The Shibari Knot

by Eliza Master

  They were both spent and happy. Erik pulled Renata on top of him lovingly, ignoring the rumpled clothing between them. She rested her forehead on his and relaxed into his body as the limo drove smoothly now on flat streets. After a few quiet moments, Renata sat up and redressed while Erik fastened his pants and buckled his belt.

  Erik was smiling, and his eyes were clear and relaxed. Then his expression changed to something Renata couldn’t interpret.

  “I’m off to Chicago tomorrow. It’s an early flight.”

  Renata thought it strange that Erik hadn’t updated her on his schedule, considering that they were almost a couple.

  “I wanted to tell you, but you’ve been hard to reach lately,” said Erik. Was he breaking up with her? “Renata, I care about you, and I want you to come visit me there,” Erik continued. Reaching out, he wove his fingers into hers.

  Renata was caught off guard. Was Erik in love with her? Her morning sickness returned, despite the late hour, and Renata hoped the lemon water wouldn’t come back up. She worried about sitting stuffed in a restaurant chair without a trace of appetite.

  “Actually, I feel like I might throw up, Erik. Can I take a rain check?” said Renata sweetly. A flash of disappointment crossed Erik’s face but was quickly replaced by concern.

  “Maybe we can have dinner in Chicago; after all, it’s only three hours by plane,” added Erik. “Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?”

  Renata was clutching her stomach. “Just take me home. Maybe it was something from lunch.”

  Erik rubbed Renata’s shoulder gently as the driver headed back to her apartment. After giving him a soft peck on the cheek, she raced up the stairs and barfed into her toilet. Renata vowed to go to a doctor soon and make sure that everything was okay.

  6

  DNA Proteins

  Gayle sighed happily. Renata was definitely pregnant. She had sent Renata’s hijacked coffee cup to the lab, and they had emailed her that the test was positive. Now all she had to do was proceed with her plan. Gayle hurried to the break room to meet Katrina. Uncharacteristically, Gayle threw her arms around the assistant, swinging her with excitement. Like a grandmother, she shared the happy news.

  Katrina smiled back into Gayle’s embrace, but she wanted more information. Maybe Gayle could tell her why Renata being pregnant was so important. Gayle had offered her two thousand dollars to secretly put the gray powder into her boss’s coffee every day, but assured Katrina the powder was harmless. She’d said she would explain everything later, but Katrina was still waiting. Since she’d started putting the powder in Renata’s coffee, though, Gayle had been treating her like a personal friend. Passing in the hall, Gayle would say “Everything good?” or nod covertly. Katrina knew her future was looking up.

  Taking advantage of the empty room, Katrina asked, “Why does it matter that Renata is pregnant? And what is the powder for?” She had a right to know, after all.

  Gayle dropped Katrina’s hands and took a deep breath.

  “Her DNA is unique and valuable, and it’s possible the powder will help her child have even more concentrated strands.” Gayle was surprised that the truth had so easily popped out, and glad she had dumbed it down to the level of the dingy office assistant. Katrina was a good little minion; she tried so hard to please. Perhaps telling the truth could be used to make Katrina a legal accomplice and keep her quiet, if necessary. It was obvious she didn’t like Renata, so there was no danger there.

  Gayle had only exchanged a few words with Renata herself and thought it best not to get personally involved. She preferred not to like or dislike the woman; rather to think of her merely as source material. A huge fortune could be made here. Gayle had Renata in close range, something her competition didn’t have.

  The buyer had no idea about Gayle’s sourcing plans. They had made it clear their only interest was in being the exclusive recipient of the concentrated REN proteins. They didn’t even want to know where or how Gayle would get the material, just that she would sign over all the rights to it.

  Gayle’s buyer was Black Lotus Pharmaceuticals, and the offer was for ten million dollars cash if she could supply reproducing high potency REN. The authorities in China had approved the project, and a government commission had already been arranged.

  She had paid a hacker for the confidential REN history. She knew that Fitzer had tried to impregnate Renata in Africa, but the egg had not become fertile. Too bad, Gayle smiled to herself. Then Renata had become suspicious and left the country. They were fortunate that the Guatemalan implantation had taken. Now Renata was back at her desk with a fancy promotion—right where Gayle wanted her.

