The real reason she’s tied down that way is because otherwise she would just give in and float away.
bondage
Often, the best kind of release is long before you’re untied.
If you had shown me this image a year ago, it wouldn’t have done much for me.
Now, I stare a little longer at pictures like these. I appreciate them.
And sometimes I even crack a grin.
At this point, she is in repose. She has surrendered, resigned herself to the fact that she no longer has any control over the situation. In this sense, more than if she were to be released, she is free.
Like a Brisket, Part Eleven
From my spot on the floor, I couldn’t really see what was going on with The Prodigy and Craftsmate. I know Penthouse was partially talking her through some of the basics, but she was mostly doing the “tying like a brisket” herself.
Eventually, and while I was partially sub-spaced (which I’ll describe in detail in the next post, swearsies), I suddenly heard Penthouse exclaim how amazing that was. I looked up and saw some pretty impressive rope-work, especially considering that this was The Prodigy’s first time tying someone up.
“Oh man,” Craftsmate exclaimed, looking over his shoulder at the ropes, “this is like…this is the before picture. And damn. This is the before picture.”
Photo from here.
Like a Brisket, Part Ten
After Penthouse introduced The Prodigy to his homemade spreader bar, he demonstrated another sort of hogtie on me while all of them cooed over the rope-work. I admit, I was sort of upset that I didn’t have eyes in the back of my head to see it, so Craftsmate was nice enough to take a few pictures for me. And so I felt generous enough to share this one with you guys.
I might be blushing tons sharing this with you all right now, so bear with me.
That’s Penthouse’s belt and the whole arrangement was actually pretty comfortable. I could roll onto my side, I could push my legs up, and I could have someone else pull me up by it so I mostly left the ground without feeling much strain on my shoulders. So, I got kind of cozy on the rug and just watched the other three mess around with the rope.
Eventually, The Prodigy picked up a length of it and turned to Penthouse, making the statement that reduced us to so much laughter that we were almost in tears:
“Could you help me with Craftsmate? I want to tie him up like a brisket.”
Like a Brisket, Part Seven
Penthouse had put The Prodigy into one of these sorts of harnesses and she asserted that she wanted to try to get out of it herself. Unlike mine, which was apparently more for function, The Prodigy’s ropework was really more for aesthetic and could, with some working, but wriggled out of.
I, on the other hand, only got out when someone finally let me out when I had to go to the bathroom. When I returned, The Prodigy was still trying to squirm her way out and Penthouse had shown Craftsmate how to use the rope to make cuffs that cinched tighter when the person inside pulled on them.
A little while later, I wound up inside of them with my arms behind my back as we cheered on The Prodigy as she worked the loops down her arms.
“Now, see, you can make her do this,” Penthouse grabbed the extra rope on the end of my cuffs and pulled my arms up so I bent forward. I kicked back at him playfully. “Or, if you got her on the ground, you could hogtie her pretty easily.”
I guess I don’t have to explain to you all how I wound up a little bit later.
The thing about hogties with that tie is that if you struggle even a little bit, your wrists get tighter. And, so, I was stuck that way, trying to get comfortable on the rug while The Prodigy crossed an hour of being stuck trying to get out of the harness and Penthouse went to go get his riding crop.
Like a Brisket, Part Six
We arrived back to the apartment, let Craftsmate out and sat down with a few drinks to get to know each other. It was a little awkward at first, but eventually we settled into a groove of telling each other how we’d figured out we were kinky.
I was about halfway through my story when Penthouse got up from the couch and walked over to the table. He picked up one of the crocheted lengths of rope and started unwinding it without introduction.
I cocked a brow. “What are you doing?”
“I’m tying you up,” he replied nonchalantly, moving back to the couch with the rope.
I laughed, “oh. Okay.” I set my drink down. “Good to know.”
I continued trying to tell my story as Penthouse was tying me up, but by the time we got to The Prodigy, all hope of normal conversation had sort of vanished. Instead, Penthouse was just talking through the harness he was putting me in that, unlike the knot he had tied before, was basically impossible to get out of. And, by pulling on this somewhat awkwardly applied rope between my breasts, Penthouse could essentially drag me around the room with ease. It was a pretty interesting introduction to being tied up with rope, but I had to admit the harness was sort of pretty and I was impressed that no amount of wriggling could get this thing loose.
He tied the excess rope off to the leg of the couch, limiting my range of motion to about two feet in any direction. While I tried to persuade Craftsmate to itch the tip of my nose, Penthouse offered to show The Prodigy a different kind of harness.
Like a Brisket, Part Four
I had nothing to show for show and tell, so I figured I’d let Craftsmate and Penthouse show me a knot and I’d stubbornly try to get out of it before the final member of our party arrived. Penthouse used the belt from a robe and did a fairly simple but pretty tight two-column sort of deal on my wrists in front. I didn’t want to put my mouth all over it, so I figured if I just got one of my thumbs out I could manage just fine.
While I was stumbling around, trying to work my wrists lose and pressing the knot against my knee, corners of tables, and basically anything else around, Penthouse and Craftsmate set to laying out the things they had bought and figuring out how exactly they were going to make a pair of cuffs.
Eventually, Craftsmate looked up and chuckled, “I love how we’re just discussing this while she’s trying to get out over there.” I rolled my eyes, but I had to laugh. I had gotten the knot loose enough that I could slide my thumb up about halfway through the belt, but not enough to get it out fully.
I’m still not entirely sure what the exchange was, but for some reason I called Penthouse a bitch and he pretty calmly grabbed me and pulled me over his knee. I went to sit up, but he used an arm to pin me down. “Now, what did you call me?” He asked.
I stifled a laugh and looked over to Craftsmate, “come on, vouch for me here.”
“No can do,” Craftsmate replied, “I’m kind of a voyeur.”
I huffed and craned my neck to look back up at at Penthouse, “a bitch. I called you a bitch.”
“Uh huh,” he said, hauling me to my feet by my shoulders and walking me over to the carpet. “Thought so.” He applied some pressure to my knees and I knelt down, still trying to work my hands free. He looked down and chuckled, “how’s it going?”
I groaned and tried to use my knee for leverage, “I just need to get the thumb out.”
Penthouse laughed and pushed me down on the carpet. “Go on, then, get your thumb out,” he said, holding me down in an effort to make it more complicated until his phone buzzed that the girl from Ivy University had arrived. He helped me up and I stumbled forward before feeling that there was finally the give in the belt I needed.
“Oh, here it goes!” I exclaimed and yanked my thumb, followed by my whole hand, out of the belt. I shook it loose and set it down on the counter.
Penthouse and Craftsmate applauded. I took a bow.
Tied with a bow.
Guys, no, seriously. Look at this.
He’s wearing sunglasses in the bathtub.
Fuck him and everything he stands for.