The piercing sound of the train crossing the bridge feels well mixed with the humming of the taxi engines and the light, playful melody of lights on the pedestrian crossings. Tokyo streets, thoroughly heated up by the blazing summer sun, are warming up the soles of my sneakers and I’m desperate to find a piece of shadow next to the crossroad, where I’m supposed to meet up with my friend so that we can go together to a bondage workshop.

I’m thinking how will I ever be able to talk about the upcoming 3 hours of, well, a bondage workshop.

Yes. You read it right.

A bondage workshop.

You just read it three times, your imagination is running wild, and I got you hooked. Calm down and read on.

The workshop is about to start in 15 minutes and as it’s maybe 1km away from the meeting point, I’m starting to get nervous. The friend is quite late and I really don’t want to miss the most important part of the workshop – the informal time before the official start where we can introduce ourselves to other members of the workshop and somehow deliver an ice-breaker.

Irrelevant of your height, color, or language skills, it’s a basic premise that as a non-Japanese in Japan, you stand out and you are considered as something, well, foreign. Not that this would be something strange and specific only to Japan – it’s the same basic premise that defines the basis of any cross-cultural situation. What matters in these kinds of situations is to create a correct framework, a context for interaction from step one. Define the situation from your side and create a rapport, so that the people around you don’t see you as a ‘random’ non-Japanese in Japan (i.e. the ‘generic foreigner’), but as a non-Japanese ‘person’ in Japan (i.e. the ‘specific guy’). This subtle difference, where you can define your interests or character, where you demonstrate the ease of hanging out with you in the first seconds of any conversation, the few precious seconds when you define yourself in front of others amazingly reduces the fear from the ‘foreignish unknown’ and helps with anything that comes after the introduction.

I consider this quite important in any type of conversation or social exchange.

I consider this extremely important in an afternoon gathering with the sole goal of tying up people with a thick rope and somehow trying not cause them too much pain in the process of doing so.

After maybe 10 minutes of relentless waiting, my friend arrives to the crossroad, breathing heavily and apologising for being late. We pick up the pace and immediately head out into the shiny intestines of Ginza, this time lit by early afternoon sunlight.

During night, the streets can be described with an unhealthy overdose of naivety as suspicious at best. Yet during day, they look absolutely dead. Without the colourful buzzing neon lights, half- or full-drunk people staggering around, and overall vibrancy of ‘welcome-dear-foreigner-we-will-gently-carve-out-your-organs’, the entrance to the store look rather shallow and dry. It feels absolutely ridiculous when I imagine that only 3 flies of stairs is everything that stands between this nothingness and a endless world of ropes.

We run down the stairs and a moment before opening the doors, I hesitate.

The last time I was here, the relaxation salon for all fetishists and SM manias to meet each other was full of, well, fetishists and SM manias, who were served by girls in fishnet stockings and tight corsets. By the way, with tight, I mean as tight as it gets, with a strong Singaporean “H” sound coming right after the first “t”.

I take a deep breath, produce a soft, relaxed smile, and open the door.

I immediately hear a familiar voice:

“Ah, welcome, welcome! I have received your email Mr. Michal, thank you for coming. I can see you brought a friend.”

“Ah, master, long time no see. Yeah, it’s quite a unique opportunity she didn’t want to miss out.”

“I’m sure you both will like it. Well, we will start in few minutes, please wait here for a second. There are few more people who are supposed to come. I go quickly find them.”

The master runs up the stairs and my friend and I decide to enter the room. It looks different from what I saw the last time.

First, the lights are turned on, making the whole space much flatter, almost creating a straightforward platform for friendly chit-chat.

Second, the huge wax model of a busty girl in a police uniform and the white shiny bath tub (don’t ask) that were previously proudly filling up the middle of the room are moved to the side, making plenty of space for workshop participants.

Third, there are maybe 10 people and everybody seems just way too normal. Of course, the ropes lying on the ground and the hint of eeriness is still lingering in the air, but the portfolio of participants look like anything you can see on a typical Japanese street during a typical morning run:

A young man with a clean shave and a laid-back sport jacket, who could be a successful startupist.

