing what I want, for I do not let you get lost in a repetitive choreography of pleasing me. I will alleviate some of that worry which plagues your mind by telling you now that you are not allowed to touch me for my pleasure. Not tonight. I do not allow you to lose yourself in pleasing my senses only because you want to hide and distract me. Nothing you will do to seduce me will have the desired outcome.”

His words tear me down. I can feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, but I do not let them fall. I will not be weak. I will not let this affect me.

Just as the thought crosses my mind, he takes my hand in his and presses it on his cock. I can feel him through his pants, pulsating with want, hard as a rock. I am taken aback, my mind struggling to understand. 

“Do not think that I said those things out of lack of desire. Your bravery, your presence does this to me.” His voice is soft, full of emotion as he whispers in my ear. “Still, I do think the time has come for you to see yourself for what you truly are. A mirror has been set in our lounge. Go there and kneel in front of it on the seiza bench. Now.”

His tone leaves no room for negotiation. I take a deep breath and walk slowly inside, the warmth enveloping me. I didn’t even realise how cold it had gotten outside. My body quickly adjusts to the change in temperature as I approach the lounge room with slow steps, almost wishing for the ground to swallow me before I set foot in that place. Too bad I am already there, face to face with the spot of my future undoing. Deep down I know how much I crave this to happen, how much I wished it into being, yet now I am fighting myself for the courage to kneel and gaze at my reflection in the mirror.

To calm my thoughts, I start a ritual, one that I have never employed before, but the familiarity of the idea helps my mind focus. With gentle movements, I discard my pants along with my underwear, neatly folding and placing them down on the couch. My hair follows as I pull out the pins holding it up, letting the burgundy tresses caress my shoulders. It feels sensual, yet empowering, like putting on a piece of armour for the battle to come.

He had already prepared the room, muted light coming from candles placed all over, jasmine emanating from the fragrant incense burning in the brass bowls. Sometimes I feel like he knows me better than I know myself, acknowledging all the little things that give my life meaning. 

With flowing steps I approach the seiza bench and kneel, resting my naked skin on top of the soft leather of the sit. Next to the mirror I notice a few lengths of rope, the same rope I used to employ on my play partners, yet never had someone use it on me. I guess being afraid of how my body will like tied up, more or less like a stuffed sausage instead of a tender, graceful woman took its toll on my love for shibari. 

From the corner if my eye I catch a glimpse of my body in the mirror. At first, it pulls me in. Still, I am too frightened to really look, opting for closing my eyes and basking in the calm that this setting exudes instead. 

Every breath I take relaxes me deeper, letting all the tension leave the tensed muscles. My wings open of their own accord, almost secretly hoping that he can see me for how I really am, for my true nature, for until now nobody actually gazed upon this form of mine. 

When I reopen my eyes I see his reflection behind me, a soft smile playing on his lips, laced with wonder. 

“You really are exquisite.” A. says as he kneels behind me, his big form towering over me even in this position. Another new think for me, taking into consideration how big I actually feel like. 

Suddenly, his hand wraps around my throat, bringing my back almost flat against his chest. At this point, as I am struggling to keep my calm and enjoy the sensation while still controlling my abs to keep everything nice and tight, all thoughts leave me as he prompts me to look in his eyes. 

“Don’t you dare hide.” he growls low, the dark long hair strands brushing his shoulders. They look as if they are carved out of stone, the same as every other part of him, something that adds to the imbalance between us. I crave him, constantly, but how can he reciprocate when most of the time I am but a costume of polished, trained looks. If he sees the real me, the real way my body looks, every fold and bump, he will leave. My heart breaks at the thought for I really came to love him, to feel safe with him even when I don’t feel safe with myself. 

His eyes watch my ever-changing expression, reading me, only for his fingers to tighten and his other hand to land painfully on my upper thigh, startling me. 

“I will make you suffer so your vicious words will hold no power anymore. I will break you in a million pieces and build you back up. In my actions you will see your deepest fears coming to life and I will have a front row seat as you struggle with yourself, with pain and pleasure, with your own mind. You will see yourself throughout everything that I do to you and you will be forced to face your truth. Here there are no more walls, no more hiding. Not for a second are you to think about pleasuring me. I will not be your escape from self now or in the future. The time has finally come for you to face this pain you carry around and know this, my little angel: at the end of this you will be free and I will be here to guide you through it all. Will you do this with me?”

His words hit close to home, closer than I wanted. So much so that I can do nothing but agree. This is all too much. I want it to end once and for all. I feel myself opening up, ready to receive what he has planned for me. 

My lips open as my eyes fixate on his in the mirror. “Take me further than you and I think it’s possible and do not hold back. No matter what I say or do, no matter how much I beg you to stop, don’t listen to me. I need this. I need to break. Please, take me and rip me apart.” 

