Nureki Chimuo Archive

The words of Minomura-san introduced in the 21st chapter, “The Mindset of Calling Oneself a ‘Rope Master,” “Without a sense of shame, fear, and modesty, the ropes you bind with won’t have any sensuality,” are truly wonderful words, aren’t they? Somehow, I felt my thoughts on SM were succinctly expressed in this phrase, and it became one of my favorites. Thank you Mika Suzume-san. Please feel free to share your thoughts and impressions after reading it. 2007.12.05 濡木痴夢男のおしゃべり芝居 第二十四回 Nureki Chimuo’s Talking Theater Chapter 24 紐一本の快楽 The pleasure of a single rope This time, I had intended to continue writing about “the people who gave me ‘advice”’ from last time. At first, he’d put on this look like he was really into SM, enthusiastically running his “SM business,” and while he was making decent profits, he’d wait for the right moment to say, “Actually, I’m not that interested in SM at all. I’m really a perfectly normal person.” I wanted to write more about those people who would start saying things like that, then turn to me in a kindly tone and advise me: “If you keep getting involved in SM forever, you’ll become a real maniac. If you’re going to quit, now’s the time.” The editor-in-chief of that SM magazine who, right before my eyes, changed every instance of the kanji “繩” in my novel manuscript to katakana “ナワ”, he was actually one of the people who “advised” me, saying, “If you keep working so hard at this, you’ll turn into a real maniac.”

Some people even said worse things.

I think it’s only natural for an ordinary person to say that, and it’s only to be expected when told. (After all, it’s a job where I get paid to strip women naked, tie them up with ropes, and drip wax on them.) But since it’s someone who’s making a decent profit from “SM” saying it, there were times I just couldn’t stand it. “I never imagined I’d end up making a magazine like this, more vulgar and lowbrow than porn magazines. I’ve really hit rock bottom.” One editor said this. Thinking about these people, I could go on forever. I feel like writing more, but I’ll take a break from this story for now. I’ll write about it once again when I’ve regained my energy. Right now, suddenly, somehow, out of the blue, I felt like writing about Rakka-san. Writing about Rakka-san is, first and foremost, much more enjoyable. Rather than writing about those who deceived me (though of course the fool is the one who gets deceived) or betrayed me (though of course, the insensitive one is the one who gets betrayed), writing about my SM games with Rakka-san is ten times, a hundred times more enjoyable. So, I’ll save the rest of the story about “the people who ‘advised’ me” for a little later and write about Rakka-san instead. Oh no, not again, you might be thinking. Am I really going to have to read old man Nureki’s lovey-dovey stories? (Nothing’s more boring and infuriating than hearing about someone else’s romantic conquests. What the hell, you bastard? Getting all cocky at your age? Just drop dead already.) But hey, that’s the beauty of this kind of writing; if you don’t want to read it, you don’t have to. (A light press of the index finger on the button instantly erases the text) So it’s easier for me to write. Because I feel at ease, I can write the truth. I don’t have to write lies or flattery.

Only those with the broadest hearts and greatest generosity who are willing to indulge my lovey-dovey stories need to read this. The choice is yours. Completely yours. But why do I write about her as “Rakka-san,” using the honorific “san”? It’s a bit strange, isn’t it? In fact, even when speaking directly to the person in front of me, I address her as “Rakka-san” with deep affection and respect. When other people are present, for example when she’s doing her actual job, that goes without saying, but it’s the same even when it’s just the two of us alone in a love hotel room. At any time, no matter what, whether on the bed or off it (sometimes I do things under the bed), I address her with respect as “Rakka-san.” “Rakka, put on my socks for me..” I would never say such a thing. Would she be pleased? If I put it that way? No, I don’t think she’d be happy about it. I actually dislike women who are overly cheerful. One member of the design group led by Rakka-san, a veteran salesperson named W-san, found a new job opportunity. The entire team decided to divide the work and tackle it together. Incidentally, this W-san is not only a salesperson, but a photographer. My job involves planning, editing, and publishing a “town magazine” for a shopping district in a certain town along the Saikyo Line. Actually, I’ve also joined the editorial for this new town magazine as an external writer. My section will feature articles and photos introducing local attractions and historic sites throughout this area. W-san will be in charge of photography. I should mention that W-san is a woman. Everyone belonging to Rakka-san’s office is female. I had edited a PR magazine for a single company back in my early twenties, but creating a town magazine involving all the shops, companies, and other businesses in the entire town was a first for me, and I found it rather interesting. And by “businesses,” I mean places like hospitals, temples, and funeral homes too.