A middle aged man with a clean shirt, who could be a professional IT manager.

A slightly aged salary man with the belt of his trousers pulled up almost to his breasts and perspiring heavily, who could be, well, ehh… just your average, slightly aged, heavily perspiring salary man with a healthy lineup of fetishes under his belt.

As I said. A pretty standard portfolio of people you can meet on any typical Japanese street.

My friend is the only female participant and the only non-Japanese speaking person, but there are no strange looks nor discomfort.

Right next to the participants stands a group of young girls – some faces are familiar, some of them are new. All of them are dressed normally (for Japanese standards), talk to each other, and laugh. Again, the group basically resembles a normal distribution sample of, let’s say, an average Starbucks clientele – a chubby smiling girls who might be a student, a petite girl who looks like a waitress, and a slightly stern lady that you would normally meet in a bank.

I smile at the girls who I have met the first time and I get introduced to others. The girls are the models – the ones that are going to be tied up by the participants. We chat for a while about how have they been doing for the past few days, when suddenly the door opens and the master brings 2 more people.

The master looks at the group of participants, counts them, checks them with a list, nods his head, and starts to talk:

“Thank you very much for coming to our monthly workshop. We have 5 participants and only 4 models, but as we will rotate we will ensure that everybody will get enough practice. As usual, the workshop will be led by our sensei, Mr. Kuroda.”

Bar master takes a step to the side and frees up space for Mr. Kuroda – a slightly older Japanese gentleman, maybe in his 60s, whom I didn’t notice until then.

“Welcome, welcome. As usual, we will split into two groups, complete beginners and intermediate participants. The advanced workshop takes place next week, today we will cover the basics. Well, without losing any time, let’s start then. The bar master will take care of the intermediates and I’d like to ask the beginners to come to this side of the room with me.”

My friend and I follow Mr. Kuroda. Besides the two of us, there are 2 more participants and 2 girls.

“Okay, so let’s pair up. You, Yuri, will be the model for this gentleman and Mayu will be tied up by this gentleman. Michal, you and your friend will be the third pair. Who wants to get tied up first?”

Without translating the last part to my friend, I agree to be the victim to find out how it actually feels.

We form pairs and the workshop starts.

I sit down on a chair and start to simultaneously translate what the teacher is eagerly telling to my friend.

“Ok, so let’s start. First, take these ropes – I presume you don’t have your own ones. No, don’t worry, they are boiled for few hours so they won’t leave any marks. No, they should never leave any marks.”

“So, Michal will hold his hands like this behind his back, and you create the first knot right like this. Yes, make it nice and firm so that it doesn’t loosen up. Good, good. Now here comes the second knot, try to keep them nice and straight.”

My friend is following the instructions. Sometimes, Mr. Kuroda helps her with some of the more difficult knots and continues with the explanation. He walks between the pairs in the group and patiently shows what to do.

The instructions are quite easy and straightforward, so I switch my brain to automatic translation mode and focus on observing my feelings instead.

So. Here I am, sitting on a wooden chair in an underground room in the center of Tokyo, with my hands being tied up by my friend. If I could run away, I could. Yet here I am, still sitting on my butt, my arms getting slowly tied up firmly to my torso. The number of knots keeps increasing and I feel like I’m gradually losing my freedom of movement. Yet the decrease in this one variable has a strange positive effect on the other variable that I would never expect – the level of trust I feel towards the person that ties me up. This sensation is completely new to me. I’d never expect to start trusting someone who limits my movements, yet here it is, happening.

I switch back to focus on the translation. The friend continues tying me up and after approximately 20 minutes, the work is finished. My friend makes a short funny-yet-not-so-funny comment about how powerless I look, takes a few pictures of her piece of art, and starts to lose up the ropes.

It takes another 5 minutes until I regain my full freedom.

I stand up, happy to feel unrestricted and smile.

It’s my turn.

My friend says that she wants to take a break. I start to look around, when the slightly chubby girl approaches me, introduces herself as Miwa, and says that she will happily be my model. I happily agree. This time the bar master becomes the teacher of the beginners group and now I can fully see, not only feel, what was happening behind my back few minutes ago.

