Playing Rough

“Am I in trouble?”

Stupid question, really. My arms are in a box tie behind my back, which is smarting from a few lightning-fast pullthroughs that struck it like a whip. My chest harness is taut and heavy against my clavicle, and D and I both know that it will leave a mark. I’m lying with my head in his lap, my legs stretched out in front of me as he brandishes a fresh length of rope, contemplating his next move. And I’ve just bitten his arm.

“Maybe.” He half-smiles. “But not now. If I do anything now, you’ll be expecting it.”

He bends my left leg at the knee and begins to tie a futomomo.

He can be gentle. Moments ago, he was unwrapping me from a much kinder tie. He crossed my arms in front of me so that I was embracing myself, and fastened the rope around my fingers. I kissed his hands as the bindings came off. But I’ve had a difficult week, and I’m not in a mood to be handled with kid gloves today, so when he offered some rougher play I enthusiastically agreed.

As he wraps the rope around my bent leg, a part of my brain – the part that hasn’t yet succumbed entirely to sensation – wonders what he would do if I began to resist. I would get violent, if he let me. I would thrash and kick and bite. He would overpower me easily, of course – me with my slight frame, and him with his athlete’s arms – but I imagine it being a worthwhile struggle. The thought swirls around in a fog of submission before it is discarded. Not here. Not now. Too many people. Not enough space.

A jolt of pain brings me sharply back to the present moment. D has yanked hard on the rope as he secures it. My eyes fly open, and I see heads turn as I cry out. He catches my eye, grins, locks the tie off. Then he wraps again, the already tense rope gnawing further into my flesh. Pulls, hard, and I cry out. Again. And a third time – slowly, now, and deliberately, almost as if he’s about to change his mind and slacken off…but no. Another flash of pain leaves me breathless.

“You see,” he murmurs, whilst I struggle to get my breathing back under control, “I can bite, too.”

The only answer I can think of is to bite him again.

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