Upon hearing my words, he gently nods in agreement, his demeanour changing ever so slightly, rougher, deeper in a spiritual way that lets me know it all begins now. 

“Look at yourself.” he orders and I follow, fighting my desire to hide away, to scream for him to stop with the nonsense. Every reaction of my mind seems to be amplified and it surprises me. I have no choice. 

“Relax your abdomen right this second.” I can’t do it. I can’t show him. “I don’t enjoy repeating myself, angel. Now!” he says as his fingers dig into the soft flesh on my thigh. The pain makes it hard to focus. Still, I stand my ground, breathing at the top of my lungs.

“I see you choose the hard way to do this. It is perfectly fine with me, but know this: you will regret it. Deep down I wanted your first time being tied up by me to be a reward. Now I see that it will become a means to an end and by your choice alone.” His calm troubles me the most, the detachment that hides the hurt I am causing him by hiding still, but I can’t bring myself to cave, to relax, as if my body resists the very notion. 

Patiently, I wait as he retrieves the rope and a couple short pieces of bamboo, along with kobo sticks. A shivers runs down my spine. I am aware of how much sensation those innocent looking implements can cause, both pleasant and devilishly painful. I have used them on others many times and knows it. He has seen me tie people up before, torturing them with the same things I craved to have used on me, but never really letting others see me like that, vulnerable and unable to control my reactions. 

Kneeling, he motions for me to sit up and and moves the bench out of the way. My knees hurt from being in the same position for this long and I am embarrassed by it. Submissives should be able to kneel for long periods of time. That is what I feel… 

“They hurt, don’t they? You think the pain is caused by your weight, don’t you?” He says as he caresses the muscles in my legs, helping the blood flow again. His ministrations make me forget my predicament for a while, as a soft whimper leaves my lips, eyes closing of their own accord. 

A sharp pain on my nipples wakes me from the pleasure induced slumber, only for a piece of bamboo to sneak its way into my mouth, acting as a gag. He ties it tightly behind my head, admiring his handy work. Saliva slowly starts to drip down my chin and I lower my head in embarrassment. His hand sneaks into my hair and pulls back, forcing me to watch. 

“Look at you. See how filthy you look with spit dripping down your chin, unable to speak, only feel. Mmm… Your pussy is soaking wet. You are enjoying this and you hate yourself for it. You hate the craving to lose control. You hate that you want to beg for it, to be taken, used, tied up and at my mercy. I know that, for some reason, you trust me and crave for me to do this to you, not anybody else. You feel that I am as strong as you are, maybe more so and that makes you desperate to let go. Let your body relax under my hands. Let me see you and see just how beautiful you really are when you surrender.”

While he talked, I saw the way he coiled a piece of rope around my waist. I can feel it tightening, biting into my skin. I want to scream, but I refrain. The force of his pull makes it hurt so good, but when I see myself in the mirror I want to cry. 

My belly is relaxed now, for it is physically impossible for me to keep it tense anymore if I want to avoid any real damage. He knows that and takes full advantage of it as another piece of rope goes under me, parting just before reaching my pussy lips and going up between my ass cheeks to a point at the back where he tightens it again, just enough to make my stomach show proudly, with the thin piece of rope down the middle. My pussy is exposed and I now shiver with both anticipation and shame. 

“Look how beautifully your flesh moulds under my hands.” he says while torturing the side of my hips, roughly taking it into his hands. “I know you don’t want to be seen like this. Exposed, facing your deepest fear, the fear of your own body. You might want to see it as disgusting, fat, flabby, wobbly, a mass of flesh, sore to the eye, but what you fail to see is the softness that lets itself be moulded by harshness, the curves that embrace the rope and give it life.”

His hands now caress my tummy, my waist, letting the warmth of his skin to sink into me, loving every inch while whispering in my ear.

“I will make you fly. I will show you just how much beauty, grace and strength you have. So not fear yourself. Let go in my arms. Let yourself just feel.”

There is no roughness in his voice, no reprimand, only love and care, with an undertone of desire. I can take pain. I can take roughness, cynicism and tough touches, but his gentle tone chips at my walls. Tears threaten to appear as I let myself relax in his embrace, fully, not caring about what I look like leaning against his chest. My belly is protruding from between the ropes, thighs supporting my weight and letting waves of bumps on show for his eyes. 

His hot body fills me with warmth, letting me bask in this feeling while his fingers work on untying the gag and putting it aside, only for his lips to kiss me so deeply, full of passion and fire. I taste desire and want, yet I do not move. Parting away, he picks up another piece of rope and helps me stand up, letting my body get used to the upright position. 

