I’ve been a switch in rope bondage for over a decade. Getting to go to Japan and experience shibari there felt like a pipe dream, but I feel lucky enough to say it's a normal part of my life now.
My experiences in BDSM in Japan began almost 5 years ago with my first visit. I arrived in Tokyo on my 30th birthday. I landed in Narita and had to take a few trains to get to Tokyo. That journey from the airport to my airbnb is worthy of a story on its own! It was 9pm by the time I got settled, and it being my birthday, I couldn’t just go to bed. Prior to heading to Japan, I had been introduced to a rope master via twitter, Otonawa Otowaya, the owner of Titty Twister (open from dusk till dawn) in Shinjuku. I admittedly didn’t know much about him before we met, which in hindsight was bold of me – to meet a man for bondage in another country when neither of us spoke a shared language. He did bondage, he had a club, he was open to meeting me and tying, and that was good enough for me. I’ve since learned a good deal more about him and I feel lucky to have met such a kind, talented and very funny person to share experiences in bondage with.
It goes without saying, I was extremely jet lagged, but I got myself together and went out into the night. This is the part of the story where I get to tell you all how I embarrassed myself a couple of times. If I could give any advice about navigating relationships in Japan, it is to always observe, never assume, and don’t do anything until you’re told to. That's probably sound advice in any situation but in Japan being able to “kuuki wo yomu”, meaning to read the air/the atmosphere–to read the room–is very important. This can be really challenging as a guest and while not speaking Japanese, but they are patient – especially if you are self aware. Though the more you’ve visited and the more Japanese you speak, the more they will expect you to get with the program, so tread lightly.
Getting to go to Japan and experience shibari there felt like a pipe dream, but I feel lucky enough to say it's a normal part of my life now.
As I went from Zoshigaya to Shinjuku, I remember walking out of the subway for the first time and being enveloped in the neon evening that is Shinjuku. I walked down the street, thinking, “Wow, Blade Runner was totally inspired by this”. It felt like both seeing something from the future and being immersed in a time capsule of what club life in Tokyo might have been like. Seeing the green Japanese taxis, neon after neon sign, and feeling the cold air against my face as I moved through the crowds, it’s a visceral memory. Even as I write this, I can close my eyes and be transported there. I can hear the station song as the train approaches and the sights and smells of all the izakayas and bars lining the blocks, the endless amounts of neon I couldn’t read, lighting the sidewalks and faces of drunk salary men as I approached the more “exciting” parts of Shinjuku.
I made my way to his club and found myself standing outside the door. I entered and it led me into a small area with a closet for coats, a spot for shoes and a curtain leading into the club. I pushed through the curtains and I walked in on a man getting kicked in the balls. I don’t know why I was shocked but I gasped and threw myself back. I immediately thought to myself “what are you DOING? This is a BDSM club, OF COURSE that's happening!” As I went to go back, the man getting kicked in the balls met me at the curtain, saying, ”you have to take your shoes off before you come in.” I began to apologize and as I did, Otonawa burst through the curtains, saying: “Freshie, Freshie, Freshie!” He swept me up into a hug. The man who met me at the curtains, handed me a form and started going over the rules of the club: no taking photos of anyone without permission, no touching people without consent. The form is for me to fill out, for Otonawa to know my experience level and what I want to do. As he is explaining all this to me, I realize there's a Japanese cover of Hotel California playing. Maybe it was the jet lag but it really felt like a fever dream.
I pushed through the curtains and I walked in on a man getting kicked in the balls. I don’t know why I was shocked but I gasped and threw myself back.
I handed the form over to Otonawa and he looked it up and down and smiled at me. He couldn’t read what I wrote, any more than I would have been able to read anything in Japanese. Some more friends of his arrived, and he prepared to tie someone. However, I did not “read the room” and I stepped up thinking it was me, but it was not! Under normal circumstances this might have been a simple faux pas, but I seemed to have made this girl feel a little uncomfortable with my misread of the situation. He finished and let me know it was my turn, and he suspended me. Of course, I loved it. He is a great rope master. As I was spinning upside down I saw him and his friends smiling as they watched me. I looked down and saw a woman dominating a man with her feet, and past her a man was getting whipped at the bar by a tall blonde woman with a lot of facial piercings. Afterwards his friends seemed to feel a little better about me. Perhaps seeing I was down for bondage was a good “equalizer”, so to speak.
As we were sitting there, the blonde woman started shoving her feet into the stomach of the man she had been whipping. Everytime she did, he would moan and luxuriate like he was being fucked. I was just watching this take place and Otonawa used a translator to explain to me that the man on the floor had been hypnotized to believe he had a pussy on his stomach – which was an involved fantasy to say the least in terms of imagination. When they finished, he laid there, catching his breath as if he’d had an orgasm, and the blonde woman turned to the bar and lit up a cigarette. I commented aloud, “It’s funny that she’s having a cigarette when he's the one who was getting “fucked”.” Otonawa just nodded at me, but the American bartender chuckled. That chuckle might as well have been a scream the way everyone in the club's heads snapped around to look at him. He stared back at everyone for a moment before translating what I said, to which everyone burst into laughter.
As I was spinning upside down I saw him and his friends smiling as they watched me.
The thought of my humor translating and being funny in another culture was something I had never thought of, and it’s one of the biggest motivations I have to continue to practice Japanese. I love making people laugh and the idea I could connect with people I didn’t share a language with through humor made me feel so happy.
As the night progressed I learned I had made a rookie mistake thinking the train ran all night (pro tip: it does not, last train is about midnight, first train is around 5am) and I couldn’t order a taxi without some assistance. Otonawa asked the American bartender to come down to help me get a taxi, and I went back to where I was staying in Zoshigaya.
I love the memory of this evening: between meeting a Japanese dominatrix, experiencing BDSM in Japan, and learning more about a culture and place I had loved from afar for so long. It's the first of many happy memories I have in Tokyo, and the beginning of my friendship with Otonawa. Visiting his club in Shinjuku is always a treat.
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