  Gayle’s research showed that Renata’s pregnancy was the key. The plan was two-fold: first the pregnancy would make Renata grow new proteins that could be engineered to be more concentrated. And the child, if it lived, would be made of these proteins and be a natural source—like Renata but better. Only a female child could produce the correct DNA, so Gayle had had all the male embryos spun out. The sperm had been donated from Robert Johnson, a man who had told her he was a former Fitzer employee. Because he hadn’t asked for a percentage and signed a non-disclosure by email, she felt comfortable accepting the fluid. She hadn’t heard anything from him in months.

  Gayle knew Renata’s unique DNA proteins contained sildenafil, the main ingredient of sexual enhancement drug like Viagra. With a little chemotherapy, the gray powder would genetically engineer the REN proteins within Renata and her fetus. The gray powder was made of highly concentrated yohimbe extract, the natural source of sildenafil and an engineered virus. The virus swam to the inside of each DNA chromosome and made a holding place for the concentrated sildenafil to grow. The yohimbe would park on Renata’s DNA proteins that contained her natural sildenafil. The theory was that the proteins would then reproduce, and reproduce the sildenafil too. The result would be a sildenafil more concentrated than anything science had ever manufactured. Studies said that this type of sildenafil would work specifically for women.

  In the lab, Gayle had watched this virus insert itself into one of Renata’s DNA strands and hold the yohimbe. She had forced the protein to reproduce and noted that the sildenafil had doubled. The problem was that not all of Renata’s DNA was cooperative, but Gayle theorized that Renata’s fetus’s proteins would be more accommodating, at least if the baby were female. The child’s DNA could replace the need for yohimbe cultivation and flood the market with a cheaper, better product.

  Potentially the child’s altered protein could be reproduced in the China Chemical Group’s lab. If so, Black Lotus would have the most available patented sildenafil source worldwide. And Gayle would have ten million dollars. Black Lotus would be poised to be the first manufacturer of female sexual enhancement drugs, as long as Gayle could get them a reproducing source.

  Gayle could control Renata’s consumption of the medicine through her coffee or whatever Katrina could contaminate, but she would have to wait for the baby to see the results. She would keep a close eye on Renata’s schedule to make sure she didn’t try to terminate the pregnancy. Also side effects were a complication. The high doses of sildenafil would cause any man to have a nonstop erection; she hoped it wouldn’t have a similar effect on Renata.

  She told Katrina a little more about Renata, but she didn’t feel a need to explain everything. Plus she had something else she wanted from the girl.

  “Fresh coffee?” Gayle chuckled as she poured herself a cup.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Katrina, basking in the confidence the CEO had put in her.

  7

  Tying Up

  Dmitri had left Renata a voicemail, saying they had shibari practice that evening at a studio in the Castro District, and he was inviting her to come and watch. She did want to see Dmitri and his knots again.

  Kamber turned her soupy eyes to Renata, wanting to go out too. “I’m sorry, big girl, you can’t come.” Renata pushed her fingers into the dog’s thick fur, touching the hid
den skin beneath. Kamber was in shedding mode, and Renata had been vacuuming her hardwood floors daily as a result. The cottony hairballs were the only disorder in her living space. They gravitated behind doors and against molding. Combing through the big dog’s fur, Renata had noticed a lump on Kamber’s leg and decided she would take her to a vet soon to get it checked out.

  Gently she pulled out a length of silky black cord from its skein and deftly looped her pet’s front paws together. She imitated a pattern she had seen online in a shibari photo blog. Of course, that pattern had been around the arms of a young woman. The photo had shown a dark woman on a white sheet, with her back to the camera and her face hidden. Renata thought the woman could have been her twin; she had similar proportions and skin tone. The photo girl’s long cinnamon hair was blowing to the side, and her arms had goose bumps, as if she was seated next to a large floor fan. Renata wondered if the woman had posed tied for a long time for the photograph. Had she been uncomfortable, and was it a job or for pleasure?

  Both the photographer and the shibari master had male names. The woman wasn’t named in the credits at all. Why was it so rare to see men tied in shibari culture? And when they were, it was always by a Domme female who was into bondage. She would usually have a whip or some other weapon in the photo. Misogyny wasn’t limited to vanilla lifestyles, reasoned Renata.

