Self-Portrait as Erotic Asphyxiation

i place myself in the dungeon play
room, where metal braids into metal and hangs

off the ceiling, slide into leather straps,
to match the anon dom

in wet black leather
with fixed studs across shoulders and chest.

i free my muscles
into the clamps.

The signal:

synthetic latex gloves
smacking on cognizant skin.

On my command,

the cuffs come out, bond
my wrists above my head and restrain
my toes from stroking the ash slate.

One hand rivets my trachea,
the other teases with a flogger

then strikes—nerve receptors
transmit to my larynx, stopping short

of a moan, groaning oh god!
but the sound travels into myself—

a power in my consenting silence.

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