Nureki Chimuo Archive

Mika Suzume-san, the foremost reader of this “Talking Theater” and someone who always gives me stimulating and appropriate advice, shared this impression with me: “There’s also SM that can be felt even when simply tied up with a single handkerchief.” That is indeed the case. I wrote about this last time, but I’ll write about it again. Even if you suspend a woman from a height using using a dozen or so visibly coarse hemp ropes, beat her so fiercely her butt swells, expose her anus and thrust an enema syringe inside, injecting copious amounts of glycerine solution, if no M aura emanates from her body or expression, then no matter how bizarre it appears, it remains a spectacle for ordinary people to say, “Wow, wow, how can she do that?” No matter how extreme the forms of torment we witness, it is not what we call SM. For it to become SM, the aura of M must be cultivated there; otherwise, we cannot become intoxicated. Watching a vibrator forced into a woman’s body hung upside down doesn’t arouse me in the slightest, nor does it give me an erection. Even seeing a man twist his wrist into her forcibly spread labia, I might think, “Wow, that’s something, how can he do that? Doesn’t that hurt?” I might be impressed, but I’m not moved. In other words, I’m shocked, but I don’t feel sexually excited. After all, what I need is that M aura. (Some might say no, they don’t need an M aura. They just want to see a woman relentlessly tormented, crying out in agony while looking utterly wretched; and not just watch, but actually try it themselves. But the pleasure such people derive and the pleasure we derive, though seemingly similar, are fundamentally different. It’s precisely because they seem similar that we find them troublesome and a nuisance. I intend to write about such unpleasant experiences from time to time going forward.)

We cannot accept abusive acts that mimic SM as SM. If it does not emit the M aura, we do not wish to call it SM. Before I knew it, the conversation had gone off on a tangent. This time, inspired by Mika Suzume-san’s words, “Even tying someone with a single handkerchief can be SM,” I thought I’d write a little more detail about the “rope” I always use when tying Rakka-san. When I use “bondage” for others to see, I use hemp rope. But for the pleasure of bondage that I never show anyone (meaning when I’m not hired for work), I use cotton “cords” that I keep hidden away. This cord measures 160 centimeters in length and 4 centimeters in width, forming a pouch-like shape. In other words, it offers the texture of two cords in one. The edges are neatly machine-stitched. When held in the hand, it has that characteristic cotton feel, slightly thick and slightly rough, which is quite nice. Rather than pouch-shaped, it might be more accurate to call it belt shaped. This cord, if we’re talking about belts, is indeed, a long, narrow belt. About five or six years ago, I went on an overnight location shoot for a video drama at an old hot spring inn deep in the mountains of Koshu. I’ve stayed at that inn many times for filming, so I’ve become close with the proprietress there. “Madam, there’s a closet at the back of the large hall upstairs filled with lots of cute cords dyed with pine, bamboo, and plum patterns. Are those no longer used?” I asked one night. “Ah, now we use Western-style pajamas with strings for nightwear now, so we don’t use those anymore. It used to be the string for the women’s guest yukata, you see.” “If you’re not going to use it, would you mind if I have it? I really like that little red pine-bamboo-plum flower and the black background pattern, I’d love to have it.” I said. “If you want it, I’ll give it to you. No need to pay.” she said. I offered to pay, but the proprietress refused to accept it. So, I got twenty of those cords for free.

At the time, I hadn’t intended to use this cord for “tying.” Its simple, rustic pattern of red, black, and white is charmingly balanced. And it feels wonderful to the touch. Soft and supple, it nestles comfortably around my fingers. Just holding it lightly in my hand and gazing at the pattern soothes my heart and lifts my spirit. Simple and pure, with the warmth of handmade craftsmanship and that quintessential cotton feel. The slightly faded areas from use are quite nice too. If it feels this good, I thought, it might be okay to use for “bondage.” That means the person being tied up (if she’s a woman who enjoys being tied up) will definitely feel good about it. However, it cannot be used for “business” purposes. As restraints featured in photos or video, they lack any sense of roughness. Their appearance is simply too adorable. I kept that flower-patterned cord hidden away, never using it. Occasionally, this cord peeks out from among the bags holding my vast collection of ropes. When it does, I pick it up as if to say, “Hey, long time no see,” and it soothes my heart. I don’t think I’ve ever had a particular fondness for collecting or admiring such things, but this cord alone, whenever I see it, strangely softens my heart and makes me happy. When tying Rakka-san, I started with hemp rope. We used new hemp rope that was sufficiently softened, though not the kind typically used on film sets. That’s right, I initially planned to use lots of hemp, take Rakka-san as my model, and practice by trying to replicate the techniques from Dr. Itatsu’s “Ancient Rope-Tying Techniques.” For that reason, we once copied the photo pages from Dr. Itatsu’s book and took the copies with us when we went to a love hotel together. But before studying it, we became engrossed in our own private “game,” drowning in it. In the end, we accomplished nothing, neither study nor research. When a woman like her radiates such an intense, powerful aura of masochism, I simply can’t focus on my studies or research anymore. (To avoid any misunderstanding, let me clarify: the M aura Rakka-san emits towards me is silent and motionless. That is, she simply sits on a sofa in the corner of a love hotel room,

