There are so many ways to begin a story. I could begin at the beginning, reciting from memory the first meeting that started it all. That’s the most logical but so boring. I could drop you into the middle of a scene between two players without any explanation, and if I had the skill enough, keep your attention while you try to figure out what is really going on. Very Shakespearean, but rather risky. Or I could just take the simplest route, and make an introduction- tell you more about me. I’ve chosen to take this path. No need for dramatics- I’ll save those for other stories. So, hi. I’m a submissive who’s just been introduced to gasmasks, and who is madly in lust with her Dominant.

But this article isn’t just about gasmasks, or the fact that my Dom can make me wet with one raise of an eyebrow. It’s also about the imperative of trust. As a submissive, you’re allowing another person full control over your mind and body. You become their puppet both physically and emotionally. Want me to stand just so? Remove my clothes? Straddle that bench? Allow you to whip me till I’m bleeding? How about I give you a blow job? Tell me how you like it and if I don’t do it right, feel free to thrust your cock down my throat so far that I gag. Hell, do that anyway. I’ll admit it, I like it. Don’t fall for it when I show you teary eyes and a reproachful look, as if to say “How could you do that to me?” I’m eating it up. Show me what you’ve got; I’m ready.

Okay, okay, I’m getting carried away. Point is as a submissive I allow myself to become a marionette to the whims of my Dom, because I enjoy it. But that level of submission is not attainable if you don’t trust your Dom. My story of gasmasks is a perfect example. When you have a fear of enclosed spaces like I do- it takes an inordinate amount of trust to agree to strap one onto your head. Only he could entice me to do it. Well, him and the promise of a mind blowing orgasm at the end of it. Here, let me set the stage for you.

So there I am, straddling a caning bench, legs tied to either side and hands tied to the front. My face is being pressed down into the leather by my Dom, facing away from him. He’s growling under his breath and I’m letting loose the occasional yelp as his hand connects with my backside. Damn, that man always knows just how hard to hit me to shock me. It’s always just a bit more than I was expecting, whatever level we are currently at. Despite the pain and surprise, I always find myself arching my back to push into his hand, exposing myself more, begging for him to make contact again. I want him to hurt me. I love it. I’m such a little slut for him. I know it. I’m not ashamed.

Suddenly his hand is pushing down harder the back of my neck, until my cheekbone smarts against the leather. He’s leaning over me and I feel his breath on my shoulder. All of my hair is standing on end. What’s coming next?

“You okay with breath play? Asphyxiation?” He asks me. God, that voice! Low and gravelly and pure alpha male. It never fails to get to me. It sends tingles down my spine and I almost giggle, suddenly envisioning Goldilocks being held down and ravaged by the Big Bad Wolf. On the surface he’s being polite, letting me set my boundaries, and if I say no, he won’t push it. But he has a way of saying things that makes them a command, and I want to obey. I know I will be missing out if I say no. I want to give him whatever he wants. I’m not sure what he has in mind, and I don’t care as long as he’s the one doing it to me.

“Yes.” I answer in a gasp.

He gives me a little shake and I whimper with longing. I realize I’m grinding my pubic bone into the leather bench.

“You’re sure?”

Am I sure? Sudden doubt fills me. He must have something bigger in mind than just strangling me to ask if I’m sure. (Which by the way I love. His hand- my throat… a match made in heaven.) What am I signing up for? I think about it for a split second and decide I don’t care. I’m right where I want to be.

Yes.”

“Don’t turn around.” He releases me and disappears. It’s always a curious place to reach when he does that. He’s done it to me before. It never gets old. I’m not supposed to turn around. I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. I hear strange sounds but cannot place what they could be. The wheels in my head are spinning. I can feel my heart thudding against the beam I’m resting on. My legs are tied to either side so that I’m totally exposed from behind, fully opened to him, and I’m acutely feeling my own vulnerability. I’m so accessible to him in this position. It embarrasses and excites me all at once. It’s making me blush even now, just thinking about it. It’s like that dream where you can’t turn around to see the monster you know is sneaking up behind you. Any second now he’s going to grab you. Except in this situation, the monster is unbearably sexy and you’re going to cum like a train wreck when he grabs you.

