Plastic Bag Breath Play: Tied to a tree, ball gagged, T fastens a plastic bag over my head with a leather dog collar. Here is a short bagging clip from one of our "capture" scenes (where T "captures" me and forces me to become her ponyboy). I was resistent to accepting my new tack, so in a fit of diabolical inspiration, T fastened a plastic bag over my head until I caved to her demands. I was a little panicky near the end I'll admit. If the video isn't displaying properly, you can try the direct link. The breath play video is also available in 720p.
Breath play is one of those things that excites and terrifies me. I didn't always think this way. Well, I always found breath play hot, or, at least the idea of breath play, but I never found it scary until today. Today I gained a real appreciation for the power of breath play and what it is to be helpless at the hands of another.
We've done light breath play before, so light actually, that it probably shouldn't even be called breath play: things like T playfully pinching my nostrils shut when I'm cleave gagged, or briefly putting her hand over the nose holes of a leather face hood.
In those situations, it's purely playful and symbolic, not even really achieving a psychological effect because it happens for such a short period of time (enough time to grab my attention for sure, but not enough to actually cause anything close to panic or really even make me feel short of breath - we're talking seconds here).
However, today T wanted to do a capture scene. I would be the "unwilling" victim, and she would grab me from the house and transform me into her horse, forced to work, act, and live like a beast of burden, pulling her in a cart around the property and generally used like livestock.
At the start, I didn't know it would involve any breath play (actually I didn't figure it out until the bag was already over my head and cinched closed by the collar), and honestly I don't think T intended to do any breath play; she just sort of improvised.
Anyway, the scene started simply enough with me strolling around the garden and pretending to be surprised when she snuck up behind me and pulled a huge ball gag into my mouth before tightening it down (perhaps a little too eagerly). Reflexively I reached up to pull the gag out, and she took that opportunity to cuff my hands together in front of me (it's sort of amazing how quickly I could end up bound and gagged).
While I concentrated on pulling my wrists out of the cuffs, she had my legs loosely tied together with a short amount of twine and tripped me so I fell backwards (she was nice enough to catch my fall so I had a gentle landing on my back). She was on top of me as soon as I hit the ground, straddling me at the waist while she pulled my shirt over my head, blocking my vision.
With a surprisingly quick movement, T pulled my shirt up higher, just below the handcuffs. She then bound my wrists together with black nylon rope, cinching them together tightly before unlocking the cuffs and pulling my shirt the rest of the way off, leaving me shirtless and handcuff-less, but bound tighter than before thanks to the rope.
She did the same with my pants, pulling them down to my ankles where she undid the twine and pulled them off my legs. With the pants out of the way, T bound my ankles with another length of the nylon rope.
In less than a minute, I found myself undressed, bound hand and foot and gagged, watching T busily tie a long length of rope to my wrist bindings to use as a lead rope.
As she pulled me along the grass by the makeshift lead - forcing me to hop frantically to keep from falling forward - I started to protest behind the gag. She was mostly in control at this point, but with my wrists in front of me, and the gag not locked on, I had a chance of escaping.
When we reached the edge of the grass, I noticed that she had set out the pony gear (bridle, harness, hooves and all) in the shade of some trees.
I figured I would have the best chance of escaping while she was trying to get me into the gear.
She got into role by telling me that she would be turning me into a horse, that I would be her pony from now on. I took the cue and started struggling against my bonds and making all kinds of protesting sounds around the ball gag.
T yanked hard on the lead attached to my wrist bindings, causing me to hop quickly forward, closer to all the tack. She then threw the lead rope over a branch directly above me. After going around the branch, the free end of the rope dropped back down lazily until T snatched it out of the air and pulled down forcefully, causing my hands to raise up above me. When my wrists were around eye level, she tied the rope off to the branch of another tree, out of my reach of course.
While she had her back turned preparing the tack, I felt around as best I could to unbuckle the gag. It was surprisingly difficult with my back against the tree and me unable to lower my wrists below eye level. I had to stand on my toes to bring the gag strap close to my fingers.
