Erotic Asphyxiation and Helplessness

When I saw that the current Kink of the Week prompt was erotic asphyxiation, my heart leapt. I made a note of it in the Google Doc I use to brainstorm ideas. It seemed like the perfect topic for me to write about, especially at this point in my life.

I’m doing a lot of grown-up things at the moment. I’ve just been accepted onto my Master’s course, for one thing, which feels huge and daunting and exciting all at once. Just over a week ago, I collected the key to my new flat and moved all my stuff into it. And, between the key-collection and the stuff-moving, I bought hosting for my blog, moved everything from my WordPress site to my own shiny new site, and spent multiple days stressing about the fact that I couldn’t get hyperlinks to show up in Merriweather because changing fonts in CSS is an absolute fucker. In so many ways, I’ve been an entire adult, doing adult things.

So, naturally, I’ve been even more inclined towards erotic asphyxiation than usual.

A huge number of my kinks are rooted in a desire to be helpless in a controlled setting. There’s two parts to the appeal of helplessness for me. The first is that, when I’m helpless, I’m also not responsible. Of course I don’t have to worry about my blog – I should be worrying about the fact that there’s no air reaching my lungs! I like the fogginess associated with erotic asphyxiation, even when there’s no oxygen deprivation happening. It’s a combination of subspace making me pliable and vacant, and survival instinct silencing all thoughts that aren’t related to getting some fucking air into my body. Sometimes, when my Daddy takes his hand off my throat, I’ll say, “I’m stupid,” to indicate that I’ve lost the capacity for rational thought in the most pleasant way possible.

The second lovely thing about being helpless is that, in this context, it’s finite. I’ve spent a lot of time recently feeling helpless and overwhelmed about “real life” – I couldn’t figure out how to solve the confusion over WiFi in my new flat, or how to make my Twitter widget display properly on my new site. That kind of helplessness is finite too, but it depends on me doing things to solve the problem at hand. By contrast, the helplessness I feel when someone’s hand wraps around my throat will end without me doing anything. I just have to lean into the sensations of fogginess and mild panic until I’m allowed to breathe again. It’s also a kind of helplessness that puts everything else into perspective, because even when it’s practised as safely as possible, erotic asphyxiation is a matter of life and death. I’m literally putting my life into someone else’s hands, along with my throat.

I specifically like hands around my throat because it makes me feel small, and trapped. There’s no way for me to wriggle out of it, unlike with smothering – my jaw hyperextends, so I can always manage to suck some air in through my mouth when someone’s trying to smother me, unless they’re using a pillow and are exceptionally thorough. When someone puts their hand on my throat, though, they don’t even need to try and blood-choke me or close off my air supply; I’ll just hold my breath in a Pavlovian display of obedience. Even when the asphyxiation itself isn’t rendering me helpless, my own desire to please rules my brain and my lungs.

Obviously, erotic asphyxiation is considered edge play because it’s super high-risk. Its edginess is part of its appeal to me, though, because letting somebody control my oxygen intake feels like the ultimate act of devotion. Staring vacantly into a partner’s face with black spots of oxygen deprivation floating in the edges of my vision makes me feel connected to them and possessed by them. Erotic asphyxiation is part of so many of my scenes with my Daddy, including rope ones and ones with fuckin’, because it’s shorthand for, “I trust you. Do what you will with me. My body and soul are yours.”

Even writing about the fuzziness I experience when engaging with breath play has relaxed me. Knowing that, no matter what’s stressing me out, I can get the sense choked out of me is deeply comforting, and the thought of it alone has cheered me up after a couple of very challenging weeks – so I’d like to thank Molly for the prompt, and encourage my readers to go and look at the other Kink of the Week posts inspired by it!

A red lipstick kiss mark, which contains a link to the Kink of the Week page, where you can find others' posts on erotic asphyxiation

The Secret Sixth Love Language: Please Promote My Posts

A dark pink on light pink version of Twitter's Retweet icon, to encourage you to share my sex blog with your friends!