saying nothing, not moving a muscle. Precisely because it’s an aura emitted in silence, it’s intense, deep, and possesses incredible pull.) Incidentally, let’s look up the definition for “aura” in the foreign language dictionary published by Shueisha. “Aura.” A fluid substance believed to emanate from living beings. A term from spiritualism. It is said that photographs can be taken using special fluorescent plates. A distinctive atmosphere. A subtle mood. That’s it. But this alone is insufficient. In Rakka-san’s case, I feel there is something akin to magic, something that transcends common sense. The aura she exudes is completely unimaginable from the resolute, stern demeanor she displays while working as a designer in her daytime office. I’ve gone off on a tangent again. Well, what can you do? I’m laughing at myself. It was about hemp rope. It was said that Rakka-san also used hemp rope at first. I must write that she stopped using it partway through. No, before that, what happened to studying “Ancient Rope-Tying Techniques?” Actually, I haven’t done it yet. As I’ve written repeatedly, simply grabbing her wrist and pulling it behind her back causes her entire body to go limp. She gets faint and collapses. Experimenting with “Ancient Rope-Tying Techniques,” which uses complex techniques and many ropes, is simply beyond me. I can’t even manage to stand her upright with her torso straight. But I haven’t given up. I believe the day will come where I can experiment on her. Rakka-san, mark my words; someday I will definitely experiment with “Ancient Rope-Tying Techniques.” Remember that. And I stopped using hemp rope on her. I decided to stop using hemp rope and instead use the cotton cord with the floral pattern I had been saving. The reason.

The way I restrain her is that while we’re having normal conversations alone, suddenly, though it’s neither sudden nor unexpected, as I’m waiting for the moment, I grab her wrist and twist it behind her back. At first, I tied the rope over her everyday clothes. I like this kind of dramatic prologue. “Shall I tie you up?” “Yeah, tie me up.” That’s far too bland. No thrill. No hint of SM. But when you put hemp rope over your clothes, after the “game” is over, the fine hemp fibers clinging to their clothes is a real pain. You can’t brush them off with a brush or hand, so you have to use duct tape to peel the fibers off. If you don’t remove them carefully, the hemp fibers stand out so much you can’t even ride the train without looking like a slob. Tying with that cord I got from the inn in Koshu eliminates that worry. However, there is another reason I stopped tying with hemp rope and started using the cord. Having carefully preserved it with such devotion, this rope truly lives up to my expectations. It feels good even for the one being tied. Twisting both wrists behind her back, I wrapped the rope around them just once, cinching it perfectly, tightening snugly. The sensation and feel of this tightening are exquisitely satisfying. Better than hemp rope. The density of the binding is just right. Tie the wrists just once, then pull them up as high as possible, then wrap the cord from around the arms to the chest. The way it digs into the arms and the tightness against the chest, this cord does so much better than hemp rope. It bites in tight, grips her body solidly, stays still, never returning to its original state. The cord clings to her body, whispering to her. “Ahh, that feels good!” I can hear the cord whispering. This cord is no ordinary cord. Right, from now on, let’s call this cord that binds Rakka-san a “Flower Cord.” Yeah, I have to admit, that’s a pretty good name. As I wrap the flower cord around Rakka-san’s chest and tighten it, in rhythm with the cord’s breath, Rakka-san’s breasts press against the inside of her bra, “It feels so good!” she moans. Wrap it around her chest once, and bring it back behind her again, and this 160 centimeter flower cord will end right around her wrist.

