I didn’t expect to like E all that much after our hotel session (see post of Feb 5) but thought it was worth meeting him for a drink anyway.  That’s what you get for judging a book by its cover, or its naked-on-all-fours submissivemeness, in this case.  He turned out to be anything but submissive in person.  Full of funny stories, engaging, perceptive, open-minded and sexually coherent.  Given his all-out willingness to be dominated by two unknown entities (Isobel and I), I felt good about turning the tables and seeing what he had to offer on the dominant side.

He was no longer a stranger by the time I found myself underneath him with his hands around my throat, the possibility of air making it’s way through the compressed tube of my oesphageus increasingly unlikely.  Just as the room around me started to fade into a black nothing, I pulled at his wrist and he let go.  “You could….” my words trailed off.  “I could what?” he asked.  “You could kill me” I said.  And no one would know.  Ok, I know this is a bit dramatic, but it’s what crossed my mind.  I found the idea intriguing rather than frightening.

It took some time to like having sex with E–at first I didn’t expect it would ever be good.  But the more times we met, the harder his cock seemed to get and the more I wanted it.  We moved in and out of roleplay easily so when I received a text telling me to get downtowm to a particular lingerie store, I just did it.  The instructions were to talk to Tracy, the sales assistant, upon arrival.  I’ve no idea what he’d said to her over the phone but she wasn’t particularly welcoming or helpful.  Perhaps pretty lingerie is just for nice girls who have missionary position sex.  I picked out five things and tried them on, according to further text instructions, and asked Tracy if she’d mind photographing me in each one, so I could send the pics to my boyfriend.  She declined and I took my own pics.  E picked out a few things via email and Tracy rang them up.  Next instructons were for the following day–I was to arrive at his apartment at 6am in the purchases, a coat, and nothing else.  It was 30 degree day in NYC and the wind and cold permeated my every fiber as I waited for a cab.  It was worth it, I told myself, to be able to turn up as expected.  I find perverse joy in following instructions perfectly.  Alas, E was in the shower and had left the front door ajar and my suffering went unappreciated.  I took the coat off and was left in bra and (if you can call them) knickers (basically three pieces of string).  And heels.   I laid out the tools of my impending punishment; a flogger, a paddle and a crop, then tied a blindfold over my eyes and stood, hands over head, against the mirrored wardrobe.  I heard the shower turn off and the beeps of his phone in the bathroom, then the door opening and the padding of his feet on the carpet as he crossed the room.  He lit a cigarette and I imagine, examined the girl in his room under the bright sunlight that poured in from the terrace.  My irritation at being up so early subsided and turned to excitement and arousal.  This is my kind of submission: sexual control and objectification.  I felt a finger run down my back and over my butt before the sting of his hand slapping my ass hard brought back the harsh reality of the early hour.  He proceeded to hit me with the tools I had laid out, but not very well.  It’s a treat to receive skilled corporeal punishment and something that takes time and effort to perfect.  I’m still working on it.  The eroticism in being dominated comes from true control–it’s best to find your skill and refine it. E did not warm up and his strokes were sloppy. The impact of a spanking or flogging comes from the slow building of tension, from the giving and deprivation of pleasure, from pushing just beyond the receiver’s threshold.  A kiss alone is nothing compared to a kiss following fifty lashes, just as the pain of crop hitting the skin is much more intense after that skin has been touched softly.  I think he got the idea that it wasn’t happening and removed my blindfold, kissed me a little, said he needed to learn more before he hit me again.  I respect that and feel the same way–one of the main reasons that I submit is so I can learn to dominate well.

As we sat on the floor talking E put his hands around my throat.  This time I tried to relax as much as possible, submitting completely to the pressure until a black film clouded my mind.  The next thing I felt was my body shaking.  I didn’t know what was going on except that I could feel the shaking but do nothing about it.  I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the floor, asking what happened.  I’d passed out, only for a minute and my muscles had reacted in spasm. Were he not a medical professional, I might have been more concerned. I actually felt pretty relaxed afterward and crawled over to the bed, beckoning E to join me.  This time he fucked me as he restricted my breath.  It was kind of like being fucked for the first time–completely consuming.  We were there for a while, fucking and choking and I let go more than I have in a long time during sex.  I ran my nails down his back and with each scratch, he yelled in pleasure.  I’m more of a quiet player but I kind of like hearing other people let it out.  When he left, every inch of his back was streaked with red.

Tags: BDSM, breath play, erotic asphyxiation

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