Silently, as if to not disturb the bubble of Eden we fell into, he takes me to the center of the room under the suspension point he installed a few months ago. I have an idea of what he might do to me, yet the frightening feeling returns as I see our reflection in the mirror.

Being tied up on the floor in one thing. I can still control my body a bit, but in the air, all that goes away in seconds. I do not have the training for it, to make it graceful. 

He feels my uncertainty and takes my head in his hands, forcing me to look at him. 

“You can do this. I will not stop and you will enjoy it. It can be scary to see yourself for the first time, but let it come to you. Let the emotions fill you and live through them. Do not try to be strong. Let go, for the more you fight, the more you will suffer in your mind. Let your body experience what it craves, my angel.”

I barely nod my head. I know he is right. I remember telling the same things to my play partners beck in the days. 

He starts softly touching my skin, kneading the tense muscles, preparing me, letting me get used to the feeling of his fingers all over… down my breasts… to my back… As I calm down, breathing evenly, even getting turned on by his ministrations, he roughly takes my arms, bending them behind my back in strappado. The ache of the rope lines digging into my skin liberates my overactive mind. Every line added, every touch brings a sense of balance I haven’t felt in years. When he is finished, a sharp pain goes up my right arm, from my palm to my elbow, almost making me double over if it weren’t for his arm to hold me by the throat, nestled in between my breasts, holding me upright. 

“Do you like being surprised? Do you like feeling the pain in your body? Seeing on the outside the way your thoughts keep you bound, suffering silently? Speak to me, let it all out. Every second you felt like you were not enough, scared and lonely, let it all out.”

Harsh fingers pinch my nipples, twisting and turning, burying sharp nails into the soft flesh. I gasp, trying to process the painful sensation, to get away from it, but his arm keeps me in place. 

Suddenly, I am left to keep my balance as he disappears from behind me. 

Left alone, my eyes are drawn to the mirror. I take in the image that awaits me there, almost not recognizing myself. My arms bound behind me, pushing my chest out, breasts proudly on display, round and small, perfectly formed. Lower, my waist is hugged by the rope cutting into it, with the fine line of coarse jute disappearing between my legs. It gets harder and harder not to beg for him to stop and take me on his cock, driving me crazy with pleasure… 

Coming back to my reflection, what surprises me the most is how my eyes dance with desire and calm, framed by soft strands, creating a relaxed look on my face. It is as if I found my home in the tight bindings. 

What I see before me is not disgusting, nor graceless. It is feminine, seductive, wild. I am taken aback by how I feel, not even noticing A. returning. 

“It seems you noticed a tiny bit of how I see you, of how the world sees you. How do you find it?” He softly asks while tying a suspension line to the waist ensemble. I try to find the right words, to say them in relation to me, but there is something that stops me. I gaze at the floor, once again embarrassed to look him in the eye. 

“I’ll tell you.” Not a moment later, my whole world stops as a searing paint travels my body, radiating from my midriff. I am fighting it, struggling to take control, but it is too late. I am suspended above the ground, hands tied behind me in a way I can’t even begin to untie alone and my thoughts are in a twist. Tears spring to my eyes and I scream. “Take me down. Stop this game. Please.” My plea falls on deaf ears as he crouches next to my head, softly playing with my hair. 

“Oh, my angel, this is no game. You see, this, right here, this is how you live your life. Struggling for control in the same moments when control hurts you the most. You think the world sees you as weak, but you are the one seeing yourself as such.” I feel like screaming at him, telling him that this is nonsense, but deep down I know he is right. 

The key to stop the pain is solely in my hands. Once I relax and let go, accepting the pain, it will subside. Once I completely surrender, my body will naturally find its balance with my head down and the pain will be insignificant, yet I can’t bring myself to do it. I barely have the strength to speak, but an almost choked “I can’t” leaves my lips. 

The next second, an intense wave of sharp pain hits my inner thigh, bringing a scream of agony out of me. I know he is canning me. At this point, I couldn’t care less which implement he is using. 

“You say you can’t, yet you still have the will to fight it. Holding yourself in control cuts into your skin, tortures your muscles, but you still let it go on.” Another wave of rapid hits comes on my inner thighs. “These are the people you surround yourself with, people you expect to fail you, people that put you down. You chose them. You chose this pain and you are the only one that can stop it, that can transform all this into pleasure.”

Tears almost start pooling in my eyes. His words are so real that they make my chest ache. All the vicious things I have been telling myself, all the lies I believed to be true, feeling them now… This is the real torture. 

