Chapter 18: Elementary String Theory

Course 8 / Day 22: Course Progress Meeting

Participant Notes: Fifty

Ylena: Fifty's last session with me seemed to make a deep impression. Of all those on this intake, she seems to lose herself more completely in beatings than any of the others. She continues to show a willingness to follow her chosen path and to gain as many experiences as she can during her stay.

Jenny's Recollections.

I suppose I should have expected it. Thinking back it's surprising that there hasn't been any of it up until now.

Ylena and Jo appear outside the cells. We're all waiting there for the assignment of the day's duties. Ylena and Jo are talking quietly, pointing first to the cell next door to mine and then to one of the others further down the line. I can't hear them. Then Ylena takes out a single dice and tosses it up. Jo laughs and nods. Ylena throws the dice across the table and the two of them peer at it.

At once Jo turns to my cell and says, "You are the lucky one, Fifty. Come with us."

She opens my cell door, clips a leash to my nose ring and I follow her and Ylena up to the gym.

"Tell me, Fifty," Ylena begins. "Have you had experience of bondage?"

"Da, Gaspazha," I reply. "A few times."

"Not simple tying, just a knot or two. I mean real bondage? So you are quite immobile? Locked in the grip of ropes?"

I can see that what Gaspazha has in mind is more stringent than anything I've experienced before. I shake my head. "Nyet, Gaspazha. Not like that."

Ylena smiles. "Good," she says. "So, this is a new experience for you and some learning for Jo. She wishes to see what can be done and I, I am an expert, a nawashi." Ylena evidently isn't waiting for me to agree or accept her suggestion. She probably won't be concerned that I haven't the faintest idea what a 'nawashi' is either. "Now, moi slooga," she goes on. "Over there you see those ropes. Bring them here, the brown ones. Lay them out neatly on the table."

The ropes are in hanks on a series of hooks on one wall of the gym. They have been coiled neatly and arranged by diameter and length. They are in several colours; white, red, blue and a natural brown colour.

There are four hanks of brown rope. They are quite thin, perhaps only half an inch or so in diameter. I lay them out on the table.

"No, slooga, not like that. Lay them two on each side of the table the short ones nearer me, The long ones beneath them. In two lines."

I do as she says, putting them in place as neatly as I can. Precision seems to be important.

Ylena smiles. "Good, slooga. I am pleased the dice chose you. You take care with things." I feel proud; pleased that such a small act has attracted my Gaspazha's praise. "Now lay down between the two lines of rope. On your face. Hands by your sides."

I climb up onto the table. It is the last instruction she gives me, for the rest of the time her remarks are addressed to Jo.

"Shibari is not only concerned with immobilising the subject but also with the aesthetic result of the rope applied. We do not only bind but we aim to make the binding look pleasing and the form adopted by the subject as a result of the binding should be pleasing too. For me I also believe that we should seek to deliver the subject up to a state of detachment from the self; to a point where they are absorbed in the sensation of being bound at the expense of all else. This we do by intricate and exquisitely tight rope work. It is tradition to use the natural rope and that is what I will use now. I like the colours though." She nods across to the other hanks of rope.

"I see," says Jo.

"Yes, Three good colours. Like the Russian flag," Ylena says with a smile. "It makes a good look but for now we will follow tradition. See, we will start with the ankles and feet."

Ylena goes to work. I feel her draw a length of rope around one of my ankles. She winds it around the other; taking a number of turns and drawing both together immovably. She is taking great care to lay the rope precisely, so that each turn fits snugly against its neighbour. Although I cannot see what she is doing I can sense the neatness of her efforts. She takes more turns of the rope under the arches of my feet. Then I feel her pull my big toes together. A single loop of rope is sufficient to lock them in place. It is a curious sensation; my ankles and feet completely fixed but the rest of me still free and able to move, though without a word from my Gaspazha, I don't.

"So now, the wrists," I hear Ylena say. She binds my wrists with my palms back to back, she threads a strand around the base of each of my fingers finishing off with a knot that holds my thumbs together. With my wrists tied so, my forearms are tensed and begin to ache almost at once.

"Please help," Ylena says to Jo, Together the two of them bring me to a sitting position. "Now we make a karada, a rope dress." Ylena begins weaving rope around my body, across around and between my tits, fixing my arms to my sides. She positions the knots exactly, ensuring they sit symmetrically and the each length of rope is tensioned so that it pulls equally on the others. She works her way down my body until finally she pulls the rope between my legs. She looks at it carefully and then withdraws it and ties three lumpy knots, close to one another, in the rope. She puts it back and then pulls it taut. As she ties it off to the rope around my wrists, I feel the knots slip between my moistening labial lips and know that for every movement of my arms I will be rewarded with the sensation of the knots sliding across my sex.