Loving Hannah

Copyright Oggbashan April 2003 The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

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When Hannah was alive she was a real danger to my life. She nearly killed me so many times that I lost count. Now she is dead I thought I was safe. Now I'm not so sure ...

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Hannah was a big girl. I'm not that small but she was nearly a head taller and weighed nearly half as much again as I did. She was big but her weight was muscle.

At first the disparity in our sizes didn't bother me. When we first met I was more attracted by the way she dressed. She wore large flowing skirts that moved even when she was standing still. When we danced her skirts flared around me. I could just see over her shoulder when dancing but the other dancers kept clear. A collision with Hannah might be painful.

When we had met a few times I asked her out. She was fun to be with and had a great sense of humour. Gradually we became a couple and we spent most of our time together. Hannah was sometimes embarrassingly affectionate and clung to me as if I was a lifeline. I thought that this was because she had lost her parents when she was in her teens and had no living relations. Apart from me she was totally alone in the world. With me, she shared my circle of friends and met my relations.

There was one incident shortly after we became lovers that disturbed me. In retrospect I saw it as the first sign that something was wrong with our relationship. At the time it was just a trivial incident that seemed a variation of our love making.

We were out for the evening at a friend's birthday party. We expected it to be crowded and that there would be no dancing. Hannah wore an evening dress that she liked but was very different from her usual party clothes. The dress was a long sheath of nylon lined jersey/lycra mix in a faintly shimmering lilac. The long sleeves were satin in a deeper lilac. The dress had a fairly high neckline and long back zip. It fitted Hannah so closely that I had to zip it up for her. I have described the dress in such detail because of its importance in the later events.

Hannah looked wonderful in that dress. It emphasised her curves without making her look as large as she is. But that evening she damaged it. We were leaving the party and coming down the steps from the front door. Hannah missed her footing and stumbled. I was slightly in front of her. I caught most of her weight but she pushed out her foot to regain her balance. The dress tore along a seam from hem to mid-calf.

"Oh s**t!" Hannah shouted.

She turned her head to look down at the damage.

"How bad is it, Simon?" she asked anxiously.

I peered at the tear.

"I can't really tell in this light, Hannah. It looks as if the seam has split but we really need a closer look where we can see."

"OK, Simon. Let's go."

We went back to her house. I unzipped the dress. I made coffee in the kitchen. Hannah went up to her bedroom and returned wearing a night-dress and carrying the evening dress over her arm.

"I think you are overdressed, Simon. I am only wearing a flimsy night-dress and you are fully dressed. That won't do."

She put the evening dress on the kitchen table and came towards me. We made a game of her stripping me as I tried to protect my modesty. We enjoyed ourselves. I was left with just my boxer shorts.

As we drank the coffee Hannah looked carefully at the tear in her evening dress. She showed it to me. The material had torn beside the seam. The lining was still intact but the repair would not be easy. Hannah started to pin the tear together but stopped.

"Simon, the flare of the lower skirt means I can't see how this should go. Can you help?"

"Yes, Hannah, but how? I'm no good at sewing."

"I want you to be a mannequin."

"What?" I asked.

"I want you to put the dress on so I can see how the material hangs. Then I can tack it together and see if the damage is repairable."

I took several minutes to persuade. After a few kisses and hugs I reluctantly agreed. The first attempt was a failure. I'm so much slighter than Hannah. My shoulders weren't wide enough and the dress slipped to one side or the other. Hannah stood back and looked at me carefully before announcing:

"There is one way it might work ..."

"There is?"

"I think so, Simon. We'll get the dress off first."

She unzipped me and started to lifted the dress. The nylon lining had stuck to me.

"Blast!" she said "I wear a long poly-cotton slip under this. I left it upstairs."

She peeled the dress off and over my head. Then she closed the back zip and neck on the empty dress.

"Please turn with your back to me." Hannah asked.

Then she threw the dress over my head and pulled it down firmly with my arms trapped inside the bodice. The nylon lining and the lycra mix squeezed my arms. I could wriggle my fingers but otherwise I was helpless. Hannah swung me round and kissed me.

"It won't take long, Simon. Just stand still."

