I’ve gone down the driveway in a light industrial area that opens up into a gravel-covered parking area. Behind it; an ordinary concrete-block two-level building. It's not a motel. There is a doorway with the number above. It’s definitely the right number, so I go inside and up the stairs.

At the top, I enter an open loft space with a wooden floor. I’m surprised to see there are about twelve people standing around talking. Folding chairs are set out, and an attractive woman with striking red lipstick, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, is smiling and chatting as she sets out some more. Then I see you. You’re chatting with a guy that is slightly shorter and more solidly built than you are. The guy has excellent posture and, with his bare feet, I can imagine him being a martial arts instructor. 

Looking around I am intrigued by the mixture of ages and people, and my curiosity keeps growing. When I join you and your friend, you introduce me.

"Nice to meet you! It’s your first time at a Shibari workshop, I understand?" he asks, taking my held-out hand in both of his. Before I can respond you intervene, "We've toyed with the thought of restraint a few times, but just between the two of us. She loves beauty, in fact, has an excellent eye for it. I think she'll really enjoy the aesthetics of Shibari."

"Ah! Thanks for helping us out today, I think you will thoroughly enjoy it. We'll have you on third, since it's your first time." And with that, his bare feet walk him to the front of the group of chairs where he invites everyone to sit down. I don't even know where to start with the questions, but the group has gone quiet and is taking their seats. I didn't even get the guy's name. You hold my hand as we sit down, and whisper as you look into my slightly apprehensive face, "Don't worry, if there's anything you're not enjoying we just stop. This is a safe space" 

"We're very lucky to have Kenjo-san demonstrating for us today," your friend announces to the group. "He doesn't consider himself a teacher, so he will not be explaining his techniques or answering questions, as much as I'm sure we would all love to be able to pick his brains. Even so, I think we'll all learn a great deal just by watching his extraordinary work. He will be working with three different models today. You'll have a chance to examine his work more closely at the end, but for now, please sit and enjoy the demonstration; Kenjo-san!"

The group claps, as a Japanese man of undefined age, stands. The woman I noticed earlier with the bright lipstick stands too and goes behind a screen. Kenjo-san walks to the front of the group and takes a coil of rope from a large bag. His movements are graceful as he plays the rope out. The woman emerges from behind the screen in just a pair of plain cotton undies. Her large breasts and full hips are mesmerising. The whole of her back, and down each arm, are tattooed - whimsical and intricately beautiful. She presents herself to Kenjo-san, still carrying the smile she had earlier, albeit hiding a hint of nervousness now. 

He looks her in the eyes for a moment, studying. He doesn't return her smile, just simply takes her arms and folds them behind her back, making each hand, hold the elbow of the opposite arm. He wraps a coil of rope around the two arms in the centre, just above the wrists. Another coil follows, tightens, finishes with a knot binding her arms together. Rope is draped up and over her shoulder, then down her front, between her breasts, and loosely wrapped around her waist.

His movements are fluid. He plays the ropes out. Going around her body, sometimes doubling over a rope already laid, sometimes letting them take a different path across her body. It’s like an artist sketching, loose lines are first an unrecognisable sprawl, and as they tighten and are knotted together, the pattern emerges. A symmetrical rope ladder up her back, binding her arms in place. On her front, the cable goes twice around her ribcage, just beneath her breasts, then just above, and across her shoulders making it dig into the swell of her breasts. Her nipples are hard now, sensitive, available.

He walks her to one of the columns and binds her feet tightly against it. The same rope is then led up to the labyrinthine ladder on her back. He stands in front of her, assessingly. Her smile is now simply one of complete submission. Placing his hands gently on her shoulders, he pulls her towards him. Her feet are immobile and her body falls out from the column until the rope at her back takes her weight. She regains her smile, and looks him in the eyes, "Thank you, master." Applause from the group. He doesn't release her.

