When I first heard about Shibaricon in early 2009, I was still very much a neophyte in the kink community. With just two bondage workshops and one rope-themed party under my belt at that time, I found the idea of people from around the world gathering in Chicago each year to share their love of, interest in, and experiences with rope bondage staggering. When I heard that the event had attracted over 600 attendees in its sixth year, I was captivated.

I knew I had to go.

Since its inception in 2004, Shibaricon has taken place annually over Memorial Day weekend. This year, the event was held from May 27th to May 31st. I arrived the morning of the 27th, bleary-eyed and barely conscious after my redeye flight, at the Hyatt Regency O'Hare, which has hosted the rope conference since 2008. I was awed by the hotel's vast, glittering lobby and luxury that oozed from the walls, but it also gave me a mischievous thrill to know that a portion of this regal hotel had been transformed into a play space for over 700 bondage lovers.

For four days, Shibaricon—from the Japanese term shibari meaning the act of tying or binding—offered an impressive spread of workshops, with topics ranging from basic knots to self-bondage, and from rope suspension to microbondage. In total, there were over 100 workshops taught by 49 instructors this year. These presenters brought with them an incredible diversity of skill and background: international bondage performers Zamil and the DV8 house, educators Midori and Lochai, leather titleholder Mollena Williams, and fetish models Claire Adams and Ms. Cherries Jubalie all brought their unique background, experience, and personal take on rope bondage to Chicago.

As “the world's premier annual exhibition and conference that focuses on education and information exchange among lovers of Japanese rope bondage,” many of the classes were certainly geared towards Japanese aesthetics and bondage techniques. But there were also classes on stretching for rope bottoms, using twine for nefarious purposes, incorporating anal and vaginal hooks into play, STI information as it pertains to sex toys and ropes, as well as a class whose title speaks for itself: “What Would MacGyver Do? Integrating Crazy Shit into Your Ropework.” (I heard a bicycle was involved in one of the demos.)

And with seven to eight classes held during each time slot, one is inevitably faced with the task of having to decide between several wonderful classes: Rope Corsets or Advanced Japanese Floorwork? Fast Bondage or Stretching and Conditioning for Bondage? Hojojutsu for Pirates or Negotiation for the Shy Freaks and Dorky Deviants? As a volunteer, I also had fewer time slots available to me for attending classes. Yet, even then, I found myself completely saturated with workshops and demos by Sunday afternoon, opting instead to browse the vendor mall.

When you've finally tired of looking at hot, sexy bodies being bound and tortured for educational purposes, the vendor mall provides an alternative diversion with its numerous decadent wares on display. There was just as wide an array of goods to be found here as there were workshops: San Francisco local Madame Butterfly's luxurious hand-spun silk and bamboo ropes, spandex fetish wear from Winter Fetish, and chainmail clothes and toys by Pendragon Chainmail are just a few examples. I thoroughly enjoyed fondling the coils upon coils of rope for sale but purposely left my wallet in my room.

Then, once night fell, the workshops ended and the vendors closed up shop.  It was time to play.

The classrooms were transformed into one large central dungeon and multiple side rooms, each filled with suspension frames, tripods, and all manner of rigs for rope play.  Walking the hallways from my room to the ground floor where the event was housed, I could sense the change in atmosphere, in the giddy electricity on peoples' faces, carried through their conversations and their gait as we all headed downstairs, toy bags in hand.  The white noise rose as topics changed from upcoming workshops to planned scenes and last-minute negotiations.  

Walking into the dungeon that first night, I remember feeling delighted to see so much rope on so many bodies. Girls encased in a spiderweb of rope, suspended within a wooden frame. People being hit and tickled while spinning in the air. Bodies and rope writhing together on the floor.

And then there were the exquisite outfits that adorned many participants: leather chaps, beautiful corsets, kimonos and geta sandals, a complete unicorn costume, and two mime outfits could be found amongst those wearing nothing but rope—of the glow-in-the-dark, vibrantly dyed, or natural-fiber variety. And the boots! Since becoming an aspiring bootblack, I've come to see boots in an entirely new light and, between classes and scenes, I could be found sitting in the social lounge happily taking in the beautiful boots walking past me.

Before I could even take it all in I had to get ready for my own scene. As I settled into the rhythm of wrapping layers of rope around my chest and hips, mirroring the actions of my scene partner, I let the sounds of others' playing, moaning, grunting, and screaming wash over me. Exhilaration bubbled up and through me, and the words of Shibaricon's one and only MC, Psychokitty, echoed in my ears from the Opening Ceremonies, just hours before.

 “Welcome home.”