When I Can Breathe Again Ch. 02

I'm a tiny bit broken on my loungeroom floor with one of your hands on my throat and the other diving into my underwear. You are kissing me and I'm choking and getting so wet to your touch that I don't know whether to bite your lips or pull your fingers deeper inside me.

I do both. And you pull away. Pulling me with you. Standing me upright and stripping me roughly of my remaining clothes, while gripping my wrist.

"Bedroom. Now." You say sternly, and I stagger out of my underwear toward it, ahead of your still clothed form.

In the light from the loungeroom the white sheets are softly lit and you throw me on the bed. I scramble backwards but you grab my ankles and drag me toward you.

"Stay." You say emphatically and return to the doorway and turn the light on. It's the harsh overhead and I protest and put my hands over my eyes. "I need to see everything." You say as a way of explanation and grab my ankle again. I understand the game a little and know that obedience is part of it. But am still not sure about how this works.

"Come here." You say.

It's an unambiguous demand and I get up and start moving toward you. It didn't sound harsh or strident, but then you say, "On your knees, facing away from me." I hesitate. Hang on, where is the guy whose touch was like hot rocks on my skin before?

I look up at you and start to rise. "Now," you snap, and swat a hand across my exposed arse. Then leave your hand there and caress gently. There he is. The harsh and gentle guy. I save any protest and enjoy the touch.

You're standing against the side of the bed behind my naked, bending form. I can feel you looking me over. I haven't been this exposed in forever and I am nervous and excited. Your hand moves from cheek to cheek, gently feeling my skin. It's rhythmic and you are skimming the space in between, where my wet, wet pussy drips.

Then abruptly your fingers push into me. Hard and with purpose. Your other hand reaches out and grips my neck. You do not let me pull away. I try to, because your hands are rough, but your grip on my neck gets tighter and your fingers just push deeper as I struggle.

You pound into me with your full weight behind your hand and I'm half-moaning and half trying to escape. I feel on fire and hurt and lifted into sensations that are hard and present and relentless. My muscles are spasming in a way that imitates what I know of orgasms, but it's not the same. I notice I am making inhuman sounds.

You stop abruptly.

Your warm hand rests on my arse again. Soothing in slow circles. The hand gripping my throat is now stroking my back and I'm trembling and breathing harshly.

"Shhhhh." You say. "Breath normally. Your pussy is very wet and swollen, but you're okay. You feel fine. You look fine to me." I've collapsed down to my elbows, but you pull me into an upright kneeling position. The front of your still clothed body flat against the naked back of mine. I can feel your hardness and I reach for it. But you grip my wrist and move it away.

"You're okay." You whisper in my ear and then kiss my neck. We're swaying a bit and it feels good to be kissed. Then you wrap your hand tightly around my throat and reach around and between my swollen lips to rub my clit. "Relax." You tell me and then rub harder, squeeze harder. I cannot escape your grip. Your hips push forward, your hands are relentless.

I try to relax and not fight you. But instead I gasp and your hand tightens on my neck, your fingers strain against my resisting thigh. I feel like a fish on a hook, struggling against something I cannot overcome. I'm sweating and whimpering. And I'm confused about how much I love it and how scared I feel.

"Listen to me," you whisper. "Relax. I have you." And I eventually do, and your hands get a bit gentler, and my body becomes more pliable in your arms. And I can breathe a bit again. My skin is humming and vibrating against you, like it's an instrument you are playing. Your fingers are firm now, but not hurtful on my clit, and they do not tire until I am bucking against you and cumming in a long, loud rhythmic gush. And I'm freed.

You let me go then and I collapse forward onto the mattress to catch my breath. I almost forget about you a moment, as though you were a fantastic masturbation fantasy. But then I feel your hands on my left wrist. You bend it toward the middle of my back. Then do the same with the right. I do not protest.

Then you hold them both, one on the other, and use a red scarf from the back of my door to tie them quickly and tightly together. I am trussed before I can stop it. And I struggle to look around at you above me, I'm flailing like a helpless victim on my stomach. I know this is part of the game and my struggling is part of it. But it is genuine struggle on my part, just as the force is genuine on your part. I feel in danger, but also safe.

You grab both my ankles and just hold them apart. Not saying anything. Waiting for me to settle into the feeling and allowing my shoulders to get relaxed. I finally give in with a sigh and allow my body to slacken into the bed. That triggers movement and you drag me by my feet until my legs are off the bed, and my hips are resting on the edge of the mattress.

I could stand up from here, but I don't try. I hear your belt unbuckle and other movement. Zip, buttons, fabric moving, a watch being taken off, and I want to look around but do not. I know you don't want me to turn around. "Good girl." You tell me as though reading my mind, and I feel happy to have made a good decision. I relax and exhale.

Then your hand comes down in a brutal slap right in the centre of my right arse cheek. It is explosive and hot and stinging. And I cry out in pain. And I do turn around then, to see another blow coming from high above your head and landing on the exact same spot. The pain takes my breath from me and leaves me hot in the belly. As I roar into the mattress, I feel another and another until I have not drawn breath in many heartbeats. But I refuse to move away.

Finally you pause and I turn to show you the tears in my eyes, and my confusion. But you are staring at the burning redness of my arse cheek and watching your eyes gleam, I finally understand. You are exposed too. How pleased you are at the effect on my skin, how high you are on the evidence of pain in my flesh. How happy I am to read that on your face. And so I fall for you in that moment, for it, for the pain, for everything you will do to me. And I make my decision.

I raise my arse higher and say with quiet gratitude, "Thank you Sir."