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The online diary of an ethical pervert.

Wednesday, 25 June 2008

Not drowning, but waving

Spent the night with The Photographer yesterday. We were in the bath when he took hold of my hair and gently lowered my face partially into the water. When I didn't struggle he pushed me under for a few seconds. Then did it again, faster and with a more force. I automatically jerked my neck upwards slightly so he had to press harder. I was therefore less prepared so when I did go under the water went into my mouth and nose.

Again, I was under for barely moments but the effect on my body was instantaneous: my heart started to race as adrenaline thundered through my veins and I wasn't precisely panicking but the feeling was very similar. I was extremely excited and turned on, both in response to the sensation itself and also the thoughts of torture flashing through my mind. Physically I was not only held in this soothing but hostile element but also deprived of my senses: my eyes had closed automatically, I could not hear anything. And of course, I could not breathe.

Once I was back above the water, gasping for air a little, hair dripping about my face, he held me to him. Leaning against his chest, I felt the same sensations of desire, fear and a certain calm that being hooded inspires in me. An anihilation of self. The willingness to have autonomy removed and the power of deferred authority. An immersive surrender.

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