During his business trip to Shanghai at the end of January, a German submissive contacted me with a very specific craving: a session combining mummification with shiny PVC facesitting. He had long fantasized about being rendered completely helpless beneath me—sealed, restricted, and deprived of air. I was happy to realize that fantasy for him.
We began in his hotel room. Following my instructions, he bound himself to the bed, wrists and ankles secured with ropes I had prepared in advance. By the time I stepped closer, his breathing was already shallow with anticipation. I took my time pulling on my glossy, skin-tight PVC pants, letting the moment stretch. The vinyl clung to my legs and hips, catching the light with every movement, emitting that unmistakable creak. When I climbed over him and straddled his chest, he could feel both the weight and the cold, unyielding shine pressing down.
To establish control, I leaned forward and looped a soft bondage cord around his neck. The pressure was light at first—deliberate, controlled—just enough to make him aware that his breath now belonged to me. I tugged gently, watching his reaction closely as his pulse quickened and his eyes widened. It was a measured introduction: a reminder of hierarchy, of surrender.
Then came the real denial.
I shifted my weight and settled fully onto his face, the shiny PVC sealing over his nose and mouth. The material molded perfectly, creating an airtight barrier. I worked in five intentional rounds, lifting just enough between each to allow a frantic inhale before lowering myself again. His body reacted instinctively beneath me, straining against the ropes, muffled sounds trapped under the vinyl. I remained calm and composed throughout, counting silently, controlling every second of his air. When I finally allowed him a longer breath at the end, he gasped that the sensation was pure heaven—total surrender, intoxicating helplessness.
Afterward, I released him from the bed and ordered him to stand. It was time for the mummification. I began wrapping his upper body with strong bondage tape, layer by layer, pinning his arms firmly to his sides. Each strip tightened the enclosure, compressing his torso and limiting his movement. With every pass, his body became more rigid, more contained, his freedom disappearing under the growing cocoon.
Once his upper body was fully taped from shoulders to waist, I pushed him backward onto the bed. Unable to catch himself, he fell helplessly, the taped restraint making even the smallest movement useless. I climbed over him again, positioning myself over his face once more. This time, the PVC pressed not only against his mouth but against the solid, taped prison of his chest as I sat fully, adding my weight to the restriction.
Beneath me, he was reduced to exactly what he had desired to be: bound, breath-controlled, immobilized. The combination of mummification, oxygen denial, and complete helplessness sent him deep into subspace—trembling, silent, and utterly devoted.