Name one limit you have consensually overcome. Why was it a limit and what enabled you to overcome it?
Breath play used to scare me quite a bit, and now it is something that I crave.
I wrote about my early reactions to breath play back in 2012. It was probably the classic case of being afraid of or resisting the very thing you crave.
This was never a limit that Master explicitly asked to push. The topic would perhaps come up with videos we watched. Through time, I enjoyed things like burying my face into His chest and creating the sensation of not being able to breathe. Eventually, He did things like placing his hand over my mouth for a second and then telling me to cum. He’s even sometimes squeezed my throat then prompted me to cum. No words are needed now, and I cum as soon as He “takes my breath away.”
There is a difference, though, in dancing up to and at the edge of a limit and actually crossing it.
This week, I looked up at Him during sex and said, “Choke me. Choke me, please.”
While I might have said I overcame my breath play limit a while ago since we’ve been incorporating it into sex for a few years now, the moment of asking to be choked was a turning point.
Clearly, consent is paramount to this thing we do. There is a subtlety to consent, though, that is rarely discussed and, sadly, few may discover.
Being asked to do something is one thing. Asking for what you crave is a deeper level of submission.
Asking for what you crave requires self-knowledge and rapport with yourself.
Asking for what you crave requires connection to your internal compass.
Asking for what you crave requires reaching for and claiming your desires.
Being told what to do may satisfy an itch but asking and reaching for what you want is what satisfies your craving.
Now, Master and I also encountered something a bit scary with breath play this week. We suspect through holding my breath and the resulting the pressure on my ears, I ended up dislodging some crystals in my inner ear that caused severe vertigo when I turned my head.
Both of us did not grasp what was happening at first. We thought it was an emotional reaction as my body and soul were experiencing deeper levels of submission.
In the moment, I hugged Master tightly and said, “I’m scared.”
He asked if I was scared of losing control, and I was. While it seemed emotional at first, my body was experiencing this vertigo when I moved my head, intensifying that feeling of being out of control.
When we understood this was not merely an emotional reaction, it was sobering. Something physically went wrong during our play.
Master apologized for his role in bringing this on. While I appreciated that, I was not looking for where to place the blame.
In the past, Master and I have had a lot of discussions about faith. What does it mean to take a leap of faith? How safe does one have to feel to take a leap of faith? For a very long time, I was searching for a sense of safety before leaping. Having Master say, “Trust me. I’ll always take care of you,” never seemed like enough.
When this mishap with breath play occurred, I did not question trusting Him and that He’ll always take care of me. In fact, the overall experience deepened my trust in Him because I had the experience of asking for what I crave and having Him fulfill that.
So, when things went awry, it didn’t feel like He asked me to do something without calculating my safety enough; it felt like we were in this together. While I didn’t think much about it in the moment, I recognize how big of a shift that is as I reflect on where I’ve been and how far I’ve come.
What enabled me to overcome my limit? Trust is a huge factor, and I now realize that trusting Him was never going to be enough. Trusting myself first was most important, which – in turn – makes trusting Him as natural as breathing.