Does it hurt? Aren't you scared? How long have you been in there?
Onlookers express concern when they see me confined within David's pieces. Perhaps projecting their own fears of being tied up and constrained, they look at me with empathetic expressions, as if I am a reluctant prisoner.
The delight David and I take in our game of captive and captor is well-disguised, adding to the satisfaction gained from the performance. In private, it is a competitive game of endurance and a visceral expression of care. In public, we play into our perceived roles, an easy character-performance for our appearances and demeanors. Me, the powerless captive. Him, the brutal captor. Beneath the performance lies a different truth. We are equals, simultaneously watching out for one another and competing against one another's physical limits. The position of captive is coveted and comfortable, while the role of captor is often more strenuous and demanding. As an agoraphobe, I am comforted when confined and enclosed. To be tied up thoughtfully and tastefully by a trusted friend is hardly a frightening situation. Rather, it is a complexly enjoyable scenario, the feeling of being both a cherished plaything and a taunted prisoner.