Rope And Altered Reality

Spinning around in my head are a million ideas, a flood of deviant desires surging back. Is it sub frenzy? No, not quite. But if I weren’t mindful of my thought processes, and if life wasn’t so full, and if I wasn’t quite so fussy over who gets a piece of my precious time, I think it could easily be so. This morning my mind has slipped into wanting the altered reality that can come from rope.

What is this altered reality and how is it connected with rope?

I would describe rope space as an altered reality, a headspace reached by an intense cocktail of happy hormones smothering my synapses. Very similar in presentation to subspace, pain space, Dom space… These spaces are usually accessed when there is a deeply trusting connection, and an intense scene to dive deeply into. I say usually as this is my experience. Though some bottoms and bunnies float off into (rope) space with barely a nudge, I’m not in that group. I’m guarded, always wanting to keep my wits about me, just in case…

This strong, independent and bloody minded woman is usually ‘on’, but occasionally it is possible to rip the carpet out from under my feet. With rope or pain, and very rarely just words, people have been known to tip me over the edge of the cliff into my very own altered reality.

It always surprises me when it happens. I can be chatty and laughing and fully aware and then…

Nothing. I’m glassy eyed, drooling and giving all the appearance of being entirely absent.

The last time 1001011 sent me there I remember ‘resting’ across his lap as he untied me. Of course, me being me, I was trying to be helpful, and I had my head raised, my neck tense, trying to make the process as easy as possible for him. A firm press on the side of my head, relaxing me down, releasing me from my ‘job’ of helping and I was free to swoop off into the weird and wonderful world.

Personally, I lose the ability to talk.

When I’m on the brink my sentence formulation slows, I lose the ability to conjure up words that would help my thoughts make sense. Push me over the brink and I become non-verbal. I know this so will always communicate with a rigger beforehand, come up with a way to let them know if something isn’t right, or if I need anything. Thumbs up, thumbs down, flashy hands, shaking a fist, grunting… All have been useful in the past.

Present but also absent, I have full awareness of my surroundings. Not only that but I love when the person in charge talks to me. Ask me questions, you can send me deeper. Trying to construct the answers while in rope space, let alone speak them, draws me further into that reality of altered perceptions. Add a little pain and rope space will swallow me whole; twist the ropes or pull my hair or manipulate my pressure points.

(Please note, when someone is in sub-, rope-, or pain-space it is not an OK time to gain consent. Keep both them and yourself safe, and stick to the pre arranged boundaries.)

Returning to the present. What works for me?

After you’ve spaced out through happy hormones, how can you land?

I don’t have a one size fits all approach to aftercare, or so it seems. I’m evolving, and discovering new aspects of myself. What I have found most consistently helpful in my landing is a quiet space, a blanket for warm and a drink to hand when I am with it again. Oh, and a crunchy, usually savoury, snack. But Haribo works too. No fuss, no conversation (remember, chatting to a spacey barefoot sends her deeper) and little physical contact.

The problem with photographs…

There are pictures of me in rope space, I even shared a post documenting my descent into this altered reality. But the feelings don’t translate well to a static moment captured on screen. I love the rope scene that 1001011 and I enjoyed above. It’s not the first picture I’ve shared from this evening of rope, but it is one of the last ones of the day. I was melting into the heated blanket beneath me, following a twisted and beautifully painful suspension. I’d asked to feel fierce and strong. That is exactly what he delivered. And then he broke me. In a beautiful way.

But you can’t see that in the photo. Not the original anyway. But with a few little tweaks and treats I found the altered reality to my rope photo. While edits are easy to overdo, and I often shy away from them, this feels like a wonderful representation of how present-yet-distant I feel in rope space, pain space, sub space.

Join me as I fly by the seat of my pants for the A-Z April Blogging Challenge 2023. You can find all of my posts for the month here. And you can also find previous years here. 2019 came first. I skipped 2020. 2021 was a full month of photography themed posts. And 2022 was a sparse collection of Q&A style writing, but there were plenty of boobs!.