Breaths

"Take a deep breath..." I instructed her, and she complied, inhaling slowly and loudly as I stood behind her, my hands gently rubbing up and down her arms. Looking over her shoulder, I noted the movement of her breasts beneath the sweatshirt as her lungs filled with air.

"Now breathe out..." She did, just as slowly, her hands reaching back to stroke my hips to help her remain grounded. The blindfold kept her in complete darkness so she would not see the video camera mounted on the tripod, as it would likely be a big distraction to her.

"Breathe in..." My hands slowly rose up her arms once again before sliding around to her chest, gently squeezing each firm breast. I lamented the fact that she was wearing a sweatshirt and a bra, as I would have enjoyed feeling her nipples burrowing into my palms, but this time was not truly about something sexual, although when we did this sex sometimes occurred afterward.

"Now exhale..." Her lungs slowly emptied as I glanced toward the video camera to reassure myself that the small red Recording light was indeed illuminated. Giving each breast a final squeeze, I allowed my hands to glide up her chest to alight atop her torso.

"Inhale..." She did as I briefly massaged her shoulders. I could feel the final tension of the long work week melting away as she completed the mental transition from administrative assistant to friend with benefits.

"And now out..." Loudly, she exhaled as my hands continued the massage. I was thankful to have her with me again, for her presence naturally calmed me, and after the rough and travel-heavy week I had just endured, I needed to be around her, and I also needed this.

"Inhale again..." As she complied, I drew back her hair, ensuring it remained behind her head and neck, her chestnut mane sensual against my fingers.

"Hold..." Satisfied that her hair would be well out of the way, my hands moved forward.

Carefully, gently, I gripped her neck from behind. Instantly, she tensed against me, an instinctive reaction she had yet to learn to thwart. A soft whimper rose from her throat, and I felt a tremble in each of her hands. She knew what was about to happen, she wanted this to happen, she enjoyed enduring this for me, but the initial moments were still always difficult for her.

"Exhale." She did, slowly and loudly, the sound slightly ragged from her instinctive nervousness. I had only gripped her neck -- I had not prevented a proper flow of air.

...not yet.

"Inhale..." I once again watched over her shoulder, admiring the movement of her breasts and wishing I had an extra pair of hands, like Goro from

Mortal Kombat

, so I could continue to gently manipulate her breasts, perhaps from underneath the sweatshirt.

Before her lungs were truly full, I began to squeeze -- gently, carefully, applying just enough pressure to truly gain her attention. A soft sound passed between her lips, and she again stiffened, her long fingernails curling against me.

"You're okay," I assured her. "You can still breathe."

She could definitely still breathe, but not as easily. With her airway partially constricted, the sound of her exhalation had changed, becoming noticeably deeper and shallower. I maintained that steady pressure throughout several breaths, then slowly loosened my grip, enjoying how she eased against my chest as she realized that she had passed the initial constriction. I allowed her to breathe normally for perhaps a minute, my hands remaining in place around her neck -- not squeezing, not caressing, simply remaining still, keeping her in the mindset that I was still with her and still very much in control as she continued to breathe slowly and loudly, pausing only to swallow her saliva.

When I felt she was truly ready, my grip tightened, more than what she had experienced initially. The airflow was definitely scant, shallow, and music to my ears. It was the beginning of her consensual suffering in a unique and non-painful way, although pain definitely had its place in our quasi-relationship.

I maintained the tightened grip, not completely cutting off the flow of oxygen, but definitely making it difficult for her to breathe properly. Her hands left my sides and began to rise, and I watched with a bit of amusement as her small hands seemed to hover in the air. I knew what was happening: She was trying to will herself not to reach for my wrists, to last as long as possible before completing that telltale motion. This in addition to her suffering always intrigued me as I observed how she dealt with the various predicaments my dark soul concocted for her.

I was impressed at how much time passed before her will crumbled and her hands finally rose to grasp my wrists. My grip loosened slightly to give her a mental boost and allow her a less-labored breath before I tightened my hands further around her neck, almost completely severing the airflow.

All it took was a single second for her body to shudder against me and her hands to instinctively pull at my wrists. My grip loosened instantly, still partially reducing the airflow.

And then it was on.

My grip levels varied, but tended to near-total constriction. The amount of time at each level also varied, but the trend was that the maximum constriction times lessened. It was a wonderful session, with her moving against me as her body instinctively struggled, her lungs certainly protesting the growing lack of oxygen. Her small hands kept pulling at my wrists, but never with that insistent

Now!

feeling, and she never slapped my wrists as a replacement for her safeword. Yet it was clear that I was driving her almost to the limit of her endurance, approaching the loss of consciousness.

That was when it ended, my grip slowly lessening and my hands ultimately gliding down her neck and her chest, over her breasts with a gentle squeeze and sliding around her stomach as I held her to me. The loud sound of her thankful breaths was also music to my ears, and I could sense the relief and the joy emanating from her, wishing that I could see her bright eyes at that moment but knowing it was best that the blindfold remain in place.

The video camera had captured it all so that, after dinner, she could finally see herself in this unique form of suffering, and I awaited that moment with great interest.