The second model is taller, thinner, with short hair. She walks out from behind the screen completely naked, goes to Kenjo-san, and says something to him in Japanese, bowing her head. He positions her like a sprinter in starting blocks. This time he moves swiftly, coiling rope around her ankles, calves, thighs, waist, chest, arms. It's beautiful to watch. This is a dance, or perhaps more a marionette performance. Her torso is pushed down against her front leg, her arms pulled outwards, tracing rhythmic floppy circles on the floor as he pulls on the ropes.

He makes her back leg point outwards, which makes her back arch and her chest expand and go upwards. Kenjo-san finds anchor points on the back wall, and two more on the columns. He draws long runs of rope from his model. Wrists, feet; the lithe woman is the centre of a spider's web. The ropes are pulled tight into the final rope installation; she is lying on her left hip, that same left leg pulled behind her and her right leg pulled forward. A twist at her hips, her torso is turned the other way, her chest upwards, her arms stretched out and her small breasts accentuated by the basketwork of rope. Admiring whispers and more applause follow.

It’s my turn now. Cued by expectant looks, I stand up from the audience. It’s quiet. Eyes are on me as I walk and disappear behind the screen. Am I really going to do this? I stand for a moment, feeling my heart beating in my throat. Then, decisively, I undo my jeans and slide them off my hips. My t-shirt is next. I had worn sexy lingerie for you today, expecting an intimate time; not standing in a warehouse folding my clothes before walking out to this group of men and women - strangers. I pause for a moment and look down at her body. A plethora of flaws running through my head. 

"You can do this. It will be an amazing experience" You seem to have read my thoughts as you emerge next to me. Kissing me you unclasp my bra, and pull my knickers down encouragingly. You trace your hand back up my legs and over my naked arse.

"You're beautiful… And it's time now," you whisper, pushing me out from the screen. 

I try not to look at the faces, but their eyes are all on me, each set of eyes dizzying me. And my lover? He went back in the crowd of eyes. Kenjo-san stands directly in front of me, taking me in, appraising me. He puts his hands on my shoulders, looks into my blue eyes and down my body. I have never felt more naked. He picks up a rope, steps behind me, and takes my hands. I am shivering, and not sure if it is the coolness of the space or my nerves that make me shake. With only one turn of the rope, my hands are together. He holds them wrist to wrist, away from my body, as he fastens the first knot. Then around again. I am under his control now.

My arms tied behind me are somewhat uncomfortable. I mentally take in my own nakedness, and those eyes on me. All on me. The rope goes around my arms again, another knot. I can feel the vibration of rope feeding through rope, my arms jerking a little as each knot is tightened. I am in the hands of an expert, so I decide to relax into it, letting my mind concentrate on all these different sensations. The coolness of the air on my skin, the tightness of my arms that are immobilised behind me. A little involuntary flex of my arm muscle tells me how tightly bound I am now. Confident hands taking rope, feeding through, and continuing tightening. The sea of eyes, like a bright light shining on me. 

Hands press my shoulders. I’m guided down to the floor. Knees are pulled apart, but the soles of my feet are placed together. I feel the cool air on my pussy. The eyes… 

My legs have been butterflied out for a room full of strangers. My feet are bound. He passes a rope over my left shoulder, down between my legs and back. I feel it tighten my shoulder to my chest and even crotch. Pulling my legs further apart he fits the rope into the cleft between my vulva and thigh, leaving my crotch on full display. A second rope on the other side. Two ropes pulled tight on either side of my pussy. More rope work I feel, but can't see.

A sound from above, rope sliding across metal. Then more ropework: the fibre running down my spine. I feel a tug. A slight movement of my shoulders is indicating that my upper body is pivoting around a point just between my shoulder blades. I relax a little and feel that the rope there has taken my weight. Kenjo-san is working at my feet now. A force pulls on the rope around my ankles, and my body falls forward.

For a second I feel my face falling towards the floor. Terrified, I gasp, but then suddenly I am swinging freely in the air. The same noise of rope against metal as I am being pulled higher, now just a weight, swinging gently. My knees are open, my chest and breasts pushed forward, a diamond-shaped pendulum. A large, final, applause from the group.

