Consent to a practice does not mean consent to its continuation under all circumstances
The need for continuous verification that consent remains valid.
· 7 min read
Consent is sometimes understood as a decision whose validity only needs to be confirmed at the beginning of a session. This view, however, overlooks one crucial distinction—the difference between consenting to a practice and accepting the risks associated with it.
Consent to a practice primarily concerns another person’s actions: what they may do, to what extent, under what conditions, and for how long. When a model consents to a particular form of tying, they give the rigger permission to carry out the agreed activity within the agreed boundaries. They may also accept that the experience could provoke fear, panic, freezing, shame, dissociation, or another unforeseen reaction.
Accepting this risk, however, does not amount to advance consent for the activity to continue unchanged once the risk materialises. Information about a risk enables a person to decide whether to enter a situation. It does not determine in advance what should happen if that risk actually occurs.
It is therefore not enough to say: “But we discussed beforehand that this might happen.”
Such a statement confirms that the risk was communicated. It does not, however, answer whether the response to it was appropriate, whether the person being tied was still able to influence the situation, or whether their current state allowed their original consent to be regarded as ongoing.
A reaction is not a decision. The body and mind may respond to a situation without conscious choice, sometimes even in contradiction to it. A person may want to continue while simultaneously feeling afraid. They may want to stop even though their body is responding with arousal. They may become rigid, stop speaking, or mechanically follow instructions without wanting the activity to continue.
A positive bodily response therefore does not, in itself, prove the presence of consent. Likewise, crying, trembling, or fear do not automatically prove that consent has been violated. Reactions and consent exist on different levels. A reaction does, however, provide new information that may alter the conditions under which further consent is possible.
This distinction explains why even a situation agreed upon in advance may be experienced subjectively as a violation of consent. An agreement does not guarantee that a person will continue to perceive the situation as something they are still choosing throughout its duration. If their body or mind begins to experience the situation as a threat, helplessness, or loss of control, their sense of authorship over their own decision may break down. The experience then ceases to feel like something the person is doing and begins to feel like something that is being done to them.
For a person to remain a subject—someone who actively co-creates the experience—rather than becoming merely an object being manipulated, they must have a genuine opportunity to influence what is happening to them. This opportunity does not consist solely of the right to say stop. It also includes access to slowing down, changing, pausing, reconsidering, or ending the situation without having to justify why their needs have changed.
The person being tied may not immediately recognise or communicate this change. They may freeze, adapt, or continue because they do not want to disappoint the other person or “ruin” the shared experience. Silence, immobility, and cooperation are therefore not, in themselves, reliable confirmations of ongoing consent; their meaning depends on the context.
The statement “but we agreed to this” does not answer whether consent remained present in every subsequent moment. On its own, however, it does not determine the degree of responsibility borne by the other person either. It is therefore necessary to distinguish between a newly discovered boundary, a change in consent that was not externally recognisable, and a situation in which available signals were ignored.
If a model discovers a new boundary during an agreed activity and the rigger stops or changes the course of the session once it is communicated, this does not necessarily constitute a failure of consent. If internal consent changes without any recognisable outward signs, the person being tied may authentically experience a violation of their autonomy even though the other person did not knowingly disregard their state. A clear violation occurs when someone ignores the withdrawal of consent, an expressed boundary, or clear signs of severe distress, or continues in a way that was not agreed upon.
Consent therefore cannot be a one-time act completed before the session begins. The initial “yes” opens the space for an experience within agreed boundaries, but what follows must respond to the person’s current state. Panic alone does not necessarily prove that consent has been violated. Once it affects a person’s ability to communicate, orient themselves, and make free decisions, however, it is no longer possible simply to rely on the original consent and continue without making changes.
An agreement ceases to be a sufficient basis for continuing when the internal state of one of the participants changes radically. This does not mean that every invisible internal change automatically establishes fault on the part of the other person. It does mean, however, that the original agreement cannot automatically justify continuing once the change becomes apparent or reasonably recognisable.
When we stop looking at the person and begin looking only at the rules, we ignore the present moment. Rules and prior agreements should provide a framework, not replace attentiveness. The person who entered the session ten minutes ago may not be in the same psychological and bodily state as the person who is in it now.
Ongoing attention is therefore an expression of profound respect and safety. It acknowledges that the human mind and body are complex systems that may change unexpectedly during an intense experience. It carries within it the offer: “I am here with you, and I see you as you are now, not only as you were ten minutes ago.”
The rigger’s responsibility therefore does not end with providing information and obtaining verbal consent. It includes ongoing attention, an appropriate pace, sensitivity to unusual changes in behaviour, and a willingness to alter the original plan. This does not mean having a duty to identify every hidden emotion correctly or taking complete responsibility for another person’s inner world. It does mean, however, not closing one’s eyes to what is actually present in the situation.
Ongoing consent is also not merely a matter of repeatedly asking, “Is this okay?” A mechanically posed question may have little value if the person is unable to answer, does not feel safe expressing disagreement, or assumes that only one response is acceptable. Ongoing consent means guiding the situation in such a way that continuing, changing, and stopping are all genuinely available options.
To stop paying attention is to leave the other person alone in their experience. Ongoing consent is a commitment not to let them become lost in it by themselves—to remain with them not only physically, but also through attention and awareness. It is precisely this presence that helps preserve human dignity and agency, even in a situation that may involve surrender, restricted movement, or working with helplessness.
Well-managed consent does not guarantee that an uncomfortable or surprising reaction will never arise. It is a framework that makes it possible to enter uncertainty without surrendering one’s autonomy in advance, while also creating a safer space for self-discovery.
Accepting risk allows us to enter uncertainty. It does not mean consenting to the disregard of whatever may arise within it.