He recognized me by my voice and my fingers.

“I saw them moving across his chest. The pink polish, the rings. You did some elaborate knot and tightened it around him.”

Mr Jones sat and observed the class while we practiced our arm-binds. I felt his eyes on me when mine weren’t on him. From what I saw, I was pleased. He was wearing all black, dark hair, and a black mask. Man of mystery indeed. Slender. Tall. Pretty much the poor man’s Alaric Saltzman.

We’d been in contact for 3 weeks – texts, voice notes, calls. He’s a writer and a sensualist. He’s kinky, creative, and adventurous. Just. Like. Me.

Speaking of kinky, did I mention this was our first official date? A Shibari class.

Mr Jones and I live about 2.5 hours apart. We planned to meet up for a drink before the class, but he got caught in terrible traffic. By the time he arrived, I was tying some other guy.

The instructor showed us another tie, then came around to inspect and give pointers. At this point my chatty partner was still talking and Mr Jones sat closer to us, politely, without interrupting.

Finally, I said, “nice meeting you; thanks for letting me tie you!” to Chatty-Mc-Underpants. Once he left, Mr Jones and I hugged. He seemed sweet natured and timid.

I tried a few ties on him and then it was his turn to tie me. He was rusty at first. So he got the instructor to help him. They both worked on me. My arms were folded behind my back and my body swayed to the right and left depending on how they were tying.

As they tied me he checked in to see how I was doing.

“Great,” I said, smiling with my eyes closed. I could feel the rope hitting my ass as they maneuvered, and I really liked the feeling of both of their hands on me.

Once the instructor left us, Mr Jones pulled me by the rope closer to him. My arms were tied with one palm facing away from my body. It laid on his abdomen when he pulled me close. When I say I sunk into his touch… 🤤

I don’t have the language to describe how it felt to fall into him. How it felt when he wrapped his arm around my waist and held me from behind. I don’t have similes or metaphors to describe how the passion poured out from the two of us.

Sometimes he’d tie me and pause, pressing his body against mine to savor the erotic energy, then bury his face in my neck as if to inhale my essence. Barely audible moans escaped from my lips, but he was so dialed in to me that he heard them and became more animal.

I recall a really hot growl before he got on his knees before me. My heart and pussy where throbbing. He slowly and deliberately moved his hands up my thigh before wrapping the rope around it. He moved it up, close to my ass and tied it snug there. He looked up at me as I moaned quietly, wondering if he could feel my heat.

I looked down at him and bit my lips behind the mask. I think he could tell. He got up and walked behind me. He slipped his index finger under my shirt and ran it across my stomach. Then he hugged me from behind again. He was holding me so tight and the chemistry was dynamite.

My first time being tied was exquisite. It felt as though something unlocked inside me & caused my body to surrender to the rope. I was intoxicated by the pull of sub-space. I could feel it like a gentle breeze as they tightened the rope and my body swayed in whichever direction.

Later, we would talk about the energy of that interaction and how much tension we had between us before even seeing each other with our masks off.

To be continued…