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The online diary of an ethical pervert.

Tuesday, 29 December 2009


I have a new favourite thing - vacuum beds (no, that's not me in the image, I'm afraid). Sliding in to the cool, slinky folds I'm a little apprehensive; I have had occasional brushes with claustrophobia in the past and am slightly nervous about a possible recurrence, however this is massively overwritten by my excitement at trying out something I have always been attracted to. The immobilisation combined with the complete covering hits a lot of my buttons. The plastic is slippery and soft, it feels wet but isn't. It is actually quite light and very cool to the touch, I'd expected something heavier, more along the lines of wetsuit material. I'm on my back, legs spread, arms a little away from my sides, a surgical mask fits over my mouth and nose. Everything is loose for a few seconds, then I hear the noise of a vacuum start up and the air is pulled out from the bag. The material tightens around me, most conspicuously around my head and face, although there is a noticeably pull around my cunt, and I think I raise up slightly in reaction to it before settling back down to enjoy the sensation. I can't hear very well at all, and there's a knock-on effect of knowing my air supply is coming through a tube, which is in the control of Captain.

I open my eyes into blackness to see what I can see. Nothing. No, not quite. There's a white circle of retina burn in the centre of my vision, like I'm looking at a spot of light far, far away as my body falls backwards. I feel my breathing slow and I'm reminded of hypnotic and trance states, everything is very quiet and I am able to drop very easily into a pleasingly fuzzy state. It's a little like being underwater, very much like a flotation tank, there's a sense of pressure upon me although I know there is no actual weight. I feel weightless. Floating and with a supreme sense of safety, I am hidden, protected and unassailable. Air ebbs back in and the material loosens, the weight vanishes. Immediately I miss it, saddened with regret, then the vacuum starts up again and, blissfully, the black waves close over me once again.

He closes off my air supply. First a brief gasp, then more, longer pauses. Unlike having a hand over my mouth, this feels more like drowning. I make the physical actions of breathing in, but there is no oxygen with which to expand my lungs, instead of the channel of air, there is emptiness, a wall of not-air, invisible and palpable. I am choking on nothing. He releases me from the line, and like a fish I slip from the hook and back into the water. I can feel his fingers running over my body, playing with my clit, my nipple piercings, stroking my face. It feels smooth and a little warm with his heat, but also clinical, removed. I briefly move up to meet his, but both the pull of the deep, inky blackness and my own reservations about connecting with him in this personal and needy way make me stop. I lie back into whatever sensations he wants to deliver, ready and receptive. There is a smell of chemicals in the air, which I later find out is amyl nitrite, at the time I was unsure whether it was real or whether I was imagining it, as I fell even deeper. I'm soon roused from my reverie, by light, then harder blows to the inside and tops of my thighs. They penetrate both my physical relaxation and self-indulgent image of protection. I am not very distressed by this, as such, possibly because I'm relatively deep by this stage and also in part because the pain is a needed contrast. A required punctuation in my experience, reminding me that I am subject to the whims of an outside force, whether pleasurable or painful. A little part of me is annoyed that my calm has been interrupted, but another part is glad that it happened.

The vacuum stops once more, and air returns all around me, the zip is unfastened but I don't move. Warm liquid splashes over me, body temperature. My first thought is water. My second thought turns out to be more accurate - urine. Strangely, or perhaps not, I'm more interested in finding out which it is than worrying about what it might be. There's enough space around my face mask to reach out with my tongue to taste, but I'm still none the wiser until later on when I'm finally out. I had often wondered whether I would find the experience of being urinated on thrilling or humiliating (I'd hoped for both), as it is, it was more of an habitual action, something perfectly normal and acceptable in the circumstances that gave no more impact than the physical - that of being sprayed with warm liquid. Either way, I was wet and the plastic around me became more slippy. When the air is pulled out again, I feel more cocooned, the sensation of being underwater is much stronger - I can hear the bubbles in the liquid which packs around my eyes and ears enhancing my submersion.

In the darkness, I mused on whether I was actually concerned about being covered in piss. I decided that I wasn't, and that was a bit of a shame.
Perhaps it was the fact that there was no outside context, I was fairly relaxed by that point and couldn't see what was happening so was reasonably unaware. Additionally, given that I'm not squeamish about the act itself - the main reason I'd never done it before was simply that I'd never done it before, rather than any reticence. Finally, I think that this is another area where the D/s and interpersonal elements play a strong point with respect to impact. As with anything psychological, which humiliation certainly is, I think that there needs to be an outstanding sympathetic connection to fuck around with - real feelings, in short. Which we don't really have much beyond general mutual interest, which is very enjoyable, but not very deep. My major focus is on his enjoyment and my own physical experiences so it was more of a positive than anything else: it was nice to be convenient, to be used. He did it to me, therefore he must have wanted to, and it was an interesting feeling, there was not much more to it. I'd like to think that there could be more impact, in different circumstances, and certainly with another context. Something to file for later, perhaps.

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