For a split second, through the storm in my mind, I notice my reflection in the mirror. It almost brings me to my knees. The scared, almost terrified face, A.’s hard expression as he holds a belt in his hands, ready to strike, but what hurts the most to see is how I am torturing my whole body, how tense I am, how what I have feared the most is happening right now. All the struggle, the ugliness, the pain I refuse to take snap something inside of me and I stop fighting. With a deep breath, my body relaxes completely, my face losing its edge. I just let go, becoming aware of the rope that hugs me tightly like a lover’s embrace, of the way my skin tingles as it relaxes. 

I close my eyes, letting my body dictate the movements, naturally falling into the bonds, legs relaxed, resting against the suspension line. My shoulders release the tension they held and I can almost hear A’s gasp of wonder as I let the calm surround me. Gentle hands caress my hair and I open my eyes to see his inverted face, smiling softly with pride in his eyes. 

“You are amazing, my angel. Look at yourself.” I gently let my head be guided by him to face the mirror, the infamous instrument of my demise and what I see is beyond words. 

For the first time I see myself, bound, but free. My body gracefully handles the ties, lines falling softly, yet hard, holding, not torturing. 

He made me look like angel, for me to finally see. 

I close my eyes, dancing in the ropes now, body flowing freely. I am beyond calm, beyond mere words, just breathing and being, found after years of struggle. 

Somewhere in there, my mind registers the click of a camera, his soft steps approaching, fingers caressing my skin, gently lowering me to the ground and just holding me to him while untying first my waist, gently massaging the brutalised skin. His tender fingers venture lower, starting to build a more and more powerful fire in my pussy. His lips follow the contours of my shoulders, my neck open to his bites and licks as his thumb grazes my opening, tantalizing, but not giving any relief. 

My body starts to wake, my mind taking notice of the seductive scene playing in front of me. I realise that he tangled our legs together in a such a way that I now lay open to out eyes, tender, lustful. 

“Watch us, little angel. See how wanton you look, how seductive your body moves under my hands, knowing you can’t get away, all tied up and held prisoner by pleasure. I can do this…” he says as he pinches my clit hard and I let out a soft scream, not expecting the pain ” and have you begging for more. Your sweet whimpers drive me crazy. So feminine, uncontrolled, like you can’t help yourself but take what I give you.” I know he is smiling. I can hear it in his voice, even with my eyes closed as I try to take in everything he is giving me. 

“You smell so sweet and taste even sweeter, your flesh like nectar. Your every breath feels like light mixed with the deepest lust imaginable. Your skin hiding so much pleasure and promising way more than just sex. You are a goddess… and even a goddess loves pain.”

As he utters the last word, a rain of hard slaps hit my pussy as I try to break free from his assault, only for his legs to part mine more and for the spanking to become rougher and harder. 

Animalistic sounds and tagged breaths leave my lips as the only thing that I can do is take it and get lost. 

“That’s it. Let it out. Let yourself go. Show me who you really are inside. I won’t leave. I am here to see you, to feel you. Trust me and let go.”

And I do. Tears stream down my face, pain becoming pleasure as my thighs tremble, breathing shallow as my insides are flooded with pure ecstasy. Even then his fingers don’t stop, now fucking me relentlessly, touching just the perfect sports, making me lose every sense of self. I am only sensation as his teeth bite into my shoulder, marking me and sending my body soaring once more. All the feelings I have bottled up, all the emotional pain, the harsh words, the fear, the repressed lust flow through my tears in a never stopping cascade of liberation. 

At one point, his fingers gently leave my pussy, his legs letting mine go while my arms are being freed and blood is massaged back into them. I can’t stop crying as A. leaves me there for a few minutes, returning with a fluffy blanket and bottles of fruit juice and water. 

With utmost care, he carries my sobbing form to the couch, wrapping me in the soft fabric while hugging me tightly to him. 

“Drink, my little angel. You need to stay hydrated.” he whispers in my ear and I can hear the tears in the hoarseness of his voice, too. 

I gratefully take the water and drink, my inner turmoil coming to a calm serenity as I look into his eyes and see the emotions clearly displayed there. With shaky hands I touch his cheeks, wiping away the wet marks, silently asking of their cause. 

“Sorrow, joy and pure awe, my angel.” I just witnessed the most beautiful and highest form of art being created in front of me. I could feel your battle, your pain and your strength. I know you could do it, that you could defeat your demons, but I never imagined it being done with so much grace and depth. Thank you for trusting me and letting me guide you.”

Gazing into his eyes, I uttered quietly, still unsure of my voice “You are the only person I trusted to tie me, to make me lose myself and for that, I am the one giving thanks.” I could guess his amazement. I think he wasn’t expecting to be my first. 

In that moment, something deep down shifted in both of us, something almost tangible and we knew that, in this very second, we were open completely to one another. 

Without words, my lips found his, leaving behind everything else while our bodies made love gently until we both fell into a state so far from consciousness that we were infinite.  We are now free, free to be and feel anew. 

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