keep me bound !

for your pleasure….

---

Before anyone asks…yes, the song choice was deliberate.

Poetry deserves ambience.

Don’t act like the title and the cover photo didn’t lead you here.

You saw it and something in you paused.

What did you think of?

Well I thought of Shibari?

Let it sit on your tongue like something forbidden, something that shouldn’t feel as soft as it does when you say it slowly.

Shi—ba—ri.

It sounds like a secret.

And maybe that’s what it is.

If you made it here,

You’re naughty.

Not because you understood it
but because something in you felt it.

---

I would always say yes to being tied up or doing that to someone as well.

Don’t you want to know what it feels like
to trust someone enough?
to let them decide what happens next to your body,
without fearing they’ll mishandle you?
Because voices can soften and still mean harm.
People can say “relax” while slowly teasing your body in a way very different from relaxing.

Now include a rope?

Bound?

The tension?

The way it only gets tighter when you pull away.
In the way it holds you exactly where you are,
not where you pretend to be.

Why do you think we crave to be bound?
wanting to be kept.

Not owned.
Not controlled in the way people misunderstand.

But held in a way that says:
I see how much you move, how much you escape every once in a while… but stay here.

For once,

for one day,
don’t fight it,

let loose but you can only cum when I tell you to.

Gosh!

That does something to your senses.

Your body starts to feel and breathe in a way that stirs pure desire.

Your moans and squirms extremely excited in the best way.

You find yourself biting your lips to feel something deeper as they move their hands through your body.

Ravaging you but you can’t do anything about it but take it like a good girl.

The torture doesn’t help either because you only get wetter for them the lower they get.

You crave them.

Their hands, their mouth.

The heat of their breath as they lick every crevice of your being.

I think that’s what makes it feel dangerous.

Not the knots.
Not the restraint.

But the silence that comes with it.

Because when you can’t move,
you start to feel everything you’ve been outrunning.

Your breath becomes louder.
Your thoughts sharper.
Your body… honest.

And suddenly, there is nowhere to hide.

Not from them.

Not from yourself.

And by doing that you let them into parts of your fantasies you’ve for long hidden behind that innocence.

---

Shibari demands patience in a way most people don’t have anymore.

Every knot is a decision.
Every pull is intentional.

There is no hiding behind urgency.

Only presence.

Only you…
and the unbearable awareness of being handled with care or not.

Stimulations done by mouth, hands or toys.

All happening at a pace that’s termed destruction.

There’s a moment where it stops being soft
and starts becoming something else.

Something darker.

Because pleasure doesn’t always have to be gentle.

Sometimes it means holding someone exactly where they break
just to understand how to put them back together.

I wonder what it says about me?

Because I’m only getting more turned on writing this text.
I don’t find that frightening.

The idea of studying someone like that in their most vulnerable state.
not rushed.

understanding them through the tension
feels like something that’s always missing in relationships or casual what nots.

And finding it isn’t something I’m letting go easy.

Maybe that’s why it lingers.

Why the thought of it sits in the back of your mind
long after I try to shake it off.

That intimacy in being restrained feels almost spiritual.

Since your hands can’t reach for them
you feel them more.

Every shift in their breathing.
Every pause in their hands.
Every second they take to decide what comes next.

You become aware in a way that is almost unbearable.

Not because it hurts.

But because it doesn’t.

Because it feels good to be handled and opened carefully.

Because it’s not really about rope.

Shibari isn’t just knots and patterns.

it’s attention.

Measured. Deliberate.

A hand guiding rope across your skin like it’s mapping you.
Like it’s memorizing where you tense, where you soften, where your breath betrays you.

And suddenly, your whole body is speaking.

Shaking from the numerous orgasms you’ve had with no control over.

Shibari is about the kind of intimacy
that doesn’t rush to the end.

The kind that stays in the middle
in the tension, in the pause, in the almost.

And I’m a sucker for the tension.

I handle that like role play.

And the act? Poetic

Maybe cause it makes you realize how much you’ve been craving to be held,
now you get it without even having to ask for it.

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