The bar master starts to share his knowledge.

“Michal, be careful with the knots. You know, here on this workshop the models or your friend are dressed normally, but when you are having fun with your partner or when you have a bondage show, the girl is usually naked. The ropes, the knots become her only dress, and you are the one who has to make sure that it looks pretty on her. So always lead the rope as close to the skin as possible.”

“Now here, you have to keep the knot firm so you need to fasten it up slightly stronger, but make sure to hold your fingers between the rope and the skin – you shouldn’t leave any marks or hurt the model in any way.”

“Ok, this part is difficult – we want to make here a double knot as a decoration between the breasts, it creates a really nice triangle, but you have to keep the balance between both sides.”

I follow the instructions, try to focus and learn, take time to remember each step, but the bar master is strict:

“Michal, hurry up, you don’t want to make it boring. It has to be a pleasant experience for the model – nobody likes when the arms feel numb and they are not getting enough blood. In this case, try to keep it under 15 minutes. Make it nice, fun, yet fast, keep up the pace. It has to be fun Michal, the girl has to enjoy it.”

“No no no, make it firmer. Here, let me do it. You see, you hold the rope like this, and then you pull it up here to close the knot. Miwa, which one feels better? You see, it is much more satisfactory if you tighten it up swiftly – you mustn’t hesitate with the moves.”

“Oh, by the way, Miwa, we have to change your name for the new business cards, we need something that sounds a little bit punchier.”

“No, no, there are no strict rules how to tie someone up, Michal. Each person has his or her style, our salon prefers this style, but there is nothing that can’t or mustn’t be done. Just make sure it’s pretty.”

“How I became a bondage teacher? Well, that’s a long story, but the short version is that I enjoy to be tied up. From there it just came out as a natural next step. But to be honest, I like to be a model more.”

I do as the bar master instructs me and I’m wondering why this feels more like a course of pottery. The people talk to each other. They have fun. They laugh. There is nothing sexual or strange about the whole situation.

“Sorry Miwa, I hope it doesn’t hurt.”

“No, it’s OK.”

“Is it firm enough?”

“Not bad, but you could make the last knot a little bit firmer. Yes, that one, on the left side.”

“Thank you Miwa.”

I finish the artwork, take few pictures (without the face of course), untie Miwa, and continue practising on other people. After almost 3 hours of tying people up and watching people being tied up, the bar master announces that we should tidy up the room.

One of the intermediate participants who looks like a startupist asks if he can quickly try one more pattern on one of the models, and the barman agrees.

One girl volunteers to be his model and he vigorously starts his work.

I help the bar master with the ropes and he thanks me by giving advice on where to get the correct size, which material to choose, and how to boil them to make them soft.

Other participants talk to each other, exchanging tips on techniques and ideas, when suddenly, the warm buzz of the room is harshly interrupted by a weak, yet fierce “Ahhh” coming from one corner of the room.

Instinctively I turn my gaze to the source of the satisfactory noise and I see the petite model being tied up by the startupist. Her arms, raised over her head, slightly bent over and completely devoured by the rope. She holds her head up, her eyes closed, her knees bent and weak, barely holding.

The startupist doesn’t blink. He ignores everything and everyone, his eyes fixed on the ropes, his arms moving quickly and steadily.

The tension in the room increases only for a split of a second, after which everybody’s attention gets back to wherever it was. We tidy up the room, the startupist takes a few pictures of his artwork and unties the girl.

She weakly apologises (“Sorry, but it felt really good”), the bar master laughs, and after we put the decorations in the room back into place, people start to leave. As if nothing has happened. As I said before. Everything is normal.

The bar master turns back to me and asks how I liked it. I reply honestly:

“It was one of the most peculiar enriching experiences I have ever had.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Well, should you ever return to Tokyo, I’ll be glad to see you again any time.”

“Thank you. Really, I mean it. Thank you and definitely see you again.”

My and my friend walk up the stairs without uttering a single word.

We find ourselves again on the streets of Ginza.

The sunset is colouring everything with a soft golden hue.

I have seen many Ginza sunsets, but this one feels much more vivid and juicy than all them combined.