Fire and Ice

Contrast is the spice of life. Monotony is the beginning of death. Everything in life changes, and frequently, it goes from one extreme to the other. From the bleakness of winter to the color of spring, everything swings from one state of things to another, completely different. It’s one of life’s foundations. And it’s the reason why I like to play with fire and ice.

By fire, I mean rope, or more specifically, the friction caused by rope against my skin. By ice, I mean ice cubes—yes, innocent and ordinary ice cubes—that, in the hands of my partner, become a means of seduction and a source of endless pleasure.

Since I was a child, I have liked to play with contrast. I used to taste candy and, immediately after, lemon. I’ll have a zip of coffee, and then bite into a chili. I’ll do whatever it takes to feel taken from one extreme to the other by my senses and emotions.

So, when we’re doing a Shibari scene together, I can barely wait for him to pull the ropes just a little. I’m totally restrained, and I know I can’t prevent feeling the friction all over my skin. And I love it! Besides, he knows it is a matter of quality, not quantity, so he pulls just a little, just enough to feel the harsh contact of the rope against my body.

And then, when there are a few friction marks over my body, he will bring a bucket of cold water where ice cubes are floating, as if they were about to jump into a drink. He brings them closer to me, and I begin to squirm with anticipation.

So, my advice is this: whenever you feel bored, try bringing up some contrast. It usually works.

This is the story of how I play Fire and Ice with Shibari.