Why I Love…Bondage
God! Even the word turns me on!
I suppose the word ‘bondage’ is a bit old fashioned, really. There are other terms that people use: tying, rigging, playing with rope. But bondage... “Bondage” is full of transgressive, erotic import. It's a sultry bitch of a word. I adore it.
I've read stories from other kinksters about their early experiences of seeing pictures of princesses in fairy tale books tied to a post and experiencing a flutter of nascent longing. I never had that. I never yearned to be contained. Never imagined the pull of the ropes on my limbs.
And never, absolutely never, came close to imagining the insane, topsy turvy truth: that I can be at my most free when I am tied up. Free to feel. Free to experience myself within myself.
The rope defines the outer edges of me, and within the rope I am myself, in purest form, albeit separated somehow from everything that is around me. Calm. Centered.
But that's not all. In my journey so far I have discovered how many different emotional states can be evoked through bondage, and the way that it sets me outside of time.
It can posit my vulnerability and dare me to confront it.
It can insist upon what 'open' truly means.
It can push me to resistance.
It can draw out my power.
There are lots of beautiful social media posts of carefully crafted, gorgeously patterned body weaves with rope. They are quite lovely, but not what I think of when I think of bondage. Bondage may use quite minimal rope, and personally, I often prefer to be blindfolded. So the colour- as much as I love it- is unimportant in those moments. What is important is the feeling, the pull, the challenge, the emotional direction. And of course, the eroticism which can flow from that, be it humble and open, or darkly primal.
I love bondage because when I am bound I am at my most free.
About the Author: Serenedipity was 57 years old when she discovered the joys of erotic bondage. She continues to look forward, and up, but has never once looked back.