  Renata had enjoyed being photographed and the artsy ways in which Danny had tied her. That session had been warm and sensuous. And stimulating. Renata thought of Danny carefully suspending her, and his muscular body pleasing her. She purposely avoided thinking about how he had died. Though she wasn’t superstitious, her white dragonfly tattoo was in his honor. When it itched between her shoulder blades, she felt Danny was communicating with her. Sometimes she spoke out loud to him when she was alone, asking for help in deciphering the patterns of other shibari artists. He would know how strong and safe the binding closures would be, even if he couldn’t answer back in words.

  Renata’s fantasy subjects were male. Sometimes it was men she knew; whom she was angry with, even. Those men were tied as a punishment and left in compromising positions. Lately, though, she tied men of all sorts in her imagination. Many were strangers with kind faces and powerful, sublime musculature. Strangers that made love to her after, and fucked hard in her fantasies. These tied males were not bound for punishment but for art and truth. Like a meditation, her shibari dreams were soothing and restful when she had insomnia.

  Renata told Danny about her new idea of untwisting the rope ends and making a sub-pattern and how she would place it on the subject. “How would shibari fit on a man’s pelvic area?” she asked him out loud. “Should the rope ends be sub-patterned into a phallic representation, or would it be better to use them as a loincloth for imagined protection?”

  What was the etiquette? Where could she touch a man without making him feel too vulnerable? Parameters for bound men were undefined. Certainly male anatomy was as striking as a woman’s, but was it okay to tie around a limp stick? Obviously that was a sensitive area; perhaps it would be better to focus on the bicep or thigh. She would want their masculinity to be amplified, and of course she would never want to hurt or offend. Silently Renata discussed this with Danny as she sat on the floor stroking Kamber.

  Danny told her that to keep the subject comfortable, touch and soothing communication were required. The communication between master and subject would define the work and bring out an innate sexuality. These relationships would be whole and fulfilling for both participants. Renata wanted to show her shibari to others, but she was unsure how to do it.

  Kamber licked Renata’s arm, bringing her back to the present. She was excited to go to Dmitri’s shibari demonstration. The velvety rope around Kamber’s paws was soft but held the dog’s front legs securely. Kamber leaned in for a pat. Renata thought about tying up Kamber’s back legs too, but she didn’t think Kamber would like it. Instead she took a few photos for reference before untying her sweet dog. “You are the best dog in the world,” Renata crooned, while she admired her work.

  Renata was pent up, and with Erik gone, she was without a lover. That would have to change, she decided. She had hoped the dog-tying would soothe her, but she still felt antsy. Errant sexual thoughts had invaded her mind without permission all week. She had felt unable to fully control her wandering fantasies, especially in the office. Daily her mind perused the pretty office women with their Barbie doll figures. Would they secretly like to be tied up?

  Renata considered calling her old lover, Alexa, and roping her, but she didn’t want to get dragged in emotionally again, nor confess her pregnancy. Instead, Renata looked at the office men and imagined them naked. Even guys in the elevator smelled good. Were they well endowed? And what would they do when they came? She chuckled when she remembered how Adam had been in bed. Once, when he started to cum, he’d shouted, “Oh no, you’re going to murder me!” Renata had laughed out loud.

  With unrestrained hunger, Renata relived her lunch sessions with Erik. The blowjob from under his desk and then him pounding her from on top had been good. She added more men into the fantasy. Renata had only had a threesome once, and she wasn’t opposed to trying it again.

  At work, she sometimes worried that others could read her thoughts, which were obviously far from professional. She was glad to be at home now and uninhibited. Many of her sexual fantasies were intermingled with morning sickness, keeping her in an emotional whirlwind. She hoped the shibari group would be a creative outlet that could assuage her persistent libido.

  Renata opened her shibari trunk, which had originally belonged to her foster mother. The trunk was made from solid chestnut, the domed top warped like a barrel. Renata treasured the locker and its key, the wood scent reminding her of a forest.