I hear a shutter click and jerk my head towards it.  "It's OK," you say, "I'll give you the memory card afterwards, but these photos are beautiful. You'll never want to erase them.”

People crowd around me, admiring the ropework and talking. Voices, admiring comments, but no-one speaking to me directly. People examine the knots, run their hands over the ropes, chat as if I’m not even there. How much time has passed while I’ve been hanging there like a piece of flesh?  

Finally, you come and help me down. You take my weight while your friend releases the rope that's locking me in. I am unsteady on my feet. Holding me, your friend works on the knots, the backs of his hand under the ropes and against my skin as he undoes each one. Strong hands working around my breasts, minutes each time, my belly, my pussy. The back of his hand against my vulva freeing the knots.

He looks at me. “I’m Gary,” and strokes and kisses my face briefly. All rope now loosened, he pulls it down and back between my legs, grazing my labia as he does so. Behind me Gary threads the rope through to the back and then works to free my waist, his hands working away at the top of my buttocks. Confident, professional. Just my arms bound now. I feel the freedom of being able to turn my torso. His touch is gentle as he works to free my arms too.

The woman with the tattoos approaches. She kisses my cheek. "You looked amazing up there." As if there's nothing unusual about chatting to a semi-bound naked woman in a room full of people. You turn the camera on to show the photos you took. High contrast, the light coming from the side and showing the texture of the ropes digging into my skin, my helplessness in its beauty.

In one, where my head is pulled back and my hair is flowing behind me, I look like a circus performer - In another my pussy is open like a flower with ropes pressed into my skin on either side. The tattooed lady gasps. "Fuck, that's beautiful." She looks into my eyes. "So fucking sexy." I can feel that her words and the realisation of what has happened is getting me turned on now. 

Gary is finished untying me. "How are you feeling?" he asks.

"I think I need a glass of wine," I reply, laughing.

"Sounds like a good idea," you say. "We'll just wrap things up here. You're the designated driver, Gary!" 

We walk back towards the screen so I can get dressed, but are stopped by a stranger. He shakes my hand and then yours. "Thank you so much for coming, this is my space. I haven't seen you here before?"

"My first time," I say.

"You looked fantastic. It's such a beautiful art form. You were so lucky to have Kenjo-san bind you like that.” We're close to the screen, but you’re teasing me now - you’re not quite ready for me to get dressed. You keep chatting to him. However, I can play this game too and talk as if it's nothing for me to make small talk with strangers while completely naked. I chat, gesticulate, and laugh. I see you smile. 

Finally, he leaves. I dress, my comfortable clothes hiding the rope patterns still pressed into my skin. A sexy little secret. After joining Gary again, we go downstairs to his SUV. You hop in the front, and I climb in the back, relieved to have a chance to gather my thoughts while you and Gary chat in the front seats. We park, it’s only a short walk to the bar, but we stop outside. There's a rugby match on and the crowd is cheering. It's not the right vibe. 

"Not feeling it?" Gary asks you.

You look over at me. "Nah, maybe just a quiet drink."

"Your place?" Gary asks.

"Umm, with my wife and kids?" 

"My place then. I’ve got beers." 

I can see you smirk as you reply, "Your place it is."

---

It's a single man's apartment; a racing bike on a hook on the wall, a soft rug on the floor. He offers us both a seat on the sofa before going to the kitchen for the beers. When he comes back and hands them to us, I get to see him more closely. Late thirties, early forties perhaps? Some smile lines, an easy, confident manner about him. We chat while thoughts swirl through my head: that he has seen and touched my naked body, that I don't know anything about him, and most of all, that it seems that this is what you had planned for me tonight.

"Yeah, I've been doing it for a few years now. I've never had the chance to suspend anyone though. That's another level up. You were very lucky to experience that on your first time," he says, looking at me as he sits down.

