The Empty Ropes

I can’t stop staring at them. I mean, I watch the ropes, and I see her within, with that wonderful look on her face—a mix of wonder, fear, and sheer excitement. But she’s not there anymore. And all I can see now are the empty ropes. I miss her. I miss her badly.

Her name was Jane. She was as vanilla as you can imagine. And that was perfect for me. You see, I’ve been kinky my entire life. So, I usually partnered with people from the community. And it’s great to be with someone who shares your enthusiasm—don’t get me wrong on that one. But I’d always longed for someone to teach her everything I know. I always wanted to initiate someone into the realm of kink. And Jane was perfect for that.

At first, it was marvelous. The sheer joy of discovery frequently led her to euphoria. That came as no surprise to me. After all, the most extreme practice she had experienced before was handcuffs on her wrists. You can imagine her reaction to bondage and suspension.

And that’s when I failed. I got too enthusiastic, and I rushed things. They say that “only fools rush in,”  and they’re right! I demanded more than Jane was capable or willing to live, and I screwed things up. 

You see, it was no longer a matter of mutual enjoyment. Things were still pleasurable for me, but not for her, not anymore. And I failed to see it. Or I was so selfish that I didn’t want to see it. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Jane is gone.

I’m in pain. I can tell you that. However, I think there’s light at the end of the tunnel. And if I have hope, it’s because I have learned. You cannot rush things. The most beautiful things in life take time. Jane was the most beautiful thing in my life, and I ruined my relationship with her because I rushed things. And now all I have is a bunch of empty ropes. Learn a lesson from that.