Return to Jail


This is the third and last in a series of a female’s perspective who again finds herself at the receiving end of attention. To stay with the theme, it could be headlined “Third Encounter of His Kindliness”, but I resist.

Before we get to fairy’s juicy report, a bit of philosophical observation seems in order: It appears that her accounts are mainly hitting the sweet spot of our female readers. It is them who can vicariously empathize with our heroine, can identify with her as she continues her journey of “beauty in suffering”.

Us guys, on the other hand, who are mainly seeing things from the top, are often preoccupied with humping and pumping, and are less inclined to “listen” into what is going on between the ears of the sub(ject). Provided, of course, you are one of them tough and super hard Doms like me.

Come to think of it, it is my biggest fear to appear soft, or worse, to eventually flip over to the other side. I have been battling this fear for years now. I’m even having nightmares about this. I can tell you, ladies, it’s a tough gig to keep the Mr Tough Guy image up. It’s a struggle.

Osada Steve told me not to worry. That’s easy for him to say, ‘coz he’s not a strutter. He’s not a guy concerned with gait or girth. But you never really know. Perhaps he too is waking up at night, shaking.


Return to Jail
By fairy

I am not sure about the Japanese but the Chinese have this concept of ‘Yin and Yang’ – opposites in balance.

I’ve never been a believer of that despite being an ethnic Chinese, but it’s the closest ‘symbol’ I could think of to describe what happened that evening, an evening which had started out being so normal, and ended being anything but.

We were to go on a SM Nightlife Tour with Osada Steve. This was different from the normal sort of tourist crawl in that we were going to visit an SM themed club, not just in its decoration, but its very nature.
I had been there before, almost exactly two years ago, and had had a most enlightening experience. I wasn’t sure how exactly the evening would progress – though I had my ideas – but I figured it would be nice to revisit the place, for old times’ sake you understand.

The place seemed smaller than I had remembered, probably because the furniture had been rearranged. In addition to Master and Osada Steve, there was an Australian couple which we had met a week earlier at Studio SIX, and another European gentleman. All six of us seemed to fill the room, even though really, we only took up about one-fifth of the seats.

The hostesses were dressed to suit the environment – big hairdos, SM clothing, killer heels, and various metal and leather adornments on their bodies. They sat with us, served us drinks, and together we chatted, struggling every now and then with the language barrier. Over time, more patrons entered and things got a little lively with the Australian lady going off to change into costumes and getting tied up. I was just happy to sit and watch and observe the interactions between the hostesses and their male patrons.

I felt detached from my surroundings, like an anthropology student, observing a subculture which I was a part of, and yet at the same time, was quite foreign to me because it is almost non-existent where I come from. It was fascinating to watch; they were the actors, and I their audience.

I figured that at some point in the evening I would be tied up, perhaps just a little rope-play in a corner somewhere – Master had already asked me shortly after we arrived to go take my bra off – and then be instructed to sit there in my ropes; a little experience for me to take home and file away in my drawer of memories, and I was comfortable with that.

A gentleman I was told I had met before that night two years ago (you must forgive me for remembering little of those present that night, given the situation I found myself in) had arrived shortly after the ‘games’ begun; after a while Osada Steve called to him to bring to a coffee table a huge, heavy-looking black duffel bag which I soon saw contained quite a lot of rope and various pain instruments – that was my cue that my own personal time was to start soon.

I admit I got a little worried when Master was asked to go look at the toys – I knew He was being asked to pick what would be used on me. It dawned on me for the first time that evening that I was not going to have “just a little rope-play”.

Osada Steve gave me a little smile of sorts and beckoned me to come up to the center of the room. Taking a deep breath, I thought to myself, “This is not something which happens daily so try not to screw up, fairy. Ignore everyone.” And then I got up and walked to him, stopping for a bit on the way to receive some comfort from Master – this wasn’t going to be just my experience, but rather, it was really OUR experience.

When I closed my eyes, it felt like invisible walls were building up, surrounding me, separating me from all that was happening around me. I could still hear and sense the goings-on, and really, I was a part of all that, but at the same time, I wasn’t really in that room.

Osada Steve took me in a bear hug from behind, warming up my muscles and cracking my bones while at the same time, making me feel safe with him. I had no idea what he was planning but I knew I could trust him; I think that’s very important in order for one to be able to immerse oneself in the experience. There is no need for words; everything that needs to be said is spoken through the body contact. Rope doesn’t just bind people it connects them too.