Since the sponsor is the Chamber of Commerce, payment seems reliable. If things go smoothly, it could become a solid source of income for Rakka-san’s office. I’ll also receive my manuscript fee, of course. While I’m certainly happy about the writing fee, what I’m even more grateful for is that from now on, I can proudly come and go from Rakka-san’s office during the day as a writer. If any staff member happens to see me and Rakka-san alone together when the office is closed, we can simply say we’re having a work meeting. As long as no one sees me with my lower half exposed, I can manage to fool them, as long as I bind Rakka-san with her hands behind her back and my hands on top of hers. Before you start talking about deception or whatever, the women in this office would never believe that a hideous old man like me and a young beauty like Rakka-san, who handles her work with such efficiency that she puts men to shame, could have some kind of strange relationship. They might not even believe it if they saw it with their own eyes. Rakka-san has a slender, long neck, elegant and beautiful legs, an erotically slim waist, and a strict attitude towards work. Even when communicating with staff, she speaks with a clear tone, bluntly and precisely. This may sound a bit self-deprecating, but I’m a short, potbellied, ugly old man. Clearly a bad match for anyone who sees me. Mika Suzume-san, whom I believe is the biggest fan of this “Talking Theater,” said something really clever. “That’s what makes it SM, isn’t it? That contrast is the real thrill of SM.” The expressions and their meanings differ somewhat, but when you get down to it, that’s pretty much the gist of it. The title of the 19th chapter of “Talking Theater,” “Rakka-san’s Difference,” was actually taken from Mika Suzume’s writing. Perhaps among the preferences of Rakka-san, “a masochistic tendency to derive pleasure from being bound by an ugly old man,” may exist.

If I were to write something like that, she would undoubtedly snap back immediately, “That’s not true! What are you talking about?” with her willow-like eyebrows arched in anger (this expression is old-fashioned too, isn’t it? Sounds like something an old person would say). Or maybe she’ll just grin and say, “What’s this old geezer talking about? He’s cracking one of his usual bad jokes again.” (Well, that’s probably more like it.) But why would a woman like her surrender so willingly, so painfully, so helplessly, so beautifully to a man like me? It’s strange, but women often say there’s something about the way I tie things that makes them feel good. That something, what is it? I don’t know, of course. To the women who clearly say that, I sometimes ask, “Why? Where exactly feels good, and how?” But, I have yet to meet a woman who can give me a clear answer to this question of mine. Tilting their heads, they say, “Hmm, I don’t know.” “I don’t know why, it just feels good,” she says. Just to be clear (those who know already know), I don’t touch their lower bodies. (Though there might be light hand contact when applying a thigh rope, etc.) In other words, just rope. Just tying. That is my pride, if you will. During the filming of SM videos in the adult video industry, I’ve sometimes been instructed by the director to insert a dildo-shaped vibrator. But that act, whether it’s meant to be “punishment” or “caressing,” I can never quite tell. It’s something I can’t bring myself to like, no matter how many times I do it. Well, it’s “work,” so if I’m told to do it, I’ll do it. But I just don’t find it interesting, and it doesn’t move me at all. But, I suppose it’s just a matter of “preference,” so there’s nothing to be done about it.

Once, the owner of a porn shop that stocked and sold many of my “Kinbiken Videos” watched one of those videos in his store and said to me with a look of utter disbelief. “Just with rope, huh? I’d heard about it, but seeing it like this, I can really tell she’s coming. I’m surprised.” This is my boastful story. But, according to the “industry,” videos where they use vibrators to make women squeal and scream actually sell better. Therefore, this boast of mine doesn’t actually serve as a selling point. In fact, it’s a liability. No, I didn’t start writing this chapter just to say something like this. I wanted to write about how I couldn’t understand, how it was a mystery, that a woman like Rakka-san, intelligent, cultured, well-bred, refined, proud, and highly capable at her job, would willingly let a poor, insignificant man like me tie her up whenever and wherever I wanted, whenever I felt like tying her. This is a question I ask myself. I always think about it. It really is strange. Perhaps there really is something about my ropes that gives women pleasure, making them wear expressions and adopt poses of erotic rapture. Well, even as I approach eighty, I still get requests for “bondage work,” so there must be “something” that meets the demand of “professionals.” To be honest, I really don’t know what that “something” is myself. “Why does it feel good? Where does it feel good, and how?” I ask Rakka-san this over and over. “Tell me, please. I’m begging you, tell me. I need to know.” I keep asking, over and over. It’s practically become my catchphrase. But she’s too shy to answer. As I’ve written before, her reactions to the ropes I tie her with (though lately I’ve been using handmade cotton ropes when binding her) are extraordinary.

