Vista published a post recently over at her Sexual Destinies blog that caught me eye. She was writing about stress reactions and her feeling of panic when being blindfolded and gently restrained. I find those kind of reactions fascinating, as they can be simultaneously very intense and yet very illogical. I don’t mean that in a pejorative sense. There’s no right or wrong way to react to these situations. It’s just that in hindsight the strength of the reaction can seem very out of proportion to the specific stimulus that triggered it.
I’ve written about pain in the past, and commented on the fact that it’s not additive. A more intense pain in one location can distract from a mild pain elsewhere. The body has clearly evolved to direct attention to the single point that’s currently experiencing the greatest damage. Stress doesn’t seem to work that way. It is additive, each new stressful element building on the one before and pushing you closer to your panic threshold. This means that the final thing that tips someone over the edge may seem relatively minor when considered on its own.
I experienced this effect in a scene with Lydia a couple of months ago. We were doing some heavy bondage and CBT. She’d started with a rope harness, lashing my arms to my sides and pulling my legs into a frogtie. Over this she’d layered plastic wrap, carefully encasing my limbs and body, mummifying me completely from the neck to my toes. Not content with this level of restriction, she’d then wrapped my entire body in duct tape, creating a thicker encasing shell. The final touch was a duct tape gag and blindfold, rendering me mute and blind. The only thing uncovered was my cock, which she proceeded to slap and beat.
A year or two earlier we’d have never made it that far into the scene. I’d have been freaking out at the degree of restriction. But practice makes perfect and although it was intense, I was breathing through it and getting nicely spacey. Then my right hand started to get a little uncomfortable. It had moved under the wrapping and the wrist was pressing against the top of my hip bone. The absolute level of discomfort was very low, almost trivial, but it just tipped me over the edge. I started to lose perspective of where I was, my breathing became shallow and an overwhelming sense of ‘I need to deal with this now’ pushed aside me attempts to relax into the bondage. Lydia, expert that she is, spotted the change in my body instantly and removed the blindfold and gag. That was enough to bring me back, kill the panic, and let us deal with the situation.
Logically, in terms of possible things to panic about, a little muscle discomfort in my hand should have been well down the list. I was mummified in plastic wrap, had a duct taped head and someone was slapping my cock around with a pointy stick. They all sound like pretty good reasons to panic. Not a hand twinge akin to writers cramp. Yet that was the one thing that pushed me over the line. All the others had done the job of getting me close to it in the first place.
For an image I thought it’d be appropriate to run with something featuring mummification. In this case it’s a Divine Bitches shoot featuring Mistress Madeline and Kade, plus a lot of fabric wrap.
