Why Would a Primal Daddy Dom Bottom In Rope?
To understand my interest in rope, you have to understand a few of my fantasies and the exhibitionist, worshipful, and consensual non-consent topics they build upon.
I have fantasies in my mind about women overwhelming me, forcing me to do things for them. Women holding me down and fucking me cowgirl, women shoving my face into a delicious ass and pussy with assistants controlling my arms and shoulders. Women exposing and relishing the sight of my cock and chest and physique. Women choosing to use me to satisfy their sexual lust without my consent, with me being seen as a demi-god-like figure worthy of worship.
Hey, a guy can dream.
I thought these things would always just be fantasy, because increasing partners increases all kinds of risks, and finding others that really understood this core primal lust and craving and frenzy that I release into is hard. I am also large, strong, and can be charming and persuasive when I wish. I carry power.
Some of this power is optional to access (training, education, skills I’ve picked up, etc.), but some of the power I cannot turn off. I’m nearly three hundred pounds of man with the musculature to match. Gravity, alone, is a bitch.
But then I found my partner and as we grew closer I learned that we have many of these same slutty, primal, power exchanging ideas. And I realized it might just work.
She’s my babygirl, but she’s also my dragon.
A rope-slinging, toppy dragon.
Rope is the key to those fantasies for me. Rope does the job of five women. It restrains me, holds me, contains my strength and laughs in my face as my dragon spits on me and slaps me and taunts me with her sex. It gives her an advantage as she plays with toppy energy, in scenes, as we always do.
Perhaps my dragon will use her rope to rile me up into a pheromone-drunk frenzy that escapes later to fuck with beastly vigor. Perhaps she’ll deny me and just bring me stillness for a time with sensory deprivation, light sadism, and her comforting touch. Perhaps she’ll suspend me, jump on top, and ride me like the little adventurer she is, off on a journey.
This is why I bottom to her in rope.
I never feel submissive in rope, and I don’t think it’s something I will feel or I’m searching for. I still very much feel dominant energy, even when fully tied and suspended and at my babygirl’s whims.
Rope makes me feel like a big papa bear that she’s just clambering all over. It pulls on Daddy strings. It gives me a lot of satisfaction and pride in just being with her and watching her explore and be passionate.
I speak on all this because I’ve often enough seen identity crises on what a dominant “shouldn’t/can’t do.”
Fuck that.
I still feel the primal fight, the wrestle, the vying for power that we have. It is similar to her biting me back, slapping me in the face, kicking me off. I really enjoy the restraint and the nullification of my size and strength, but I still view it as strength, waiting to be released.
About the Author: Choosing to remain anonymous, the author is a multifaceted kinkster and dominant that enjoys breaking the little boxes that restrain members in The Community from living most authentically. He enjoys validating The Story of each person’s Hero Journey, with a dash of praise kink.
