My Nights Getting Tied Up

While I have always been in queer
relationships—even in the straight world—I haven’t always
been having queer sex. I played with crossdressing boys, group sex,
polyamory, and bondage from an early point in my sex life, and while
that was all (generally) fun, it still fit into a predefined notion of
what sex was. Even with female-bodied people, sometimes the sex was
still very straight, because we were trying to achieve something that
looked normal.

But there is nothing hotter than queer sex. There is no insert tab A
into slot B. And operating without a manual—pushing boundaries,
navigating uncharted waters—is the most exciting thing about it.
Though it has taken me a while to break free and find my own brand of
kink, these days I’m very happily exploring the world of rope bondage
with the girl that I love. Why?

• Girls are hot. Duh. Why do you think creepy dudes have
been trying to draw, sculpt, and photograph us naked for centuries?
Because we’re hot. Girl-on-girl action is hot. And I’m not talking
about drunk sorority girls on spring break or the sex in “lesbian” porn
with terrifying shots of acrylic nails digging into all the wrong
places. I’m talking about raw and honest passion between women. The
pure carnal intensity of girls fucking that taps into another world.
The knowledge of our bodies that we aren’t supposed to have. And there
is nothing timid or lacking about having your hand deep inside another
person who shares a similar body to yours while she comes so hard you
think that your wrist is going to snap.

Even I fall prey to the stereotypes about queer relationships
between girls sometimes. Just last week I went to pick up a free box
spring (more height! More leverage! More positions!) and had a
hilarious and campy moment with the self-identified
vegetarian-Unitarian-lesbitarian who generously donated it to us. I was
so excited to have something besides a sad mattress in my bedroom that
I forgot to bring anything to secure our new acquisition to the car, so
she had to generously donate some gardening twine, too. While we were
tying the box spring to the roof, she got frustrated by my lack of
preparedness and asked my partner and me “what kind of lesbians” we
were—and proceeded to show me what a slipknot was. We giggled
about it the whole drive home. But the encounter left me wondering how
many potlucks and boring political conversations my new box spring has
seen. Here’s hoping the thing isn’t full of lesbian-bed-death juju.

• Ropes are hot. The aesthetics of Japanese rope bondage
appeal to my sensibilities as a designer, as well as my OCD tendencies.
I can totally geek out on its dedication to maintaining the perfect
balance of visual and physical tension. Tying knots, looping the rope
so it balances itself, accentuating form with the punctuation of a
line—all that is mentally stimulating and thrilling to me. Other
forms of restraints haven’t provided that extra edge. (Sorry, leather
community. I tried. I love the enthusiasm, not the look… though if
you made me a custom, cream-colored, gold-studded harness to match my
new heels, I wouldn’t complain.) When I’m in the ropes, the feeling of
being made into an object of beauty and knowing that my partner
specifically chose the method and placement of my bind to appeal to her
visual desire gets me incredibly wet.

• DIY is hot. Picking up your sex toys at the hardware
store feels delightfully devious and liberating. No one is going to
wonder why you are picking out lengths of nylon cord or clothesline
unless they are privy to the game. It’s comparatively cheap, there are
many styles and colors to choose from, and you can make it your own.
Plus it’s always good to have a versatile tool. Not only can you tie a
girl up in a variety of ways, you can throw the rope into your car for
all your moving and camping needs (would have been handy when picking
up that box spring).

• Imagination is hot. I spent around four months in and
out of sublets, house-sitting, and couch-crashing last year, and then
another seven in an apartment with barely any furniture. Without a bed
frame and with most of my stuff in storage, I had to get creative.
Ropes and restraints opened up a lot of potential, and soon I couldn’t
look at objects without considering how much weight and tension they
could hold. Door handles, window pulls, drawer knobs, chair legs,
railings, and even bicycles should fear me. There is nothing that makes
me melt more than tying a girl to her Italian steel frame. That’s some
serious bike porn.

• Power play is hot. Okay, I admit it—I have
control issues (again, I’m a designer). It’s hard for me to let go and
not try to plan or see ahead. But when you are consensually at the
mercy of another person’s whims, you have no choice but to follow. It
is incredibly liberating. The dialogue of power dynamics between women
is especially exciting, because—unlike when men tie up women or
women tie up men—there are no ingrained social roles. There’s no
unconscious cultural privilege to get in the way. Being dominated by
another girl is empowering. It may sound strange, but it’s true. I am
definitely more submissive and I enjoy the luxury of being a bit of a
pillow queen, but it wasn’t always something I knew how to appreciate.
It wasn’t until after I got comfortable fucking others, teasing them to
a breaking point, experiencing this rush of power and how it made every
nerve in my body sharpen, that I was able to understand it.

• Tension is hot. The pinpricking sensation of rope
pulled taut against the skin. Your arms tied together behind you, your
body bent at the waist, your knees buckling as you get fucked so hard
you can’t hold yourself up—counterbalanced by your partner’s
support. Letting go and letting yourself sink deeper into it, rocking
on your heels. Your body simultaneously straining against the pressure
of the restraints and releasing into orgasm. The extra wave of
sensation after being released and the awkward rush of blood to your
freed limbs. Feeling the phantom hold of the bind for days after.
Admiring the marks and pressing the bruises from your lover’s bites to
remind you of the adrenaline and endorphin rushes that pulsed through
you. You can’t tell me that’s not hot.

• Trust and love are hot. It may not be everyone’s
thing, but it’s definitely mine.