The moment her wrists were bound tightly behind her back, she nearly fainted. Her body went limp like a person without bones, unable to sit in the chair. She slid down, slipping and sliding, until she lay sprawled on the floor. Looking at her expression, naturally, both eyes are blissfully closed, seemingly lost in a state of ecstasy. Her entire being, body and soul, is surrendered to Nureki Chimuo, her expression and posture saying, “Do with me as you will.” My sense of superiority as the “Rope Master” at that moment is unparalleled, the absolute best. It’s thrilling. It’s more stimulating and pleasurable than inserting one’s own genitals into a woman’s vagina and rubbing them together (which is probably why they’re called maniacs, I suppose). I’ve tied her up over twenty times now, yet this state of intoxication remains exactly the same as the very first time, I never grow accustomed to it. So for me, it feels fresh every single time. Because her reactions are always fresh, I never grow tired or bored. I just want to tie her up again and again, and my desire only intensifies. If I ever grew accustomed to it, the desire would fade. Come to think of it, I believe I have bound women’s bodies driven by the desire to please them, to give them pleasure, and to see the expression on their faces. What I do, tying women up and suspending them, is undeniably sadistic behavior to anyone who sees it, yet my heart is that of a “servant” who offers women pleasure. (Of course, my partners are exclusively women who are commonly referred to as masochists.) I dislike the term “slave,” a hackneyed slang word that, like “trainer” or “rope master,” has lost all its stimulation and emotion, so I use the peculiar term “servant.” But it’s not just the word; I am a “servant” from the bottom of my heart. No matter how cruel my actions may appear, I can only ever be a “servant.” For fifty long years now, the people in the “industry” who have hired me as a “restraint technician” may vaguely appreciate this attitude of mine as a “servant.” So naturally, I end up calling Rakka-san “Rakka-san” with the honorific “-san.” Perhaps Rakka-san, too, sees through this “servant” nature of mine and lets me bind her willingly, just to make me “serve” her. I absolutely never do anything a woman dislikes. When I realize she’s pretending to dislike it but actually wants me to do it, I’ll do anything to serve her.

So then, my true nature is M, and Rakka-san’s is S, I suppose. No, I feel categorizing people as S or M is fundamentally wrong to begin with. With ulterior motives to tie her hands behind her back, I entered her office, waiting for the moment we’d be alone to seize the opportunity. At that moment, I was clearly consumed by sadistic desires. On a Sunday afternoon, sitting alone at the design desk in the empty office, I casually placed two “strings” meant just for her right before her eyes. She caught a glimpse of it and exclaimed, “Huh? What? What is this? No, no! What is it? I don’t know!” Watching her chest heave with shame aroused me, and I became acutely aware of the thing between my legs instantly hardening. At that time, I was clearly sadistic. But I don’t really understand. There’s also a genuine desire to serve her, to somehow satisfy her hidden desires. My burning lust is a chaotic mix of S and M, raging out of control, I can’t make heads or tails of it. Mika Suzume-san’s request for feedback captures this psychological state quite well. “When delving into SM, I find it difficult to express and feel frustrated.” That feeling of frustration is aptly and skillfully captured. You know it’s there, yet it remains just out of reach. Just when you think you’ve got it, it darts away or vanishes. Mika Suzume-san’s feedback contains sharp expressions regarding SM that make you go, “whoa!” "There's SM that’s no good even if you spank hard enough to leave bruises or perform acrobatic suspensions, and there’s SM that feels good even if you’re tied up simply with a single handkerchief.” That part, for instance, is a truly memorable quote. When I bind Rakka-san, it’s just with a single “rope,” exactly like Mika Suzume-san says, “just one handkerchief.” However, the SM effect hidden within this single cord is powerful. More powerful than suspension, whipping, or dripping hot wax. After all, she’s practically fainting.

With just a single rope, how can one sink so deeply into the pleasure of being bound? Until I hear it from her lips, I will not cease binding her with this one rope.