Liberating ropes

When a handsome bellboy catches the eye of a wealthy guest, he may have a temporary break in his job.

Red rope

captured and bound

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Two hours remained before the evening training. Nikita decided to spend them writing a philosophy essay, and the library was the best place for that.

Taking his favorite spot by the window, he opened his laptop. The world narrowed to the text on the screen and the thoughts that stubbornly refused to take shape. That was why he didn’t notice her approach right away. Only the shadow falling across the table made him lift his eyes from the screen.

Alice stood before him, her blue eyes filled with mysterious determination. Nikita knew her - she was a year below him in studies and worked part-time here after classes.

“Hi, I invite you to play a game,” she said quietly.

The phrase hung between them. Nikita knew its meaning; during his time at university he had heard and spoken it many times. For some students, it was the beginning of a special game whose rules were a mixture of voluntariness and compulsion, power and submission.

Nikita felt a pulse in his temples and an inner resistance rising, which immediately ebbed away, dissolved by the force of agreement. The rules compelled him to obey.

“Alright,” was all he managed to exhale, closing his laptop.

Alice smiled and gestured for him to follow. They walked between the shelves to an inconspicuous door marked “Service Room.” Alice had the key. The small room, smelling of old paper, was cluttered with boxes and broken furniture. In the center stood a lonely chair and a small bag.

"Sit down,” she said firmly and authoritatively.

The chair creaked slightly under Nikita. Alice pulled a coil of cotton rope from the bag. With a soft motion she guided Nikita’s arms behind the chair and securely bound his crossed wrists. Then, with several tight loops of another rope, she tied his torso to the chair. Her movements were confident, without unnecessary fuss. It was clear that the process gave her an almost meditative pleasure.

"Why do you play?” Nikita asked quietly.

"I like the feeling of taking away someone’s freedom with each loop of rope, and knowing they cannot resist,” Alice answered without stopping.

She took another rope and tied his ankles to the front legs of the chair. Finishing the last knot, she stood before him, thoughtfully examining her work. Nikita had been tied before and knew the knots holding him were secure. To escape without breaking the ropes was impossible.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” she said with a gentle smile.

Alice left, closing the door behind her. The click of the lock sounded like the start of a timer. For the first few minutes Nikita tried to free himself. He strained his muscles, searched for slack in the knots, tried to move his wrists. But no chance was left to him. The ropes hugged his body tightly, restricting every movement except the slightest. The struggle was short and useless. He gave up, and by allowing himself not to fight, he relaxed.

Muted footsteps and quiet voices came from beyond the door. Life continued out there, while he was forced to sit here, tied to an old chair. But such were the rules, and he had accepted them himself. Thoughts of the essay, the training, and his evening plans first darted about, then, colliding with the unyielding reality of the ropes, began to fade. What came to the forefront was the simple, almost animal reality of his helpless body. He could do nothing. He simply was here. Bound.

The long-awaited click of the lock meant freedom. Alice entered and with the same confidence untied the knots. Nikita stood, rubbing his stiff arms.

“Thank you,” he said, surprising himself. A faint smile appeared on her lips.

“You were a good participant. You didn’t resist,” she said.

“Those are the rules,” he replied calmly.