Bruises

I have a love.


It's not one I usually admit to. I certainly don't tell others often. I'm actually terrified of my love. In the past when people have stumbled across it, I play coy. I don't tell them how much I love it.


My love is a hand around the throat.


I don't mean a touch. I mean hard. Hard enough that I can't breathe at all. Until my vision goes dark and I pass out.


I know - I can hear the danger lectures... Asphyxia is a dangerous fetish.


Nonetheless, I have a newish friend. He happily obliges my fetish. He's responsible (non drinker, non smoker, non drugger). He happily holds my neck until I faint. Until I've had enough.


I don't play alone, I'm not interested in dying. I'm just addicted to that rush. 


Tonight, my new friend held my throat, and watched me gasp for air. I hate to gasp. So he squeezed tighter. He watched my eyes until I fainted, then held me as the hallucinations set in. He stroked my hair and held me close as the shaking set in. As it subsided, he'd squeeze me close, hug me, and watch my eyes reopen.


The bruises are forming already. I can feel them on my neck, around my trachea, along the arteries.


Rumour has it this is what cocaine is like. I can see why people get addicted. I have to wait until I can feel it again. 


Patience.