She was wrong. The dress was far too long. The hem splayed around my feet. It was ankle length on Hannah when she wore heels.

Hannah pushed a kitchen stool into the centre of the kitchen. She lifted me on to it. The dress fell around the stool.

"Keep still."

I did. There was no way I could save myself if I wobbled. Hannah tacked the tear with thread. She finished by snipping the end with her teeth.

"There. That should do. The tear won't go any further. I'll take it to the cleaners on Monday and ask them to repair it."

She looked up at me.

"Now what shall I do with you? You deserve a reward."

She picked me up, slung me over her shoulders and carried me up to her bedroom. She lowered me to the bed.

"Lie there and I'll come to you."

I didn't have much choice. I might be able to roll off the bed but that was all.

Hannah took off her night-dress. She pulled my head between her naked breasts and rubbed them over my face. I tried to ask to be released but my open mouth was stuffed full of a breast. I relaxed and tongued the nipple. Hannah moaned happily and pushed her breast further in.

For the next few hours she used her breasts and pussy on my face. I worried that her movements became stronger as she climaxed over and over again. With each of her orgasms I was fiercely clamped to her.

In the early hours of the morning she peeled the now sweat-sodden dress of me before she rode me to release. I fell asleep wrapped by her legs and cradled against a breast.

Most of that night had been enjoyable but I faintly resented being so helpless and used by her. We resumed our normal lovemaking in the weeks that followed. My resentment gradually faded. The dress was mended but the damage was still faintly visible. Whenever she wore that dress I felt slightly uncomfortable without knowing why.

Hannah almost became part of my family but something held me back from making the final commitment of marriage. There was just something about Hannah, a small cloud on the horizon. I wanted to know her better before proposing. Now I know that the complete helplessness I had experienced when trapped in her evening dress was bothering me. Then it was just a vague unease.

She sensed my reluctance and suggested that I moved in with her for a trial period. We had spent weekends together and she was very persuasive. I agreed that we should try three months together. I let my flat for the summer holidays and moved into Hannah's house which she had inherited from her parents.

We slept together in a massive four poster bed. It even had heavy red velvet curtains that we could draw to shut out daylight. That bed was our refuge from the world and a wonderful place to be until ...

We had been living together for about a month when one night Hannah turned to me and said:

"Simon, tonight I'd like to try something different."

"Yes, Hannah. What do you want to try?"

"I'd like to try some mild bondage."

I must have shown some concern.

"Not on you, silly," she said "on me. I'm so much bigger than you that I seem to be taking the initiative all the time. But if I were tied up then YOU would be in control. The idea excites me."

"If that's what you want, Hannah. If we are going to try bondage then we should have a control word so that you can let me know if you REALLY want to be released."

"I suppose so, Simon."

"I think it is essential. Any ideas for the word?"

"If we must. I presume it should be a word we wouldn't normally use so there is no mistake?"

"Yes. I haven't tried bondage before but an unusual word seems sensible."

"OK. Then the word I want is succubus."

"Succubus?" I queried "Isn't that a female spirit that visits men at night and makes love to them?"

"Yes. I like the idea," Hannah said.

"I'm not sure I do, but it is an unusual word."

"OK, Simon. Then we'll start. Use these."

Hannah pulled some silk headscarves from under her pillow. I should have thought that it was very unusual for Hannah to want to be controlled by me. Our sex life was the other way round. She controlled me. We both liked breath play - on me. She breast smothered me; she sat on my face cutting my breathing off by stretching her labia over my nose; she even clamped my head with one arm forcing my mouth and nose in her armpit. It may sound odd that I enjoyed this but she did it gently and carefully, never going too far.

"Tie my hands to the bedposts, and my feet to the rail at the bottom," Hannah asked.

I tried but I couldn't. The scarves were too short for that large bed.

"Oh well, I suppose we'll have to use my pantyhose." said Hannah "I have some old pairs in that drawer over there. I should have thrown them away because they have snags or runs. They'll do."

The convenient pantyhose should have told me that Hannah was plotting something if I hadn't realised before. There is a large difference between being tied up with scarves and with pantyhose. Knots in pantyhose lock tight and are very difficult to undo. Hannah didn't keep worn or damaged clothing. The lilac evening dress was a rare exception. She threw anything away that had a flaw. Keeping old pantyhose just wasn't in character.