  Growing up, her foster brother, Jamie, had regularly invaded her room, stealing her bras and underwear to show to his friends. When she was eleven, he’d found her diary and taunted her relentlessly about a boy she had a crush on. After that, Renata kept the trunk packed and locked with her private treasures inside: her diary, panties, bras, and a forbidden pair of high heels.

  Now the trunk held Renata’s shibari supplies. Everything was packed precisely; order and geometry had been a failsafe for Renata throughout her life. This was the system she used for storing her ropes, straps, and torn fabric. All the ropes were tied in skeins, and the thinner cashmeres and silks were rolled into large balls. Cut lengths of material were stored by type, bunched, and then arranged by color. The red and teal cord was stored in a gradient mode. It looked like a purple sunset to Renata. The organization of her shibari rope worked to soothe her soul. Renata’s tools sat on an interior drawer that fit into the barrel top of the trunk.

  Gazing at her rope, Renata pondered the idea of the word “knot.” Usually it was something one wanted to undo, as in hair or a shoelace. What of the not without a k? She researched “knot” online to see if this would help broaden her understanding, starting with an ordinary dictionary definition. It meant to fasten. Was shibari a matter of fastening, or was that bondage? Though there was overlap, the two practices had very different meanings. Bondage was a part of the shibari practice, but shibari served higher purposes as well. Renata’s knots were for adornment, not just sexual pleasure. She used knots to increase the beauty that was already in the world and to convey feeling through creative expression. She had taken to shibari naturally; it was her passion, and she was good at it, she reflected as her lips curved into a smile.

  Renata had bought new rope for herself, but also to impress Dmitri tonight at the studio. She was open to new fibers, even genetically engineered ones. After all, she did work at Agri-Gen and approved of GMOs. The option of feeding ten people or one from a square meter of ground was a no brainer in her mind. Still, natural fiber ropes were her favorite; they were comfortable and strong. Her favorite materials were jute, hemp, and silk, as well as cashmere for special ties.

  At the hardware store,
Renata had selected a 6mm rope with good tooth, which meant it would grab onto itself and hold position well; this helped to allow vertical patterns that had more than one level of knotting. Additionally, this toothy rope was twisted, so it could be untwisted for different knotting options. The untwisted strands were like the curling ribbon on giftwrap. Renata would add to or finish the mood she was creating with thinner flourishes that she used to adorn the subject after he or she was fully tied.

  She believed that newborn knots and patterns deserved their own names. Her original knots had unique qualities that were deeply personal. The latest she called tigerlily. Renata had invented the knot and practiced it on her thigh yesterday. Tigerlily started with a bow made from jute. Then Renata wove chartreuse velvet into more bows. The knot was bold and looked like an alien flower, but it was quick to tie and could be an interesting garnish. She wondered where she could put a tigerlily on a man. Probably over the left breast in the nook under the shoulder would be a good position, like a name tag. Or perhaps front and center on the belt line would be better. How would it look around a man’s thigh? Would it look like a garter?

  Renata grabbed a cutter and a pair of scissors with a blunt tip from the trunk drawer. She always kept these in reach for safety, especially when self-tying. So far, she had never harmed herself or anyone else. She was extra careful with suspensions and knots around the neck. Renata hoped to never have to cut herself out, but she knew that sometimes shit could happen.

  Suddenly she felt nervous about seeing Dmitri and the shibari group tonight. She figured she would calm down by tying at home first. She took off her jeans, leaving on her thong. Using her left hand to guide the rope, Renata tied three basic overhand knots around her waist. She used a thick hemp cord that was polished for a soft feel. Then she interwove junctures in a corset pattern. It looked like she was wearing a macramé belt. Then she added her new tigerlily knot. She looped the knot with her left hand for practice, while holding the finished part in her right. This tigerlily looked more gregarious somehow than the others she had tied. Maybe it was just sloppy, thought Renata. Sliding the frumpy flower to her hip, she looped the rope ends between her thighs and up both sides till it resembled the outline of panties. Her right hand was itching to take over, so Renata strapped it over her front onto the corset to discipline it. She covered it with another left-handed tigerlily. Much better—practice really did make perfect. To Renata, the hand tied above her privates looked like a fig leaf with the tigerlily as a bloom on top. She admired her work in the mirror and grabbed her phone to snap some photos.