T must have sensed what I was doing (more likely, I was much louder than I thought I was being) because she whirled around, bridle and harness in hand. She didn't scold me, but instead dropped the harness and walked over to me with the bridle.
I shrank back as best I could (which wasn't much since my back was quite literally against the tree) as she lifted the bridle (bitless at this point; she had not yet decided on which bit to use presumably). I started shaking my head as she brought it closer, making it impossible for her to get any part of it on my head.
"Do you really want to do this the hard way?" she asked.
In response I swore at her through the gag.
She dropped the bridle and grabbed a plastic bag with an assortment of bits (I didn't know what she had up her sleeve at this point). She glanced at the ground around her where an assortment of pony tack and random bondage gear lay scattered about, finally eyeing the thick, 2" leather studded dog collar that we almost never use. T picked up the collar.
I thought this was an interesting turn of events, but I was still completely clueless.
Making eye contact with me, she upended the plastic bag of bits, which jangled loudly as they tangled together on their way to the ground. Still, I couldn't look away from her eyes.
Her eyes gave me the first sense of foreboding.
Keeping eye contact, she walked up until she was inches away from my face. I barely had time to see her lips curl ever so slightly before, with a swish, the plastic bag, now empty of bits but still smelling subtly of rubber and leather, was over my head.
The dog collar was fastened around my neck snugly, bordering on too tight, before I could react.
I bobbed my head a little trying to dislodge the bag. We had never done any plastic bag play before, and I was a little scared.
I felt her move back away from my head, and I heard a rustling. A moment later, I felt my arms being pulled up above my head, higher and higher, until I was nearly on my toes.
More rustling and creaking, presumably as she retied the rope holding my arms above my head, and then T's voice telling me that we would wait here until I was ready to accept my bridle.
Then all was quiet.
The fear built quickly.
We'd never done anything like this before. We'd barely even talked about anything like this. I couldn't even make worried eye contact with her: the plastic bad was opaque. I couldn't see anything but a sea of white plastic.
On top of the disorienting whiteout, I had to strain to hear anything beyond the rustling of the bag as expanded and contracted with each breath.
I told myself to be calm, but I just couldn't do it, not completely. I'm not claustrophobic, but the bag just felt so constricting.
Each inhale brought the plastic closer to my nostrils. Each exhale Every breath warmed the air in the bag to suffocating levels.
My breathing become shorter as I plastic intruded into my nostrils. I cut short each inhale earlier and earlier for fear of the plastic getting stuck and plugging my nose shut.
I tried to pull my head back to make more room in front of my face, but there was nowhere to go with the tree behind me. I tried shaking my head, but that seemed to make things worse: the plastic brushed up against my face, went around the ball gag into my mouth, and up into my nose.
I made a sharp exhale through my nose in an effort to push the plastic out and away, but that seemed to just push any remaining air out of the bag and bring the plastic closer still.
The air in the bag was warm and humid...and bad. It burned on each inhale.
I was approaching sheer panic. I couldn't breathe.
The plastic kept encroaching on my face. I couldn't hold it back from my nostrils and longer. Each attempt to inhale through my nose ended progressively earlier, cutoff by the plastic being pulled into my nostrils, sealing them closed.
I started breathing around the gag, which wasn't yet completely sealed by the plastic, but the air that came through wasn't air any longer. And each breath around the gag brought the plastic closer and closer until finally I was pulling in the plastic of the bag around the ball.
I tried my nostrils again, but the plastic cut them off immediately. I tried inhaling around the ball gag again, but the plastic had finally sealed that off as well.
At last, I was in full panic mode, but I had no breath to call out (I would later find out that it took less than two minutes).
It was right at that moment, surrounded by acrid air and with the plastic sealing up my mouth and nose that T pulled the bag off my head.
I drank up the cool, clean air as it washed against my face. I hadn’t quite caught my breath when she started pulling the bag back down, and I shook my head convulsively no.
T paused with bag above my head and asked if I would be a good boy.
I nodded my head yes, and kept nodding even as she dropped the bag to the ground.