Stupid me. I took her words at face value. I tied her up. We made love that evening with her lashed to the bed. I enjoyed riding her for a change and I thought she enjoyed it as well. I released her before we went to sleep. It took me nearly twenty minutes to unpick the knots in the pantyhose.

The next evening Hannah turned the tables.

"Tonight, Simon, I'd like to try tying you up. You had your turn in charge last night."

The idea made me feel warm inside. I liked the breath play. I thought that the mild bondage would be an extension of that.

Before I had a chance to object Hannah had tied my wrists to the bedposts.

"The safe word is still succubus?" I asked tentatively.

"Yes, Simon," Hannah said as she tied my feet.

"And you promise you will honour the safe word?" I insisted.

"Yes. I promise."

"Hannah. I want a serious promise, please." I pleaded.

"You are a bore sometimes, Simon. If it makes you happy - I promise on my soul that I will honour the safe word 'succubus' and release you instantly. Happy now?"

"Yes Hannah."

I was satisfied. Hannah had been a church-goer before her parents died. She still went to the major festivals.

She slowly stripped off her long black nylon night-dress. I watched expectantly. She climbed on the bed, pulling the night-dress into a long thin band. She stroked the end of the night-dress up my legs, across my growing erection and over my chest. It was so smooth and silky. I writhed in my bonds as that night-dress teased me.

Suddenly Hannah dropped a knee hard in my stomach. My mouth flew open as the air was expelled from my lungs. Hannah pushed the night-dress into my mouth and wrapped it tightly around before she tied it.

"Yes, Simon. The word is succubus. You can say it now." she teased.

I couldn't say a word. I could grunt faintly but no more.

Then the nightmare began. Hannah took breath play to a level I had never been before. She pulled my face deep into one of her soft breasts and held me there until my face turned bright red with lack of air. She did that again and again until I was constantly dizzy.

Then she facesat me. Not the tender considerate play it had been but her full weight flattening my face. She was excited and her juices soaked the night-dress gag. No air was getting in or out of my mouth. She held her pussy lips clamped over my nose until I was unconscious.

All that night I woke up to be smothered unconscious again. Hannah was ruthless. At the first sign of life I was attacked by breast or pussy until I fainted. I think that sometime during the night she had milked me dry. I wasn't sure because so much of the time I was in a near coma.

I woke in the morning still tied to the bed. The pantyhose bonds had tightened around my wrists and were cutting off the blood supply to my hands where I had struggled vainly to free myself. There was no sign of Hannah. Whether she was there or not, I was helpless. The night-dress still gagged me silent.

Hannah came into the room fully dressed in a white v-neck t-shirt and a pastel blue flowing skirt.

"Good morning, Simon," she said brightly. "Did you have a good night's sleep? I enjoyed myself. Perhaps you didn't?"

I shook my head.

"What a shame. Perhaps this will make up for it."

Hannah straddled me. She bunched up her skirt and lowered her white pantied muff over my face. This time she was as gentle as she had been before last night. Despite myself I was aroused. Hannah's hand reached behind her and grasped. I flinched but her hand caressed and squeezed lightly. This Hannah seemed so different from the woman who had brought me close to death so many times in the night.

Hannah swung round. Her thighs cradled my head as she opened her mouth to receive my erection. She sucked, licked and gently squeezed. In the blue light under her skirt I saw her white panties descend on my face. Slowly and lovingly she brought me close to orgasm before letting me subside again. After two or three close calls she let me cum in her soft sucking mouth.

She lifted herself off me and sat on the bed with my head resting in her lap. She stroked my head.

"Would you like to be free now?" she asked.

I nodded.

"OK."

She untied the night-dress from my head and pulled it out of my mouth. I worked my jaw to get some feeling back. From the pocket of her skirt she produced a workman's knife. She slashed the pantyhose around my wrists. I yelled at the pain of the blood returning to my hands. She stifled my yells with a fold of her skirt.

"Shh! Or I'll gag you again. Keep quiet, Simon. Can you do that?"