For hemp rope, you wrap it around the chest twice, but the flower cord achieves the same effect in a single wrap. Effect refers to the sensation of tightness experienced by the bound party. To put it politely, it’s the pleasure derived from being restrained. In other words, this flower cord is made like a long, pouch-like belt. Furthermore, since cotton fibers have a finer texture than hemp fibers, the density of the constriction is also finer and more substantial. Wrap the flower cord around her chest, tighten it, then bring it back to her back and lightly fasten it near her wrist. Hemp rope won’t stay tied unless you bind it tightly, but the flower cord stays neatly in place simply by slipping it between the strands. This is because it’s made of cotton, with its fine fiber density. Using just one flower rope, the takate kote comes together with surprising elegance, even to my own eyes. No, it’s just my tying technique. The way Rakka-san is bound is also quite something. She never lets her wrists drop from the high position. It’s this very spirit of Rakka-san that makes her M aura radiate an ever more captivating light. Rakka-san didn’t utter a single word or make a sound. She didn’t move a muscle. She remained seated in her chair, her face and chest pressed against the design table. And at this very moment, I am erect. The painful yet delicate sight of her wrists tightly bound, rising nearly to her neck, the beautiful whiteness of her ten fingers stretched straight upwards. In my weakened state, the thing between my legs rejuvenated by young, hot blood, miraculously becoming erect. “More than love or romance, it’s about SM, isn’t it?” Mika Suzume-san remarked, hitting the nail on the head. It was a sharp observation and analysis. That’s right. That’s certainly true. Love and romance alone won’t make an aging body get hard.

A sensation distinct from love, distinct from infatuation. Yet here lies the raw power of SM, imbued with the scent of love, yet also carrying the odor of infatuation. Stripped naked and suspended in midair, legs spread wide as a vibrator is inserted and set to pulse, my body remains utterly unresponsive to this scene. Yet, gazing at Rakka-san, sprawled face-down on the table, her wrists bound in a takate kote, and her ten white fingers, I feel an M aura trembling with soul, and my cock hardens. What on earth is it about women who, fully clothed and bound with a single flower cord, keeps her face down in silence, makes me feel a far stronger M aura than the naked female body hung upside down in a cruel position using nearly twenty hemp ropes. To say that liking or disliking a particular shape is merely a matter of personal preference would make the matter simple. Even if you factor in the personal feelings of liking or disliking, have you ever considered the aura of SM? Let me repeat, cruelty alone does not define SM. And by the way, this is something I say in a hushed voice, bondage is an art. This is inside Rakka-san’s office. Today is Sunday, and none of the female staff members are here. Only Rakka-san and I are near her large desk at the very back of the office, separated by a partition. There’s another thing about being bound by just a single flower cord. I extend my right hand, and with the tip of a single finger, gently trace her spine through her clothes. She groaned, and her entire body convulsed. She was sensitive. Or perhaps her whole body had now become an erogenous zone. Twice, three times, I lightly trace my fingertips along her spine. She trembled, shuddered. And then she couldn’t hold back any longer. The strength left her hips, and she slid down from the chair. I supported her body in a hurry. Though the floor is carpeted, a proper fall would cause injury. In fact, she falls from the chair with such force that it wouldn’t be surprising if she were injured. That’s why I assume she’s fainted.

Even if you try to make her sit on the carpet, her spine is limp and her lower back has no strength. She just flops over. After all, her hands are bound tightly behind her back. She might even injure her arms if she falls sideways. I hurriedly support her body and gently lie her down. I take off her shoes. Then I take off my own shoes. The all-female staff keeps the place spotless, and the carpet is pristine. I sit down on the carpet, wrap my arms around her neck, and suck on her lips. She doesn’t resist. Even as I keep sucking on her lips, she remains unresponsive. Not even a breath. This lack of reaction in this stimulation makes me feel good. The act of sucking a woman’s lips to my heart’s content while she’s unresponsive is quite stimulating. There’s also a sense of superiority in having made her pleasure-faint with just a single rope. “Pleasure-faint” is a term I coined myself. But she actually hadn’t fainted. “Open your mouth,” I say, and she parts her lips. I thrust my tongue inside her mouth. I lick around inside her mouth with my tongue. Her tongue entwines with mine. I get harder and harder. I sucked her tongue hard, licking her lips persistently while my hands groped her breasts. I grabbed them through her clothes. The other advantage of binding with a single flower cord lies precisely here. Her clothes are easy to remove. You can unhook the back clasp and slide the dress off her shoulders. You can push her bra up to expose her breasts. Binding the upper body tightly with hemp rope makes this impossible. Since only a single flower cord is binding the chest, achieving a semi-naked state requires no excessive force. And the contrast between her disheveled clothing, bound tightly in a takate kote by a single flower cord, with all the exposed white skin dazzlingly beautiful and erotic. To call this an SM scene would be accurate; it was indeed an SM sight brimming with masochistic beauty. Rakka-san's half-naked form radiated an even more intense and bewitching aura of submission at that moment. I lift the hem of her skirt. The following comments were submitted by Mika Suzume-san and are reproduced with her permission. Expressions from these comments were quoted in the 27th chapter.