He’s back. Again those rough, wonderful, brutal hands are directing me- this time to lift my head, and he’s thrusting my face into a gasmask. That’s not what I was expecting. For a second I balk and he feels it. His grip loosens just a fraction. He’s letting me decide. I’m scared. I don’t know if I can handle being that enclosed- to have my air supply that controlled. A hand can release my throat at any moment. A gas mask…. He’s going to have to unbuckle it to get it off me and when you’re panicking, every second is horrible. This whole exchange takes only a moment, and then I’m pushing my face forward, silently acquiescing to his demands. Yes, I’ll do it. I trust him. I want him. I’m his. Bring it on.

Best decision I ever made.

He kneels down before me so we’re eye level, tightening the straps over my head. With every tug it’s getting harder to draw a breath. I train my eyes on his face- eyes that I know must be huge with trepidation and lust- the quintessential deer in headlights. But he’s not looking at me.

“Breathe…” He commands me, his attention on his hands, and I draw a deep, labored breath so he can hear I’m not suffocating. Well, not really. I’m fighting a mad urge to shake my head- like a tethered wild horse. “Breathe….”

And then, just as he’s getting up, he shoots me one look straight in the eye; dark, severe, and full of intent. I am looking at the Devil. I feel the shock of contact down to my toes. Oh my God, I am really in for it. Then he’s out of my range of sight and my last comfort- the familiarity of his face- is gone. I’m trapped inside the mask, fighting to pull in a full breath, and my body has become his playground. Every sense I have is trained fully on him standing behind me. His hands are pulling me- spreading me open for his pleasure. I’m blushing so hard that my cheeks are burning but it doesn’t matter, because nobody can see it. I’ve become an object. I am a toy. He touches me and I communicate by thrusting myself against his hand. More… More… More… I’m pleading using pure body language.

Whack! I jerk when the flogger hits me. My hips are rolling of their own volition.

“Say ‘Thank you Sir’ when I hit you.” He orders. I whisper the words, but they are lost in the mask.

Whack!

“I can’t hear you!”

“Thank you Sir!” I yell. I’m struggling to enunciate so he can hear me. It comes out muffled and slightly panicked. His mouth is probing me now and I’m writhing in absolute ecstasy beneath it.

The intensity of our play overwhelms me. I’m in tears beneath the mask. He is waging full out war and I am his battleground. The limited oxygen is making my whole body tingle, so every sensation is amplified a hundred times. Then he reaches up and covers the mask with his hand, cutting off my air supply completely. I’m still for a few seconds, holding my breath, but the need for oxygen asserts itself quickly and I suck in desperately, feeling the mask tighten around my face. There’s no air. Again fear surges to the surface and my body struggles against the bonds that hold me still. He hardens perversely inside me in response and drives into me deeper. I grind back against him, taking him in. For a moment I wish I was a fly on the wall so I could see myself as he must see me- bound, naked, vulnerable and struggling.

“Oh, Good Girl…” He rumbles, and I find myself spinning into another orgasm. I can’t remember how many I’ve had already. He releases the mask and I gulp in sweet air, sobbing.

When it’s over, I’m exhausted. I’ve been violated every possible way and loved every minute of it. I lie loosely in my bonds, draped over the bench like a discarded doll. Only my ribcage is moving- desperately sucking in air, trying to still my racing heart. He’s trailing his fingers over my back gently, and it feels like I’m being brushed with the tips of cigarettes. Every nerve is alive to him. When he loosens the buckles and allows me to pull off the mask, it’s a relief and a disappointment all at once. I’m utterly spent but it’s so difficult- returning to myself from the highly sexual object I’d become over the last hour. Then my hot face emerges into the cooler air, and I sigh, closing my eyes. He’s untying the ropes. I lay my cheek against the leather and relax into his care.

It takes an hour for me to stop shaking. The next day, I wake up and run my fingers over the bruises on my wrists and legs, enjoying the thrill of remembering. Two days later, I’m still marveling at the direction the scene took, and how completely I trusted my Dom. I listen to my friends’ stories of mishaps, misplaced trust, and regrets, and I realize how lucky I am to have found the situation that I have.

And now, I’ve reached the end of my story. Again, there are so many ways I could wrap it up. But frankly I’m still exhausted- still processing- and I’ve reached the end of my cleverness for the day. So I’ll give it to you straight. Yes, I am now a huge fan of gasmasks. But I’m particular as to whom I will allow to strap one on me. Surrendering to the objectification and deprivation of your body on that level is a very personal thing. So if I’ve moved you by my story- if you’ve found yourself squirming in your chair and wishing you could duplicate my experience- the best advice I can give you is make sure you find a partner with whom you have the same level of connection. Trust is essential. Make sure your Dom (or you, if you are the Dom) knows what they’re doing and that they have the appropriate level of concern for your well being, both physical and emotional. Oxygen deprivation can be dangerous if not taken seriously. If you have all of those elements you’re going to have one hell of a good time. Take pictures. Or video. Or hell, write an article. I want to hear all about it. Tell me a story….

