GOING UNDER

Warning: this post contains descriptions of sexual practices which can be unsafe and which many doctors advise against.

I finished my last post, a description of a quite extraordinary session with the beautiful and talented Mistress Elita, with this:

I orgasmed at the end of this session, but in a way that was as dark and immersive as the session had been; a way that left me feeling that a new level had been attained, a door opened to deeper, darker experiences.

I think that might need its own post.

Here is that post.

Elita introduced me to breath play a while ago and, as with many such new experiences, it has become part of our practise of BDSM; each time we return to it she takes me a little further. It frightened me at first, but now it feels like the ultimate expression of her dominance and my submission, a chance for me to demonstrate my trust in her and to share something intimate, intense and sexual.

I know it’s sexual for me because it makes me hard. It always makes me hard.

It usually comes late in the session, when I am already deep under her spell. I might be looking into her eyes as she leans on my throat or, as on this occasion, I might be blindfolded .

I can feel her hand on my cock, sliding up and down slowly, but the sensations are numbed a little by the overload of endorphins in my body. The 10% of me that is still aware of where I am decides that it has all been too much, I am not going to orgasm today and I should ask her to end the session, as I have often done before. But I keep quiet and her second hand closes on my throat; I feel my breathing involuntarily stop under the pressure as she leans on it. I can see nothing, hear nothing, I can only feel; sensual pleasure from my cock, the pressure of her hand on my throat. The 5% of me that is still aware of where I am wonders if she might push me all the way under, but I’m in so deep that the thought triggers no alarm.

She continues and I feel a blackness more intense than that caused by the blindfold start to descend. I become aware of an orgasm floating up to the surface from deep in my core. The new blackness is not about an absence of light, I already have that, it’s an absence of……..of……it’s an absence of everything. As it envelops me the individual sensations of her hands fade away and the only, THE ONLY, thing I am conscious of is the orgasm. The 1% of me that is still aware of where I am knows this is happening, but the rest is the blackness; the blackness and the orgasm.  The orgasm is a living, breathing entity; it’s me and yet also not me. It passes through me like an ethereal Voldemort passing through Harry Potter leaving him/me unharmed, but shaken to the core and feeling somehow changed by its passing. 

I think Elita took her hand off my throat at the exact moment of the orgasm and, as it finally ebbed away, I lay still for a moment next to her feeling light headed in my blindfold.

Eventually I felt I had to say something, just to reconnect with my Mistress, to let her know I’m back in the room.

All I could manage was “Fuck!”

She laughed, clearly delighted. “Oh, Yes! There are sessions, and then there are sessions!” she said.

And she was right.

I don’t want to go through what Elita does to ensure my safety in these sessions, in case it seems I am writing a how-to guide for strangulation in BDSM, which is not something I would want to be responsible for. I know I am safe though.

 

Here’s a description of erotic asphyxiation

It works like this: The carotid arteries on the sides of the neck carry lots of oxygen-rich blood to the brain, so restricting that blood flow produces feelings of light-headedness or giddiness, which heightens sensations during sex and masturbation, according to Columbia Health’s Go Ask Alice column. When pressure is released, the rush of oxygen back to the brain gives a sense of euphoria