What a delightful story. …And as usual, I ended up writing another long comment, because I wanted to ask you how I was moved, delighted, and inspired. Fortunately you don’t seem to mind, so I’m glad. Without the aura of M being cultivated, we cannot get intoxicated. Sensei, you’re absolutely right. The term “M aura” really hits home, doesn’t it? I nodded vigorously, my thoughts drifting to that indescribable joy of M, which could only be called an M aura. The M aura doesn’t assert itself as intensely as a sexual orgasm. The M aura doesn’t react if the pain and suffering are truly unpleasant. The M aura doesn’t mature without an S who can sense it. I still haven’t fully described the M aura, but just talking about this aura would take quite a while, so I’ll stop here. Still, as a word to describe the M demeanor, the M aura is a good one, isn’t it? We cannot accept abusive acts that mimic SM as SM. Yes, yes, yesssssss. That’s right, I strongly feel that way as well. The sensibilities of people genuinely dominated by the dark side of SM, those who casually enjoy cruel acts, are indeed similar to mine in how they feel about such things, more so than those who only see SM as foreplay. But I dislike those types even more than people who engage in SM as foreplay (though I don’t think people like that have the mental capacity to actually feel SM… that sort of so-called fake SM). Hearing people boast about such things and brag about being genuine SM enthusiasts makes me feel such intense disgust I could vomit. Mika Suzume-san’s comment

Though I share a similar SM mindset, I doubt the aura of masochism descends upon these individuals’ play. Like Nureki Sensei, I also don’t want to call these people’s cruel acts “SM play,” but since there’s no suitable term, I rarely use the word “play.” However, it goes without saying that this is fundamentally different from the SM play performed by you. “Shall I tie you up?” “Yes, tie me up” That’s far too bland. No thrill. No hint of SM. Suddenly, out of the blue, that’s just the way I like it. I believe that prearranged harmony doesn’t suit SM. SM is more enjoyable when it involves unexpected things happening. For the M, it’s not so much about saying, “Please take care of me, Master…” but rather about someone unexpectedly entering the SM dynamic from an unexpected direction, and they want to resist it a little. If SM had such surprises, I might be able to make a face that looks both startled and shy, saying things like, “Oh… no… I can’t… stop…” or rather, I’d like to try making that kind of face. I don’t dislike it (actually, I like it), but if I actively say “yes,” it kills the M mood. If it’s a forced “reluctant” scenario, the acting feels too fake and ruins the mood… And if I’m really forced to do something I hate? I get angry. The aura of M is utterly unimaginable from the resolute, stern demeanor she displays while working as a designer. Sensei, I’m sorry if I’m wrong, but after reading this part, I imagined that you might like Audrey Hepburn in “Afternoon Affair.” For some reason, the image of Hepburn overlaps with that of the resolute, stern-looking Rakka-san.

Rakka-san’s breast pressed against the inside of her bra, “It feels so good!” Is this the moment when Rakka-san’s surprise (and bewilderment) turns into emotion? There’s an English word “wonder,” which means “surprise” or something like that. When you add “ful” to it, it becomes “wonderful,” meaning “excellent.” Would you call it wonderful, SM? If it’s just about startling someone, it’s merely a jack-in-the-box. But to create SM that truly moves the M, the S requires precisely that spirit of a “servant” you mentioned earlier, Sensei. Using just one flower cord, her hands in a takate kote. Sensei, there’s no need for elaborate ropes in your interactions with Rakka-san. I also believe a simple, yet fully dedicated restraint, takate kote, is most fitting. And while the “flower cord” is unsuitable for filming, it holds your deep passion. Given that she’s bound by such a cord, it’s no wonder Rakka-san experiences “pleasure-induced-fainting.” I supported her body in a hurry. Though the floor is carpeted, a proper fall would cause injury. Seeing people who lack any consideration for such accidents call it “hard S” and thoughtlessly engage in dangerous play makes me furious. While they’re not the same as those who commit deliberate acts of cruelty, people who are careless about safety are also quite troublesome, aren’t they? If only half of the people would pay attention to the M’s safety, then they could have much more fun playing…

I saw the image of the flower cord. It’s lovely, isn’t it? The sight of Rakka-san bound by this rope, fainting from pleasure, must be quite a picturesque scene. And it must be SM, I suppose. But even paintings or photographs may not be able to fully capture the true, delicate emotions of the moment, you know… Thank you, Mika Suzume-san. Please feel free to share your thoughts and impressions after reading.