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I brace myself against his arms and pivot my ass around until I’m facing him, knees bent in front of his chest. He runs his hands under my ass and lifts me until I’m sat on his cock, feeding my feet to each side of his back.
“God,” I mumble as I take in the hard thick length of him, wondering for a second if he brought a small log from outside and shoved it down his pants.
“Now rub that naughty little clit against my cock.”
I do as I’m told, slowly stimulating myself as he watches me until his hands raise to my throat and I stop moving. He begins to squeeze and my hands propel to his, pulling on instinct.
He lets go. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“Easy for you to say,” I snap. “Believe it or not, I enjoy the ability to inhale oxygen.”
“It’s not meant to deprive you of oxygen for more than just a few seconds.”
“It… turns you on?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“What about it?”
“The fear,” he responds, eyes falling into shadow. “The panic. The doubt. The control. It requires a level of trust and submission which will allow me to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.”
“Doesn’t that make you a sadist or something?”
“It makes me a man who gets pleasure from absolute control. But in reality, it’s you who has the control, Indigo, not me. It’s you who gets to decide what I can and can’t do to you. So, the more important question is”—he tentatively begins to squeeze my neck again, causing my body to seize—“do you enjoy giving me the right to do it? Giving me this type of control over your breath?”—he squeezes further–“Giving me your body to do with as I will?”
He studies me closely as my windpipe tightens and my eyes widen, panic making me wriggle a little… until he releases me again.
“Now this time, rub your clit on my cock as I cut off your air supply.”
After a pause, I do as instructed, trying not to drown in the silvery waters of his eyes as he stifles my breath with his hands, releasing them moments later.
“Do you want to play like this?” he asks, tightening his grip once again, watching me intently as I attempt to handle the sensation.
When he lets go, putting his hands down, mine finds my neck, rubbing the skin.
“Yes,” I reply. “I want to… but… I don’t ever want to pass out. That’s a hard limit.”
He bows his head, reaching over me. I turn my neck to watch him writing next to the wordBreathplay.
Hard limit
Pass out
He studies the paper most seriously. “Edging we don’t have to go into. Thatwillbe happening.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask.
“Orgasm denial. Building up pleasure and depriving you of the climax. And seeing as you’re already much more disobedient today than I would have hoped for, that will be one of your punishments.”
“Do I get a say in that matter?”
“There’s no danger to you other than frustration… so no, you do not. Next… impact play. Look at me.” I oblige. “I will use my open hand, whips, paddles and riding crops to discipline you. None of these tools are harsh. They’re designed to break you in gently.”
“Okay… I don’t want my skin to open, or the bruises to be dark.”
He nods, leaning over, writing that down.
“That won’t happen. Now… sensory deprivation. I intend to blindfold you, put you in dark rooms, make it hard for you to hear. I want to block out everything other than my body, my pleasure, and your pleasure.”