I hadn't thought of it like that. I had been too caught up in the insanity, intensity, and vulnerability of having my naked body hanging in a web of rope while strangers milled around me.

"Would you like to experiment some more? I've got some ropes here." 

Now I am invited to be vulnerable in a whole different way. I look at you - hoping that you will politely decline?

"That sounds like fun," you say. 

He gets up and goes to another room. I sip my beer nervously.

"You will look after me, " I declare quietly.

You nod, “Just say it; he would never insist. But I’m there and I’ll have him back off. If need be”  

I can tell you are also a little nervous, and I pull you in for a kiss. My lips fold over yours, my tongue then inside to meet your tongue. We're still kissing when he comes back. He takes my hand and guides me to my feet. Without asking, he lifts my t-shirt over my head, places it on a chair, and reaches behind me to undo my bra.

“Let’s do this, “ he tells you excitedly. I look at you and unbutton my jeans and pull them down once again. They pool at my feet. I feel elevated and slightly surprised at how willingly I step out of them. I fold them and place them with my other clothes, then come back to stand in front of him. I’m no longer passively going along with this. He looks me in the eyes, smiles, and says, "Take your undies off too, gorgeous". 

I do it. Of course.

My knees were apart on the soft rug. He shows you the knots, you work on me together. Two guys with a hobby. It's different from before with Kenjo-san. You're having fun with me, playing with the ropes and with my body. I inhale deeply and look at you when he cups my breast as he shows you different ways the rope can go underneath it or across it. He touches my body gently as he feeds rope across my shoulders and down my back. I'm okay. You stroke me and pay close attention to me as he works, give me sips of beer.

“Are you feeling sexy?” you ask me softly.

I nod. “I’m getting aroused,” I whisper back.

You gather some of my wetness with your fingers and show your friend. He smiles. "I'm glad your body is responding to this. It's a beautiful thing to give up control. The rope work is beautiful and inside it all is the prisoner, her arms gracefully pointing behind her, bound to her ankles. You've been reduced to a body, both graceful and available to be fucked - by anyone who can.”

You take your camera out. A few minutes of photos, posing me, experimenting with the arch of my back, the tilt of my head and hair. "Maybe some with the two of you,“ your friend says, taking over your camera.

"Sure,“ you say, “How do you want me in the photo?"

"Maybe take your shirt off?" 

You continue on to stand in front of me. Your standing physique contrasts with my helpless, bound, kneeling body. My face is centimetres from your crotch. Click, click. I kiss your cock through your chinos. I can see the size of the bulge. And the bulge in your pants is big, enticing, so very exciting to have it right now, right here, in front of that man. I lean forward and plant the kiss on the warm, firm fabric. Click.

We experiment with shots. Me kissing, biting at the bulge, your fly unbuttoned, and me extending my tongue out to trace your hardness through your underwear. Click, click, click. You know me enough to know I am soaking wet for you now. I wish you’d toy with my pussy a little... You pull down your jeans and underwear all the way and present your thick, hard cock to my mouth. Click, click.

My tongue extends, to just tease the underside of the head. Click. Tracing the length of your cock with my tongue. Click, click. Kissing hungrily around its head, taking it in my mouth, pleasuring it, I love the weight and size and texture of your cock, I always have. I am straining at my bonds, wishing I could reach out and hold it with my hands. But only my head is free. I do my best to please you with what movement I have. I made you forget your shooting friend. But these photos are beautiful. You'll never want to erase them"

You move around, then sit behind me and trace your fingers over my body, over my ropes, down my helpless arms, up my legs, and over my pussy lips, so very, very wet. Your left hand on my shoulder, my back, my waist, while the fingers of your right hand explore, rediscovering my pussy, my wet thighs, then inside, entering my soaking vagina. And me? I’m just feeling your breath on my neck, your kisses, your hands, your fingers working my craving pussy as I moan. You want to penetrate me from behind, but my arms are in the way.

