Sir Aaron recalls the start of his journey with rope leading up to a transcendent session.

24 March 2024

Sometimes, it takes a little bit of time to process events especially when happenings elicit a mish mash of emotions. Yes, it’s later in the week and the weekend is now five days past but I had to take time for me so I could convey the things running through this Dom’s little black heart. To be frank, nothing bad occurred over the weekend; it was all-in-all 10s across the board. I got to spend time with my Dad and engage in a great scene on Saturday followed by another transcendent scene on Sunday. As I’ve diaried the Friday and Saturday, it’s the Sunday that I took some time to ruminate on because I explored a side of me that I hadn’t touched in earnest for quite some time. Vague enough for you?

Okay, let’s get into it.

In November 2022, the Pup and I attended CLAW’s L.A. Leather Getaway Weekend over the Thanksgiving holiday. It was our first real trip following the pandemic. I remember running across it earlier in the year as I was perusing Recon. After reading the publicity blast, we signed up right away as volunteers so as to help out and also knock down the registration fee.

What drew me to the event the most were the opportunities for education, education on BDSM, the kinky shit that I heard about but not, at the time, fully explored. The pandemic really did a number on me as I’d put my Leather self and my Dominance aside to survive. I think we all did something similar to different degrees. When I saw the getaway weekend, I saw an opportunity to express myself as a Leatherman and a Dom, the latter being a tad rusty as I’d fallen out of practice. I had the gear but circumstances left them stored away because there wasn’t much Domming to be done when you were told to #StayHome.

The weekend was eye-opening and tough for me. While I was thrilled to be learning new things, I was also starting from square one socially. I hung with my Pup for the most part but felt out-of-place because I didn’t know anyone. To combat that feeling, I threw myself into classes ranging from the single-tail to spanking to CNC; I attended classes on Rope 101 and erotic Shibari. Little did I know that these sessions would be the first tastes of wonderful things to come.

Rope 101 was an introductory course where I learned basic ties like the single- and double-column. I remember feeling good doing something with my hands as I practiced column ties on my thighs. When the sexy instructor with the 80s stache and deep voice complimented me on my double-column, I’d felt a sense of relief, “Finally, I’ve done something right.” I left the class with my practice length of rope eager to get somewhere to practice what I’d just learned.

As for the erotic Shibari class, I remember the sensuality of the demonstration though I’d slipped into a funk once again and I was not altogether engaged. As I didn’t have a partner, I mainly watched and took notes.

After CLAW, I acquired several feet of rope at a sale at Home Depot and picked up more at Mister S Leather. I practiced harnesses and ties on a clothing shelf in my office after several failed attempts to use a pillow. I was determined to maintain what I’d learned using what I had available to me; however, over time, life happened and my rope hung waiting to be handled once again.

Fast forward to mid-/late-2023, I was getting into the San Francisco scene with my Dad and we attended a Dim Sum IN GEAR lunch. At the lunch, I was tipped off to a project on racial portraits by photographer Mark I. Chester; the “Racial Portraits” project is, according to Mark, “a series of politically provocative portraits of queer men of color.” As an Indigenous Leatherman, I was intrigued and contacted Mark. We did a shoot sometime after that with Mark shooting and releasing a photo of my new pair of Embossy boots.

The shoot was the start of a wonderful connection and we kept in contact from July 2023 when, in mid-November 2023, Mark approached me with an interesting proposition:

“We’re both exploring rope. Maybe we can help each other out so we both get more experience in a safe supportive environment.“

I took him up on it and we scheduled our first session in late-December 2023 just before Christmas.

Since then, Mark and I have had a great time exploring; as our sessions have progressed so has the nature of them from exploration to play. Up to this point, I’ve been the rope top working my way through a scene thanks to Mark’s patience and desire to be bound. I’ve learned the sausage tie, the hog tie, and how to secure someone to a chair. I’ve learned that rope doesn’t have to be perfect, that there is no One Way to tie someone up. I’ve learned that being a rope top is another flavour of Dominance with its own headspace. I’ve also learned that I am more capable than I think myself to be. I’ve been fortunate to have Mark in this Leather Life as a kind of mentor and great friend. And this past Sunday, I was the submissive and Mark took the top.

I don’t give control over easily and it’s not because I’m predominantly Dominant in much of my life, it’s because I’ve lived out of control to terrible degrees especially in addiction. Before I got into recovery, I was a mess; when I got into recovery, I gradually shored up my defenses and silently vowed to keep control over the things I could like my actions, my thoughts, my time, and my words.

In Dominance, control has helped me consistently when it comes to handling potential dynamics going by the wayside, keeping negative emotions out of a scene, knowing when to listen to my body, and ensuring things align with my POV within reason, of course. Control is paramount and I don’t give it up lightly or hardly. For me to hand control over to someone/something else, high levels of trust are necessary, ideally built over time and fortified with action, like a credit score.