I nodded as far as her hand would let me. She let her skirt drop away.

"I am disappointed, Simon. I have been kind and gentle for a month and you haven't show any more signs of wanting commitment than you did a month ago. What do I have to do?"

I didn't answer. What could I say? Last night had scared me. I was further away from commitment now. I had been really worried that Hannah might kill me.

Hannah held the knife with its point digging under my chin. I was uncomfortably aware that my ankles were still tied to the bed. I couldn't get away. I tried to pull away but only sank deeper into Hannah's lap.

"No." Hannah said, moving the knife away "I don't want blood on this light coloured skirt. I want you to decide one way or the other. You have a week. If you don't decide then I will decide for you. You can get up now."

She slashed through the pantyhose tying my ankles and stood up shutting the knife and putting it back in her skirt pocket.

She had made my decision easy. There was no way I wanted to be married to her. She was too dangerous. But I didn't want to tell her to her face. I daren't. I had nowhere to go. I tried to find somewhere to move but the earliest available was Friday. I had three successive nights to survive. I hoped that Hannah was satisfied and would be gentle until I decided.

The first night I made it clear that I didn't want to be tied up. Hannah said nothing. Once in bed she pushed a pillow into my face and jumped on me. I struggled but she was too strong. Under her body I had little chance of resisting and the pillow gave me no chance of saying the safe word. She lashed my hands with a scarf.

She gagged me with her hand and reached for her panties. I tried to keep my mouth shut. She pinched my nostrils. She stuffed her panties in as I gasped. Hannah's panties were not small and skimpy. They were attractive but took a lot of material. My mouth was painfully stretched before she wound pantyhose round and round my head trapping the panties.

"When I want you, Simon," she hissed in my ear "I get you. You DON'T say no."

I struggled vainly as she tied me securely with more pantyhose. She scissored my head between her legs while her hands grabbed between mine. Gentle she was not. She pinched, yanked and dug her fingernails in. I screamed soundlessly into her stifling panties.

She unclasped her legs. My head swam from rough handling and lack of air. I panted through my nose. Blurrily I was aware of a breast coming towards my face. Feebly I shook my head. Her hands grasped my ears and pulled my face deep into her soft enveloping breast. Despite the pain in my ears I struggled to escape or at least pull one nostril clear to breathe. I heard her laugh as she released an ear and locked an arm behind my head. That was the last I knew. I passed out.

I was vaguely aware that she smothered me again and again. In the morning I felt as if I had run until I could run no more. I was barely able to move even though I was not bound. My mouth was still full of Hannah's panties. Slowly I eased the material out and lay back gasping.

Hannah treated me as if nothing had happened. I crawled around getting ready for work and feeling very battered. She was bright and breezy and full of life.

The second night I announced that I was sleeping in the spare bedroom. As I came out of the bathroom Hannah threw a double sheet over my head and buckled several of her belts round it, one gagging me. She carried me to her bedroom with my legs flailing in the air. Once she had tied my feet she unwrapped me to tie my hands. She gagged me effectively, this time with a nylon half slip held in with a cloth belt. She made sure that I could not say a word.

The care she took to gag me was my only shred of hope. She would not have taken such trouble unless she meant to honour the safe word - IF I could say it. She really enjoyed it when I ate her and the gags made that impossible. If I could persuade her to let me eat her just once? Then I could say the safe word. But how could I persuade her with my mouth silenced?

I tried, how I tried. Between her legs I nuzzled and stroked with my nose. I thought she was beginning to react but she dropped her full weight on my face and ground me to unconsciousness. The rest of that night was a blur until I woke in the morning to pull a sodden nylon slip from my mouth.

In the morning I felt as if I had just come to after a serious bout of flu. Yesterday morning had been like a hangover, serious but not life-threatening. Today I was as week as a newborn kitten. Hannah had to dress me. She fed me breakfast in bed. After the second cup of coffee I managed to stagger around the house and I drove to work automatically. I slept the whole lunch hour and had to be woken to get me back to work for the afternoon. I tried to find anywhere to sleep for that Thursday night. The hotels and bedsits were full and even my friends were either away or already sleeping people. I despaired.