"Shall we try another binding?" he asks. "If we put her on the bed I've got some different points we can restrain her to." You break the moment. You had forgotten about him for a minute. Then you both untie me. You’re half-naked already, and as you see your friend take off his hakama pants you decide to undress further as well. Holding your hand, all three of us walk naked into the bedroom.

I enter an entirely different atmosphere. Exquisite Japanese prints hang on the left of a massive wooden wardrobe. The dark red of the wood matches the bedspread of a very large yet minimalistic bamboo four poster bed. There are more cosy rugs on the floor, and rice paper lamps brush warm ambient light over a tea set, and several porcelain urns, vessels, and brushes on a low table to the right side. My eyes are drawn to metal rings that are screwed into all sides of the bed. I feel that surge of apprehension flood over me again. You have my hand though, I am safe. 

Your friend takes over; leads me to the little table and pushes me to my knees on the rug. I look at both of you as you stand there looking at me kneeling. “Allow me,“ says your friend, “This is something I have been wanting to do for a while.” He kneels down in front of me and lifts up my face to study me. Then, taking a big brush off the table he lifts the lid off the largest vessel. “Kiss her, please. We’ll get her ready for this together,” he tells you.

As you kneel down behind me once again you start to kiss my shoulders, my back. My neck. Your friend dusts my face with the white powder from the vessel. I smile leisurely, as I let myself sink into those gentle touches. When finished with the white, he opens a smaller urn. Inside, a bright red powder. Pinching some of it, he works on my cheekbones, then, from a small jug, he pours an oily liquid into the bowl. Stirring with the back of his brush, a woody jasminy smell dissipates into the space. As it enters our nostrils I feel your kisses intensifying. Your tongue traces my neckline. Your hands cup my boobs, and squeeze my nipples, making me sigh. Your friend takes the smallest brush and paints my eyebrows. 

“Close your eyes.“ I close them. His brush feels cold against my eyelids as I feel your hot breath whisper in my ear that you can’t wait to bury your cock inside me. I can feel the brush painting my lips as I arch my back and lean into you with my head. 

“Open your eyes,” he says, examining his work with a sensuous smile. I turn to you, you inhale. The smell I exude is light yet intoxicating, my face made up. You’re hard as you look at this geisha I now am. Your own little concubine. Your friend opens the big wardrobe. Rummaging sounds, then the return of your friend, lining up ropes and silks by the bed. "You're beautiful... And it's time now." 

I sit on the bed as your friend gives you a long silk scarf. You follow his lead as you each tie the knots around my ankles. He passes you silks, you follow his cues, leading silks over my body, through the rings in the bed, and back. In silence you tie knots together, slowly and softly creating this web over my limbs and body.

Without talking, you each kiss and trail my skin with your mouths. The sounds of the fabric, your kisses, our breathing, it is all strangely sexy. With each kiss, I am further restricted, more tightly bound, more aroused. My breathing has become shallow, and when at last your friend tightens his last knots behind me I feel my body arch almost unnaturally. My ankles and wrist pulled to the corners, my hips backwards, my nipples up. 

I’m in an orgasmic hyperextension. You whistle softly, impressed with your friends' work, and look at me greedily. You can’t resist and lick my ankles, inner thighs, follow the unnatural curve until you taste the wetness between my swollen lips. You linger and play until you hear me mewl for more.

“Face up first, yes? Pull that?” your friend asks

I feel my body stretch out and lift up, and catch my geisha doll reflection in the ceiling mirror I hadn’t noticed before. Is this me? I feel safe behind the mask I now wear.

I can see you are both very turned on. Your cocks are quivering, and I know I will have both of them, just that it’s not up to me how. Each of you looks at me, this time your friend offers, no, presents his cock to me. I oblige, I lick and suck and look at you as you trace my silk ropes and body, to my crotch. Looking at me you open my lips and thrust your fingers inside my wet pussy. I moan loudly. You penetrate me with your fingers and play with my hard little clit as you watch how I bring your friend to an almost orgasm.

