I’ve seen girls braiding their hair. It’s a meditative state, or at the very lea

I’ve seen girls braiding their hair. It’s a meditative state, or at the very least, a distraction while they share conversation. It’s the movement of hand over hand, lock of hair over lock of hair, that serves both to calm and centre the mind.  And, being who I am, I can’t ignore the overtones of bondage, restriction, and restraint. Practice, in a way, for the way that I’m going to make you feel once we’re behind closed doors, and your clothes are a puddle on the floor, creating a dirty mix with your resolve. But I share your calm, that moment to mine. When I tie you up, knots forming around your body, rope layering itself like a second skin, it’s easy to let the mind cast adrift, untethered, but, far more pleasantly, unthinking. The rush of thoughts eking their way out of my ear, only to clamber down my arm and run up your chest, find their way in through your mouth, your nose, your ears. As my mind calms, your mind races. Cause and effect, mon petit choufleur.   I meditate my way, and you are overwhelmed with yours. As I empty, you fill, and it is that state that I want to cultivate in you. Have your brain entirely flooded, unable to think, let alone think of exactly what I’m doing to you. And then, when I bring you to where I want you, you have that catastrophic release, the dam bursting, everything flooding out of you until you, too, are emptied. The catharsis of an emptied mind. A braid undone. Bondage unravelled.  -- source link
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