This post is part of Mx Nillin’s Blogger Love Language prompt. Make sure to go give some of the other bloggers using this some love!


Y’all probably know that I love meta-communication and communication frameworks (like the scripts I suggested for talking to your partner about kink – click here). I’m getting really good at saying, “Tell me I’m cute!” or, “I could use some reassurance that you don’t intend to replace me,” and giving the people in my life the ability to support me, because they want to support me and they’re not psychic. After a whole lot of work in therapy about whether or not I am “a pain in the arse” (apparently I’m not), I’ve come to realise that making these requests is actually a nice thing to do for people who love me, and not a big ol’ inconvenience, because I’m just supplying them with information, and they can use that information to reach any personal goals they have which are attached to looking after me.

One way to supply people with that information quickly and easily is to use an existing, well-known framework. One such framework would be the five “love languages”, five categories of actions that people commonly use to express affection. They are, in short: gift-giving or -receiving; physical touch; sharing quality time; words of affirmation, and acts of service. If both you and the person you’re communicating with are familiar with, you can just say, “Oh, my primary love language for receiving is words of affirmation,” as a useful shorthand for, “I’m most likely to understand and accept that you’re expressing affection and the notion that I’m a worthwhile human being if you say nice things to or about me, rather than other things like buying me presents.” It’s a brilliant framework to have available.

Its brilliance is one of the reasons I’m excited about Mx Nillin’s blogging prompt. Using the existing love languages means that you can communicate the foundation of your methods for receiving love really quickly, leaving you with plenty of words to discuss the finer details. Making a meme of it means that people feel permitted to ask for the support that they want or need, because as sex bloggers and as people in an online space, we often feel like asking for support gives an impression of desperation, sell-outy-ness, spamminess and/or arrogance. I’m really glad that Mx Nillin has created a space specifically for us sex bloggers to state what kind of love we benefit the most from, and I’m excited to learn about the love my peers would like to receive.

With all that said, I am going to be an awkward little bastard and state that, actually, in the world of blogging specifically, the best way to love me and my work doesn’t slot neatly into any of the five love languages. The thing that gives me the BIGGEST warm fuzzies every time isn’t words of affirmation (like a comment) or gifts (like Patreon pledges), it’s sharing. Retweeting, linking to or mentioning my work on social media will make me squeal, out loud with my actual mouth, every single time.

I guess that the sharing part is an act of service, and when you link to my work, you might pair it with some words of affirmation – but, ultimately, it’s affirming in and of itself. You’re telling me, “I thought your stuff was worthwhile enough to show other human beings.” You’re also telling me, “I thought your stuff was worthwhile enough to press at least one additional button on my phone or computer.” Knowing that a reader thinks my work might move people, help people and/or titillate people feels like a step up from just knowing that they themselves enjoyed it, and it makes blogging feel like more than a self-indulgent hobby. If people think my work is important enough to share, I feel like it’s important enough to persevere with – even if I’m panicking about the end of the fucking world.

I wanted to get the whole “share my shit” thing out there because I think it’ll ring true for a lot of bloggers, but they might not feel “allowed” to state that it’s their blogging love language, either because it falls outside of the original five or because it seems demanding, cheeky or otherwise unreasonable. I wanted to break the ice early in September and grant other people space to say, “Hey, actually, share my things, please,” in part as a way to pay forward the awesome thing that Mx Nillin has done for our community in creating and hosting this meme on their own blog. Go and show them some love, too!

A badge made by Mx Nillin that says "Blogger Love Language" in a nice cursive font. In the background there are two chat-style bubbles, one blue and one green, each containing a love heart. The rest of the background is pastel pink and features a link to Mx Nillin's site, www.mxnillin.com


Want to help me write more, sleep more and buy more sex toys? Support me on Patreon, and maybe share the link with your friends and followers – it’s quick, easy and makes me smile!