Please be tender when you cut me down

The most beautiful line ever.

From Viewpoints on Asphyxiophilia...

PLEASE BE TENDER WHEN YOU CUT ME DOWN

by Knud Romer Joergensen, Copyright 1995

An elderly, naked man, hands and genitals tied up, hanged. Autoerotic fatalities entered medical literature, when the german doctor Bernt took a special interest in this case in his paper on suicides (1821). But he reached the wrong conclusion and mistook it for a suicide with an insane twist. It took another century before attention was paid to the sexual aspects of such death scenarios. Again, it was a german forensic, Ziemke, who in 1926 finally identified and consistently described these cases as accidental deaths caused by strangulation as a means to sexual arousal.

1. The upright hangman

In the times of public executions it was common knowledge that hangings occasionally provoked erection and ejaculation. This reflex is probably caused by the snapping of the spine, but it could easily be misinterpreted as a sign of sexual pleasure. An engraving by Duumlrer shows a torture chamber filled with skeletons in chains, a hanged man ejaculating, and another being whipped. There are a number of references in 18th century literature. The most prominent is found in Marquis de Sade's "Justine" (1791), where Thirhse helps Roland achieve an orgasm by hanging him briefly. Afterwards, he exclaims: "Oh, Thirhse! Oh, these feelings are undescribable! They exceed everything!"

Orgasm in French is called le petit mort or the little death.

From WHEN ALL IS SAID AND DONE LIFE KILLS YOUR ASS:

My goal is to get off and escape without passing out and dying, all the while cutting the edge closer, chasing the fear and aiding the "suspension of disbelief". Sometimes my imagination beats my body there, and it's a quick, intense orgasm, but sometimes it's more laborious, requiring great effort, to achieve the drenched, exhausted, depleted, soul satisfying satiation I'm after.

Doing yourself is about selfishness. It's about control over timing, sensation, fantasy, intensity, all without apology or guilt. It's about needs and fears. The need to take our physical body where we found pleasure as youths (with or without the unhealthy psychological baggage). The fear of inability to articulate our desires to a partner. The fear of their physical (in)ability to comply (God, if tops could only read minds!). The fear of being judged and then rejected. It's about chasing emotions, sensations, fantasies, intensities, taboo's, and creating a context that allows suspension of disbelief long enough to orgasm.

Getting close to panic and death excites me. At ages 5, 7, & 12, I experienced near drownings and became fascinated with pre-panic breath deprivation. My mother was a religious zealot, and when she caught me masturbating at an early age, told me "God kills masturbators". Self gratification equals death. Well, during my early teens I negotiated with God nightly, "I promise this will be the last time I beat off if you'll just will let me live...no, really". It's easy to see why death stole my imagination. If you fear something enough, and tease it often without penalty, you may become an expert at chasing it. I'm talented with mechanical devices and possess self-control, which allows me to cut the edge close while lowering my actual risk factor. As Dirty Harry said "a man's got to know his limitations". Do I want to die? No. I want to live so I can keep pursuing the pleasures I get from stalking death's intensity. I'm as insane as any other danger seeker, from an Evil Kinevil wanna-be, to a cop, fireman, or soldier, but my motives are easier to understand, self-gratification.

When death seems inevitable, quickly approaching, when we know escape has been taken away, no stopping the inevitable machinations of our demise, we reject resignation. We fight with commitment and unsuspected strength, for in that fight we find our reward. We are never more awake, more alert, more alive than in the battle with death. Panic awakens us to all that is life. In panic, we bloom, there is no monotony or routine. "Embrace fear" is our mantra. Each time we win the combat, emptiness invades our soul, we wait, anxiously anticipating the next battle. If we're defeated, and die, we have no regrets, we've reaped the rewards of our bravery, and we've savored the extreme passions and intensities of our being. Recriminations, justifications and speculations will be left to those who have chosen a safer, more sedate existence. They are not "wrong" for their choice, nor are we for ours.

Life is not safe! Life is not benevolent! life is not consensual! There is only living what stretches out before us, honoring our chosen moral integrity, for in the end, when all is said and done, "life kills your ass".

"cutting the edge close." Love that.

"death stole my imagination."

"in panic, we bloom"