My right hand grips your throat.
It’s a big hand.
Easily gripping three quarters of the way around your throat.
My size and stature menacing.
The immense strength in my grip.
Dangerous.
Tight.
Controlling.
My eyes locked onto yours.
I watch you as you struggle.
I wait.
Anticipating what is to come.
The fear beginning to edge itself into your mind.
I transfer the grip on your throat to my left hand.
My right tears your top from you.
Instant rip and the fabric is demolished.
Your skirt is torn from your waist.
Torn like it was made out of paper.
The panties remain on.
I reach in and feel the wetness of your cunt.
Your fear is in conflict with your need to be manhandled.
I order you to spread your legs.
I play gently with your clitoris, your cunt coming alive.
I raise my hand and bring it down sharply on your cunt.
Impact.
Hard impact.
You scream as the pain registers.
That delicious fucking scream.
But it’s the look in your eyes I crave.
The confusion of pain and pleasure that crosses your face.
Once again my hand raises and rains down with measured impact.
You scream again.
And there it is.
The look in your eyes that I crave.
The look I chase.
The look I fucking want.
Fear.
Unbridled pure fear.
The fear that rises when your fight or flight kicks in.
Adrenaline fuelled fear.
You’ve always fantasised about what it would be like to be taken.
Taken beyond your ability to fight back.
Beyond your ability for it to stop
The realisation suddenly occurs that reality is harsher than the fantasy.
The slaps hurt.
Really fucking hurt.
But the pain also does something else.
You feel your cunt come alive.
Not only your cunt.
Your asshole itself puckers.
You feel this sensation of need and pleasure course through your insides.
You feel your own cunt leak from the conundrum of wanting the pleasure and fearing the pain.
I lean forward.
My left hand squeezing your throat harder.
Constricting the veins that pump necessary blood to your brain.
That’s how controlling your throat works.
Not the windpipe.
Not your air supply.
That’s dangerous and can cause damage.
It’s the blood supply to the brain that denotes what throat play is all about.
The ability to remain conscious.
You having no control over that.
I place my mouth against your ear.
You feel the heat of my breath against your skin.
”You asked to be hurt. You begged to be taken. You silly fucking girl.”
I feel your pulse quicken.
I hear you begin to pant.
Your chest rising and falling as angst mixed with desire takes hold
”I own you now. Completely. Your body. Your choices. Your fucking holes.”
I spin you around.
Your body, so easy to fucking manipulate.
I place a blindfold on you.
Time to really fuck with you.
Time to batter your fucking senses.
I reach down.
Between your legs.
Soaked panties.
How fucking delicious.
Fear that makes you wet.
One quick motion is all it takes to tear them from your body.
You cry out as the fabric tears, bites and rips into your skin.
Welts forming where the fabric burn occured.
I drive two fingers deep into your asshole.
You scream.
Really fucking loud.
Those wet panties will make a good fucking gag.
Into your mouth.
Forced in.
”They stay in your mouth cunt. You can taste your own fucking juices while I use you.”
My hand grabs your cunt.
Hard.
Nasty.
Fingers injected.
I smile to myself as I feel your body react.
This is going to be a fun session…