He’s close and you are weirdly happy you get to share me with him. You take your own cock in your hand as you grab one of the silks to pull my hips towards you. I stop sucking him and look you in the eye as I fully enjoy your massive erection slide into me. We’re a threesome, but right then it’s just us two for a few seconds. 

Your friend slides underneath me, I’m only slightly hovering above him and feel his hardness and wet glans rub against my back as he squeezes my boobs and kisses my neck. I look up in the mirror at this spectacle, at this geisha, she is not me, and catch his eyes. I’m incredibly horny now. You fuck me, and your thrusts make my body slide over your friend’s, rubbing his hard cock until it's dripping with precum. He grabs my hips; he wants me too.

He spreads my cheeks, but. You won’t have that. I’m yours. 

I’m silently grateful as you look at him and tell him that’s out of bounds. Your friend smiles at you and reaches for one of the loops above him. As he pulls the loop I feel myself turn 180 degrees. I feel like an aerial silk acrobat. I yelp but am quickly back on task as your friend demands a kiss. He hornily kisses me and touches my nipples until he feels I hold my breath once more with desire. His hard cock is searching for my slippery entrance. His hands find it first. He feels my slit, gently slides in, aiming for my pebble. I sigh in his eager mouth, his tongue around mine. He is very skilled and I close my eyes enjoying his fingers masturbating with me.

I feel your touch on my spine. The warmth of your palms tracing my neck, kissing me, holding my neck, claiming my throat, gently yet possessively. 

“We’re going to fuck you, concubine mine,” you say. 

You kiss my neck, I feel and hear your breath, your whisperings, and I am so close to orgasm now. You are following my breaths, my moans, and sighs. You touch me where you know I want your touches to just edge me that little closer, as your friends' skillful fingers take me to the point of no return. You feel the wave come over me and grab a handful of my hair as you pull my head backwards.

As if rehearsed, you and your friend then take your cocks with one hand and guide my suspended body into the right position. You both thrust your still insanely erect cocks in my crevices and make me roll my eyes backwards as this overwhelming sense of erotic fullness comes over me. My body tries to adjust, my mind tries too, but with this sensory overload, I realise that neither will. I keep my eyes closed, trying to focus on one of the two cocks that are sliding in and out of me with such vigour.

Your cock in my arse demands my full attention first, with its massage of pressure points I didn’t even realise I had. My thoughts contemplate the intensity of it. It is a decisively raw emotion. This strange feeling of relief every time you pull back, then the rebuild of that equally raw feeling of pressure that is thought-consuming. I am entirely yours in this moment, mind, body, and soul, and so so thankful that you didn’t share this part of me with your friend.

The silks still gently but decisively lock me in, swinging in an increasingly wild rhythm as you both penetrate me voraciously. I manage to block out your cock, and focus on your friend’s. His cock is at such an angle that every time he pulls back my clit gets stroked just ever so delicately. I pinpoint my focus on just that moment.. and feel how I could actually get off again if this would go on. I am surprised at my own continuous arousal and smile at the thought of the horny bitch that I am.

All this delicious friction and pressure is making me squirt, the sticky liquid getting all over your friend, I can see he’s aware and loving it. We are in a trance, and listening to you both I can hear you are both so very close now, and I know that I am able to refocus on that delightful little clit moment I discovered.

“Let’s synchronise…” I whisper.

I say the words a little louder still, as I feel how neither of you can resist anymore and need to cum. You do simultaneously, yet so different, and I turn into myself too, finding the release I sought as well. You both give me your loads, as I gave you both myself.

The cadence slows, the swinging silks come to a still. Your friend pulls a loop, and I feel myself gently lower onto him. I turn around to kiss you, and you collapse on me, inhaling my scent, reconnecting, just us. Your friend comes in to spoon me. I look up at my white geisha face. The smudged aphrodisiacal red mouth in the mirror above me, the white is washed away by our sweat, then at my lovers, the same red substance on you two’s body parts.

My mask has now gone, I’m me. The three of us spent. Your friend, now my friend too.