In this weekend’s session, I asked that Mark work his rope magic on me and he did…wonderfully. Up to this point, I’d heard from folx I’ve tied up describe the feeling of being bound. They described the sensation as being wholly embraced, having a sense of safety, and the erotic, meditative thrill of immobility. As Mark sausage-tied me, I found an anachronistic sense of release as the bondage enveloped me. I started upright & ended up on my back, my entire body webbed & waiting. I shuddered involuntarily as the bonds were tightened; then, Mark ramped things up by wrapping the upper portion of my head in vet tape.

As I lay exposed & blinded, I found myself falling into subspace being completely at Mark’s mercy. And I heard my voice take on a dreamy tone; however, even as I assumed submission, my mind took to recording every sensation my body felt. It was the Dom within taking notes, observing all that was happening to me and around me. The scene was highly erotic as Mark worked my body; in that time, I became the boy and he assumed the role of Sir. We played in that dynamic for a time and I fell into it completely. Things amped up as more vet tape was applied around my mouth leaving my entire head encased. I was immobilized, completely blinded, and experiencing waves of bliss.

An arm across my neck, questions from Sir asking if I was enjoying myself, my ragged breath, sensations as my pleasure centers were manhandled, a hand across my mouth, the struggle against the bounds, all these details roiled in a sumptuous banquet of pleasures. At some point, I stopped taking notes to put myself entirely into the hotness of it all, allowing myself to be selfish with desire until the inevitable end.

Mark began lowering the hoist that held tight the rope wrapped around me and slowly undid his work starting at my feet. As he did, I felt a rush of calm, a sudden euphoria akin to the first time I experienced my first impact scene though this was a different path of access to that place, the “floaty place” as I like to call it.

Upon my release, the dynamic shifted and I assumed my familiar Sadistic role though it was different following such a sustained state of submission. I was heightened in my awareness and calmer in my administrations. I worked Mark’s body with torturing tools of his choosing and reveled in his shudders, in the pain was giving, in the space we inhabited. My senses were opened and I felt hyperaware but not overwhelmed. We played until blisses had cooled and the pain became painful. Body parts were tender, sensations tingled away, and the air was thick with the scent of our play.

As I came back to myself, I noticed a rawness within and began reflecting on Mark and I’s session. Pulled from somewhere deep inside, I confessed a hard conclusion I’d long held onto since I’d stepped onto the scene. And I didn’t hold back, I allowed tears to fall and words to flow.

Some may think a Dom doesn’t do things like cry or show supposed signs of weakness but being Human isn’t weakness and, yes, Doms are humans. If anything, every tear I shed, every hard self-truth I confess unburdens me so I can be more certain, more clear-eyed, and a better Dom and person. I used to think I was cursed for having empathy but empathy, I know now, is a blessing. I feel, I cry, I hurt, I smile, nothing is held back, all of it is valid.

As I slowly pulled myself back together, Mark embraced me and provided what I needed in that state of vulnerability: a safe embrace in safe place with a safe person. I wasn’t ashamed of my tears; in fact, I was relieved to be free of them. Looking back, there was release upon release upon release all within the span of two to three hours.

As emotions settled and time set in, the moment had come for me to take leave. Gathering my gear, Mark and I embraced, thanking each other for the time together, and I made my way down the stairs and onto the street.

Folsom Street was bathed in late daylight, not yet the golden hour but fast-approaching. The air was clean from the previous nights’ rains and there was a refreshing chill in the air that brought me more back to my senses. I walked down to the street corner and texted my Dad that I was ready to go and made my way to our rally point at Mister S.

In the short walk, I found myself remarkably mindful of the moment and I marveled at it.

Here I was geared up walking down Folsom Street in San Francisco with a bag of rope thrown over my shoulder, fresh from a play session with an awesome player, photographer, and Leatherman. I’d just experienced pain, pleasure, and release and was on my way to meet my Dad, another fellow Leatherman, for a home-cooked meal.

It’s moments like this that that young Leatherman wished for in 2008/2009. The Leatherman who cobbled together looks with his secondhand pieces of gear and wondered if he’d ever fully experience the Leather Life he wanted.

Would I tell him about moments like this if I could? Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe not.

The Leatherman I am today is born from losses, gains, hardships, and successes. I had to learn to love to live again before I could truly live this life.

The sound of bootfalls on pavement brought me back as I closed in on Mister S. The sun was now behind the buildings as traffic sighed by and Dad was on his way.

My gloved hand reached for the handle of the mirrored door of the shop and I pulled, the scent of Leather hitting me in a delicious wave as I stepped inside feeling like I’d just come home.

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Connect with Mark Chester
Instagram: @sfropemarks / @sfphotou
Twitter: @sfropemarks / @sfphotou