As with the last two experiences I wrote about, I will not be able to (and I don’t want to) relate the entire rope-bondage process which I went through, simply because I didn’t make a conscious effort to be aware of how every bit of rope was tied – and since that evening, I haven’t asked to see the photos, because I don’t want to ‘taint’ my memory of the session; you don’t necessarily have to know everything in order to experience it, you just have to be willing to relax your mind.

And being safe within the invisible walls, I let my mind wander. It’s not about obtaining the next orgasm – in fact, a physical sexual orgasm (while enjoyable) pales in huge comparison with flying through subspace – but rather about getting that mental explosion of freedom; that’s the best I can describe subspace.

I think Osada Steve tied me in pretty much the same manner as he did in the club two years ago, only he seemed to use more force as he laid layer after layer of rope on my skin. As rope wound round my chest, it felt like a safety net was being woven around me, hugging me. Like a puppet my body jerked from the force of each pull of the rope, and I simply moved to whichever direction the rope wanted me to go.

As my feet were pulled from under me off the ground, I felt cushioned on air, floating not just physically but mentally too. I could hear the laugher from those sitting around me, the bits of conversation taking place. But they weren’t really intrusive because to my state of mind then, they weren’t really happening. The rope shielded me from all that, freeing me to wander.

Then, I was introduced to another role the rope played. When I felt pain from an instrument, the rope held me in place so I would have no choice but to take in the full brunt of the blows, the whole painful experience.

And that is where the ‘Yin and Yang’ concept comes into play. Along with pleasure must come the pain for there to be a balance, where each cancels out the other so your mind can reach this complete state of nothingness. And there was a lot of pain.

There were a number of instruments – I’m guessing I got to taste whips, canes and crops though I cannot say for sure. Then, I felt this strange sort of sensation that was both warm and painful. It took a while before I thought to myself, in a state of mind that had been both awoken into acute awareness and at the same time, continued to float on a soft cushion, that it was probably hot wax.

As the pain intensified, this state of being both awake and in slumber continued. The ropes bit harder into my skin as I struggled and twisted my body around to try and escape the pain, as though they were whispering to me, “Hush, be still,” as they both hurt and comforted.

It reached a final point where because my mind was so free, I tasted the pain from the instruments and the rope biting me so acutely it seemed to break through a barrier and tears starting flowing down my cheeks. On one hand there were tears from the pain; on the other, there was this relief where you go, “Ok, I surrender, I don’t want to and I won’t fight everything (beyond the session) anymore.” It’s a helplessness and also a relief. Vulnerability and strength. So much happening altogether at the same time, and yet also, a serene silence (though I’m sure I wasn’t exactly silent through the pain).

So many contradictions co-existing in such harmony. A scale balanced.

And then, there was nothing. Just emptiness. You feel something, and you cry out in pain. But yet at the same time, it’s like it’s not even there in the first place. Your body responds with the cry because that is how it is supposed to respond, as nature intended it to do. But it’s just an empty response; it doesn’t really exist.

Somehow, I find that Rene Descartes’ “Cogito, ergo sum” relates in some (obscure) manner to my session: All that I experienced seemed not to exist, but because I did think of them, and of course there were the physical ‘evidences’ like the marks my body borne after the session, they must have existed. It felt like I had experienced nothingness, but because I did ‘feel’ and ‘think’ it, it comforts me to know that I did ‘experience’ that nothingness – a level of subspace I had not encountered before.

The ‘Yin and Yang” concept believes in harmony, a balance which is achieved when you have equal portions of both elements. Pain and pleasure, amongst the other contradictory feelings I felt during the session, is perhaps just like that. When examined by their own selves, they are such separate and contrasting elements. But when put together, experienced together, they don’t seem so different after all. In fact, they seem to be made for each other.

It’s another level of subspace I’ll like to think I experienced, another insight to the many complex elements that make up BDSM. I apologise for sounding so ‘philosophical’ if it was a physical and sexual narration you were hoping to read, and I apologise if I do not make any sense at all – I myself am still continuing to try to take in all I experienced that evening.

I thank Master for making that experience happen, and I thank Osada Steve for guiding me through that maze of ropes.

When I sit back and think of it all, I must admit I still do not completely understand everything beyond my feeble attempts of sorting all I felt through writing, and apart from this piece, I don’t really intend to further dissect the experience; It’ll just taint everything, I think. You just have to take ‘Yin and Yang’, admire the two as they are as individual elements, and the beauty of it all when put together as a whole and then, well, that’s that.

The bit of mystery surrounding it adds to its beauty, I believe. As is the beauty of BDSM and rope.



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