Gas Mask

Many thanks to VMKane, without her this would not exist.

*****

Tailored red dress, tights (complete with seam), Forties heels and an S10 gas mask - hiding her identity and giving her a menacing presence. I'm on the bed, wrists and ankles cuffed to the corner restraints. The only movement I can manage is to raise my head enough to watch her walking around the room. I'm naked. I can't make eye contact with her as she's wearing tinted anti-flash lenses. The mask doesn't have the filter canister attached, so I can hear her voice more clearly, and so she can get closer to me if she wishes.

Her blonde hair is scraped back into a tight pony tail, giving her a look of severity. The straps have been pulled tightly into position and the contrast between the two is giving me a kick: manly, dominating mask and petite little blonde who takes her haircare very seriously. She hasn't spoken a word since she buckled my extremities into position. I can feel the warmth between my legs, thighs already sticky with expectancy. My head drops down onto the mattress as she approaches my left side. She leans in towards my face, the smell of plastic filing my nostrils. Each breath she takes deafens me in the otherwise quiet room. Her voice muffled by the mask.

"This is what we promised you, Ms Vaughan. I can already see you are enjoying yourself, how very perverted of you."

The distance both repulses and fascinates me. I am being experimented on; she is fucking with my mind on purpose. I want to raise my hand and touch the material, try and find an element of humanity to it. I stare at the ceiling, focusing on the flaking paint that I assume had been white once upon time. It symbolises how I feel, she has stripped away my outer layers to reveal the decay inside.

She pulls away, surveying my body. I feel like an object, desperately trying to connect with my captor. Her hand finds its way between her legs, lifting her dress at the front. She is touching herself. I can't take my eyes off her, and yet I feel like I want to cover my face and hide. Her breathing is getting heavier inside that obscene thing and I imagine her lids getting heavy.

I pull at my restraints, desperately trying to release myself. I don't want to play anymore and my rational side is beginning to panic. She just laughs and withdraws her hand. I know what is coming next - her fingers smearing come across my cheek - and I screw my eyes shut. It is thick and sticky, and it smells of pure sexual arousal. Her face comes closer, twisting to get a better view of her prey. She must be able to see the sweat droplets that are collecting at the base of my throat.

There is no urgency to her actions. She is immersing herself in domination, turning into one of Milgram's prison guard's right before my eyes. Even though I know she will stop if I give her the word, I still feel anxious and sick about my reaction. Fuck - that mask. It is doing something to me that is making me feel extremely uncomfortable: all those connotations associated with it. And yet here I am getting wetter by the second, willing her to give me some kind of escape from this captivity.

She climbs on top of me, pinning my body underneath hers. She is humping against me, muttering filthy things I can still make out through the respirator. I can't stop my hips rising up to meet hers, violently bucking against each other, trying to find that little bit of friction. She turns into dead weight, raising herself up to rest on her right elbow.

"I didn't know you had such disturbing fantasies, Ms Vaughan. You like playing the victim just a little bit too much."

I shake my head in response, not wanting to acknowledge what she's said as true. Disturbing images entering my imagination, images she is responsible for.

"Would you get off even more if we had an audience?"

The noise that came from deep within seemed to be from some foreign entity. If I could see her mouth I'd know she'd be smiling at me in that fake, sickly sweet way that never fails to creep me out.

"How about if I let each of them take a turn with your body? Unzip their flies and take out their cocks?"

"Stop it." I hear my choked little voice say.

"You know what to say to make it stop, Ms Vaughan."

She pushes herself up so that she is straddling my thighs. Her hands clasp the hem of her dress once more, lifting it to her waist. Shuffling forward, she positions herself just above my face. I'm becoming almost delirious. I'm not in control of myself anymore and all I want to do is pleasure her.

She must have flung her heels across the room at some point, but is still wearing her tights. I can smell her scent trapped inside them. She lowers herself down until her gusset is almost touching my nose. She isn't wearing any underwear - the silk sodden with her juices. I'm willing her to use my face, grind against me like a sex toy.

"Make me come."

My tongue finds the material, the texture is smoother than I expected, and thin enough for me to have contact with her clit. I've never tasted her as strong as this before, it is earthy, heady and intoxicating. I'd be wanking myself if my hands were free, desperate to feel something between my own legs. Instead my hips are humping against nothing but the air.

Her hips grind into my face, smearing her wetness all over me. I take the material into my mouth and suck, wiping my face gladly with her come, revelling in the filthiness of my situation. Her thighs grip my head as she gets closer to her climax, preventing me from breathing, the moist darkness engulfing me. I am vaguely aware of her calling me a 'fucking whore' as it hits her, before she collapses on top of me.

My face is a soiled mess; I can't even move my hands to wipe it off. She stands up and takes her position next to the bed. I know it will soon start to harden and pull taut against my skin. I can't escape her smell; it must have gone up my nose.

"That was for my pleasure, Ms Vaughan. As is this next part."

She walks over to the chest of drawers and takes out a black strap-on which matches her mask. She must be sweating underneath it, feeling as constricted as I did in-between her thighs. My breath catches in my throat; I am aching to feel something in my cunt. I know she isn't going to be gentle and it adds to my hunger. She throws it down onto the bed so it slaps against my thigh, and reaches behind to unzip her dress. She lets it drop down and pool at her feet, stepping out of it, leaving her bra and tights in place. Sexy.

I watch her buckling the strap-on into place with dexterous fingers, in exactly the same way as the respirator. She makes a point of removing the lenses, letting me know she's controlling every aspect of my experience. Her cock is protruding obscenely; I can feel her eyes on me as I struggle with how I'm reacting. She rolls her hand over the head as if she can feel every caress, dragging out the inevitable for as long as she can stand. As she climbs on top of me we are still separated by the clunky, inhuman contraption covering her delicate features. I want to kiss her, feel her tongue invading my mouth. Her eyes have never been this intense before.

It slides straight in. I cry out, almost sobbing from the intensity of the feeling. She has built me up so high I know it is all going to come crashing down very shortly. She isn't teasing me; she is giving me exactly what I need, hard and deep. Her laboured breathing is nearly getting me off by itself, dirty and selfish. Fuck me baby, I want to come around your cock. Take me, I'm yours. My cheek is sticking to the gasmask, the sweat welding us together. And then I feel it, building deep inside my stomach, it's almost unbearable. She senses it and rubs my clit as she keeps up the rhythm. And then everything goes black, it feels like my brain is being pulled apart into strings of goo. I give myself to my lover.