Saturday, January 2, 2016

Tie Me Chicago III

 Happy New Year to All


Arriving in my apartment I find myself firing up my computer, going to the internet. I do a Google search... ‘Tie Me Chicago’. How can I resist learning more?

Well, it seems ‘Tie Me Chicago’ is not technically in Chicago but instead located in a staid old suburb, Highland Park on the north shore. There is a website, a picture of a turn of the century mansion. The business is purportedly a retailer of art and photography. As expected, Midori Matsumoto, appearing even more alluring... in a sinister manner in my mind... is the owner and master artist.

Examples of her work are displayed, photos of the human form restrained in what appears to be yard after yard of imposing hemp... rough and wiry. The depictions bring horripilation, for though there are no graphic displays of genitalia, beneath the many strands it is apparent the models are all sans clothing The feeling of gruff rope must mentally overpower, one must quickly conclude. I know having just hours before succumbed to the woman’s mastery.  

Most thought provoking are the facial expressions of the models. There is surrender, yet there is peacefulness, as if there has been a long struggle ending in both mental and physical capitulation.

I read. The so termed Shibari is more appropriately known as Kinbaku. That the Nawashi... rope artist... transforms the human body into a dynamic living sculpture. Being immobilized, thoroughly restrained, is a shared meditative practice, deep relaxation for flexibility of mind and body, expression of power exchange... intimate erotic restraint.

Indeed, in certain photos, Midori the Nawashi stands next to the model, her gloating look that of a big game hunter standing over a mammoth fanged and clawed beast which has fallen to her proficiency as a huntress.

As opposed to the embarrassing afternoon escapade at the county fair grounds, most of the models are very attractive girls... and in most depictions the nakedness, genitalia cleverly concealed in knots or by a folded limb, is suspended from large ring, or limb, or some other overhead fixture, enhancing the portrayal of the sense of helplessness.

The photo reprints are large... and expensive... the talents of Miss Midori Matsumoto not to be procured cheaply. I picture her work tastefully adorning the livingroom wall of some wealthy epicure.

As I click, I learn. But something seems amiss. At the county fair, Miss Midori Matsumoto specified that her artistry was to be demonstrated on the male. I recall her words... I’ll tie up any man and have him restrained within five minutes.    

Yet the website is rife with female models. Curious. Plus, she invited me to visit, suggesting more intricacy... hemp on bare skin. And in viewing the delicate flesh of the website models, the skill does seem impressive. Bound by the dilettante, the hemp can obviously leave burns and ligature marks, and the girls are professionals, no doubt needing unblemished skin for continuing assignments.

Then I note on the screen a very small tab. It’s unlabeled, as if the web designer deliberately desired it to be overlooked. I click of course, having fully explored the main pages of quirky erotic art and photography.

Males! Young, muscular, physiques chiseled... as if from stone. All in bondage... all displaying that serene look of surrender. But most notably, as opposed to the depictions of the female forms, Miss Midori Matsumoto stands with each one, her look tauntingly triumphant... having taken down the fiercest beast in the jungle. And she wears not hunting apparel, but leather... black, tight, perfectly outlining a wondrously proportioned physique, the breasts no longer cloaked by a loose blouse.... glands firm and upstanding as suspected.   

Most shockingly, as I view photo after photo, there is no attempt to modestly cloak the genitals as with the female scenes. And many of the male models are erect, particularly those in suspension, the tension no doubt intended to foment stiffness. Yes, erect and of size. In one or two the Nawashi Midori gloats, male virility fully under feminine power, it both excites her and amuses, and she veils not her enjoyment.

My reactions are many and contrasting. I sense rage... for some reason desiring vengeance... the leather clad conqueror should in turn be vanquished. But then comes empathy and calm... the tranquility sensed after a hard fought battle lost... and with that more recollections... of my youth... of the taunts and subsequent comeuppance of Matt the Brat... of Eve... Amazon Eve... imposing Eve... she who stripped and spanked...   

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