The Fireman’s Knot

He taught me to tie myself up.

He was a married fireman with a boat. Or so he said. I would have no way of knowing since the start of our three week friendship started, ended and stayed on the internet. He could have been anyone, anywhere. All I knew for sure was that he was helpful, always online and knew his knots.

I first ran into him January 2, 2006. I know the date only because the day before I had made a very boring New Years resolution that I would stop chatting with strange men that I met in chat rooms and that I would most certainly not get on cam with them if I did and that even if I did get on cam I would be sure to be polite and pretty and not you know, a cam whore.

So there I was, day two of a resolution that was fated to broken in three parts. It started innocently enough, that I will tell you. Married Fireman had a resolution of his own I think. Probably something to do with not being such a douche bag husband and to stop seducing girls on the internet. Meh. Whatever, his goals were really not important to me.

What was important to me was the words Fireman and Boat. In the short list of occupations and hobbies that require and intimate knowledge of rope and knots, those two are pretty high on the list. This of course led a very tame and boring conversation about jobs and other mundane things down a path of pure deviant education.

Teach me how to better tie someone up.
Do you have rope?

And there it began. Activate cams. My rope was green, his was white. As soon as we were set up I was suddenly very shy and very nervous. I also felt kind of stupid for asking this of him, how fucking hard was it going to be to teach someone to tie shit up over a cam for chrissakes?

It turns out that it wasn’t that hard. And that he was a really good teacher. He instructed me on basics and then step by painstakingly slow step, successfully had me wrist to wrist is the prettiest configuration I have ever seen. I had to pull myself away from looking at it all, I am most vain and in awe of my body when laced up tight. The only thing that was detracting my attention was one oddly misplace loose end that fell between my arms. I motioned to it on cam, he laughed and told me to grab it with my teeth and pull up as hard and as tight as I could.

Without thinking, I did just that. I brought my hands to my mouth and grabbed the green fiber between my lips, between my teeth. And pulled. Seconds later, I sat stunned. The pulling did what it was meant to do, it tightened everything up, making my hands immobile. I admired it more, my heart racing and my blood boiling.Then, one quick and crushing thought; what now?

“Now what”? I mouthed to him.

I watched him sneer. Figure it out, he typed in response and promptly logged off. Leaving me tied, dazed and all alone.

So Vanilla It Hurts

Vanilla sex or conventional sex is used to describe what a culture regards as standard or conventional sexual behavior. Different cultures, subcultures, and individuals have different ideas about what constitutes this type of sex. Often it is interpreted as sex that does not involve such elements as BDSM, kink, or fetish activities.

I feel the need to be very clear. I hate the term ‘vanilla’. However, as much as I hate it the word lends itself to a perfect and instant understanding. Especially in the BDSM community. Which is incidentally, another term I hate. The so called BDSM community is one either shrouded in shame and hidden or crazy leather covered madmen beating one another on street corners. Like all things in life, BDSM tends to be all or nothing and at extremes with even itself. I don’t blame my fellow kinksters for this. I blame the media. But then, I blame the media for everything under the sun.

Here is the thing that I want all my millions of future readers to know. Although I have a general dislike for nearly all generic phrasing, I am going to use it. I am going to use the hell out of it. I am going to toss around horribly cliché sayings at every opportunity. I am going to do it and do it well. Why? Because you understand what they mean. And I know how to spell them.

Now that all that is out of the way, on with the show.

Three in One

As if I needed another reason to dream about supple leather boots, girls on all fours and Sasha Grey.

The hipster trendy Vice Magazine has done the dirty work for me and combined all three. See your fappingly fantastic fashion fix right here.

Lovingly Stolen From: Fleshbot

Who?

Bondage Girl is the author of another blog, a well respected Mommy Type Blog that has been around for a few years. On said blog our beloved bg writes about things that most Mommy Bloggers do, work and toys and dinners and poems and photos of her precious family. Not that that there is anything wrong with that, but bg is getting a little bored keeping it family safe and has started this new site to let out a little more… steam.

Bondage Girl is 28, lives in the lifeless Midwest and can often be found reading, writing and paying someone else to do her arithmetic. She enjoys photography, art, liberal politics and rope.