As an escort, I had strict rules. Among them, never give up control. That included using only my own equipment. Nipple clamps, paddles, floggers, or anything that could inflict pain had to be my own. And I had tested each item to be ‘soft’ enough to avoid serious injury, even if a client was a bit too rough.

Beginning with one of my early D/s relationships, I had always been curious about edge play. Just to be clear, when I say edge play, it covers anything that could result in accidental serious injury or even death. I do not consider consensual activities that result in bruises or other minor skin damage as edge play.

Edgeplay is never 100 percent safe. That much should be clear to anyone who engages in even basic BDSM play. Even the best safeguards can go wrong. The power can go out, friends don’t show up, sudden dizziness occurs; the list goes on and on.

I have done things I should never have done. Oddly enough, realizing how dangerous it was made me want to do more of it, just safer.

My personal kink is breathplay. The first time I did it, I was in a relationship with a Dom who was into more extreme play than I was.

We didn’t have much money, so improvisation was our daily routine. I remember him coming home one evening with a roll of duct tape. There was nothing to fix, and he was not particularly handy around his house. Later that evening, I found out what the tape was good for.

He took a basic plastic bag and pulled it over my head, my hands cuffed behind my back. I could see through the bag as he started to wrap the duct tape around my neck. Not tight, just enough to make it air-tight. He left me alone for a while, before wrapping more duct tape around my head. With a small pencil, he poked a breathing hole through the bag and continued to wrap the tape ever more tightly around my head.

In the end, I could still breathe, although my head was in multiple layers of duct tape and a small hole was my only air supply. He continued with layer after layer until my head felt completely isolated. Not a sound, no sight, I was unable to move my jaws, even shaping my lips to find the airhole was a struggle.

Then he began to fuck me. And I don’t mean gently. No, he liked it rough. I had no sense of orientation, and he pounded his cock hard into my pussy. He tossed me around, fucked me from behind like I was a worthless piece of shit.

I totally loved it. Not just being used, but the struggle for air, the constant fear that I could not get enough and would pass out. Seriously, I thought I was not going to survive this night, but it was a euphoric, near-death-like experience. I had no idea how close I came to passing out or brain damage. I just remember the relief, and exhaustion, after he meticulously unwrapped the tape and removed the plastic bag.

In hindsight, this was crazy dangerous. There are so many elements that could have made this a deadly tragedy, I cannot even begin to count them. So, don’t ever do this!

The euphoria, the starvation from oxygen, is definitely always dangerous. But I love it to this day. I do it more safely, but that never means completely safe. I don’t do it for extended periods. I’ve learned a lot more about the effects of different ways of breath control on the brain. How neurotransmitters are affected by lack of oxygen (the answer is, it’s unpredictable), and where brain damage begins to set in.

All this sounds like I should never do it again. Nothing is worth messing with one’s brain. And, yet, I do. At least a little.

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