Originally Posted On Marky D. Sade.

This bondage blog LOVES Madison Young. This week she’s a submissive latex maid on Wired Pussy (wiredpussy.com) getting the forced orgasm violet wand treatment from her Mistress. I love Madison Young as a submissive, and I love her as a Mistress. She’s yummy, smart, and crazy beautiful. I have a weakness for green eyed redheads, as my wife Catalina has those traits. Wired Pussy is one of the best bondage sites I’ve seen. The forced orgasms from the TENS units, violet wands and E-stim toys are intense, and real. Wired Pussy puts on live shows for their members, in which you can login and participate in the scene. If you want a larger portion of Madison Young (and who doesn’t), you can find her movies in my Video On Demand Theater. It’s easy to use, and you can pay by the minute so…. you know.

Originally Posted On Catalinaloves.com.

Catalina loves Choking

Lately my interest in breath play has increased to a level I’ve never experienced before. More and more I draw closer to the line, and more and more I am more interested in finding it. I remember first getting into the scene and finding out about asphyxiation and thinking to myself that there was just no way that I was going there. (Of course, by now in my life I have learned that few things are out of the question if I wait long enough.)

Several months ago I met someone who talked to me about his experience with a girlfriend he choked regularly. I started to fantasize about it, thinking of what it would be like to be up against a mirror with my husband’s arm around my throat, watching us as the room gets darker and the stars come out. Then, I saw a video of his, and watched with big, wide-open, eyes as he reached around and choked her until she fell limp under him, and I had a new fantasy to develop and enjoy.

Being very open and honest in our relationship, my husband and I talk about these kinds of things. Sex, fetish, deviance… all normal topics of conversation among my contemporaries. So it’s not an uncomfortable thing for me to bring up. It came up naturally in conversation while I was perusing my porn theater (I know, I love porn, too). One of the videos I clicked on ended up being a bit of a surprise. I thought I was going to see a run of the mill MILF fucks two younger men kind of movie, and ended up watching a “younger men choke MILF while they fuck her” kind of movie. Surprise, Surprise. I confessed to him that I’ve been doing it to myself in a limited way with my collar (for which I was spanked later). He cautioned me, making sure that I knew what I was getting myself in to, and we discussed the topic thoroughly (and I suggest that anybody getting into breath play do just that - not just consent, but informed consent is needed for edge play.)

Since that discussion he has slowly and carefully brought me to that place I was seeking, and continue to seek. My favorite memory being that the last time, when I was riding him, his arms out straight, hands around my throat, feeling my body heavier and heavier, relaxing into his hands and onto his cock as I came. I can’t wait to feel his hands on my neck again. Just a brush of his fingers as he brushes the hair from my neck makes me instantly excited.

Originally Posted On Marky D. Sade.

Wired Pussy (wiredpussy.com) has a strong fetish side. Femdom forced orgasms induced by electrical play? Damn. Throw a San Francisco lesbian twist and a hot rubber corset, along with some breast binding (shibari) and erotic choking, breathplay, breath control, call it what you will… it’s hot. Wired Pussy, by the way, also puts on live shows into which members can login and participate. Hot damn. If that doesn’t do it for you, then consider my Adult Video On Demand Theater, and the Kink.com movies therein. I have full length Hogtied and Fucking Machines movies, that you can watch on your PC, and even pay by the minute if you like. Enjoy.

This fetish blog loves Kumi (kumimonster.com). She is a fetish model with more looks than a chameleon, and she’s stunningly beautiful. I had the pleasure of interviewing her for Social Kink, awhile back, and I found her to be incredibly funny, smart, and wonderful. This shoot, with the gas mask, and funnel, hints at such delicious breath control. I wonder who the rubber clad femdom is? You will be seeing more Kumi on Breathplay, because her fetish pics are among the best I’ve ever seen. For real. Kumi has a movie in my Video On Demand Library, if you want to see more of her. It’s a great shibari and bondage movie, with great scenes. Enjoy.