breath control

A Life in Torment

1. The Trap

He hadn’t breathed properly for so long the torment was excruciating. His lungs burned with oxygen deprivation and his throat involuntarily groaned. Through his tears of agony, he looked up at her smiling face pleadingly. The ball gag wedged in his mouth sealed it air-tight and the nose pinch squeezing his nostrils together prevented barely any inhalations at all. Just the faintest amount of wheezing was all that she had allowed.

Carlos stood on the doorstep trying to catch his breath. His heart hadn’t beaten so fast since the day before yesterday when he’d jogged for two miles. He liked running; that and swimming. The exercise made him fit, and it also helped with increasing his lung capacity.

The large manor-style house had been hard to find, hidden partially by tall hedges and lay off the beaten track. He’d had to ask one of the pair of gardeners if this was the right address but the man hadn’t been able to speak, only in a mumbled incoherent way. It was as though he’d suffered some sort of brain damage. Carlos wondered about the haunted look in the man’s face as he’d crunched up the shingle driveway, instantly in awe of the grandeur of the grounds and of the Rolls Royce, Ferrari and Maserati parked in front of the huge garage to one side of the house. On the other side a group of stables housed horses being groomed and walked by men who appeared to have a similar disposition to the gardeners. He watched as a young Japanese woman in jodhpurs clambered up onto a ready-saddled stallion, gave him a glance and charged off across the fields. She was too far away to see her face properly but he could tell she was attractive. Her bottom was plumper than the usual shape for a Japanese female. He idly wondered if she was the one but quickly discounted the idea. The woman he’d come to see was older.

Carlos asked another man who was polishing the cars the same question. Again this man appeared to be in the same way as the last. Carlos was mildly surprised that someone as rich as the occupant of these grand grounds would employ so many disabled people.

He heard the doorbell ringing from inside the moment he pushed the button beside the black mirror-finished door. His feelings were conflicted with a certain ambivalence. There was the distinct sense of fear, fear of the unknown. But it was also tinged with a deep excitement, the way it always was when he chose to place himself in this type of predicament.

The minute it took for the door to open seemed like an hour. The middle-aged, smartly dressed Japanese man stared at him from a moment.

‘Yes?’ he said in impeccable English.

Carlos hesitated for a moment, taken aback that a man was answering the door. He’d expected her to employ a maid to answer the door for some reason.

‘Err, I’ve come to see Miss Tanaka’, Carlos told the man.

‘I see’, the man said, standing back, opening the door wider to allow him to enter.

‘It is Mrs Tanaka,’ the man corrected him, indicating for Carlos to follow him.

2. The Contract

The hallway was impressive, with chequered black-and-white marble flooring. Oak doors lead off on both sides and there was one of dual staircases. It was lavished in luxurious thick pile carpet. Another man, similar in manner to the previous ones was polishing table surfaces as they passed. They proceeded through a vast kitchen where another two men prepared food. Carlos was amazed that they too were mentally retarded.

The man led Carlos into a room decorated with walls of books and a panoramic view of the leafy, green gardens.

‘Please,’ the man said, waving for Carlos to sit on a leather settee.

Carlos’ heart was thumping even more now. He hadn’t counted on all this opulence and especially not her having so many male staff.

‘You will wait here if you please,’ the man said before disappearing through another door.

The room was a huge library. A high fireplace adorned the wall closest to him and his seat was complemented with three identical armchairs, with a large ornate table in the middle.

He lungs burned like Hell. She was really enjoying herself like he’d never seen before in a situation such as this. She sat with all her weight on his stomach making his breathing and inhaling extremely difficult. He would have welcomed the comfort of passing out but she didn’t want him unconscious. She wanted him to suffer in the worst possible way.

Lots of things drifted through his mind while he waited. The way in which she first contacted him in reply to his personal advert in the contact magazine. It was one of those fetish mags he’d bought in a shop in Soho. He preferred to use a magazine than search for what he wanted on the internet. You never knew who you’d get there. Anyone can pretend to be someone else on the web. He didn’t want that.

He must have waited nearly twenty minutes. He was in two minds whether this was a hoax and if he had to wait much longer he’d probably decide to just leave. Maybe it was just a mistake after all.

‘You must be Carlos,’ the Japanese woman said with the faintest of accents, drifting into the room and over to him. She was immaculately dressed in white and quite attractive. He recognised her from somewhere but couldn’t quite place where. She held a large plastic water bottle from which she constantly took drinks.

He stood and she offered her hand, which he shook. It seemed quite formal considering why they were meeting.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Miss, err, Mrs Tanaka,’ he stammered, his mouth now completely dry.

‘Sit,’ she said firmly and sank down beside him. ‘Now tell me exactly why you are here.’

‘Well,’ he started, taken by surprise at her question. All the other times he’d been in this situation the woman had just told him the price and for him to get on the bed. This was completely different and he was certain she wasn’t a prostitute. ‘As I said in my ad I wanted to meet a lady who would smother me.’

She smiled at his trembling voice. ‘And that is why we are both here today meeting like this,’ she told him confidently. ‘Did you tell anyone where you were coming today?’

‘No’, came his reply.

She was sitting quite close and her knees almost touched his. Her eyes were unflinching, studying him intensely. ‘And you like to be suffocated in what way?’

Wow! Another sledgehammer of a question. He wished his mouth would work properly.

‘I don’t mind really,’ he answered cautiously.

The smile came again faintly. ‘Do you like being smothered by hand or by being sat on?’ she asked, her eyes boring into his. She finished the litre bottle and took another from beneath the table. This she opened with a hiss and took another drink.

‘Oh, either is nice,’ he managed to say.

‘Did you bring the letters as I asked?’ she said. ‘And my photograph?’

‘Sure,’ he replied, hurriedly fishing three envelopes from his inside pocket.

These were the letters she’d written to him. She took them with a satisfied nod, glanced through them and placed them in a drawer in the table. The photo she’d sent him had her wearing sunglasses. That too went into the drawer.

The man who had let him in entered. He placed a long sheet of paper on the table in front of Carlos. He too looked familiar.

‘You’ve already met my husband, Mr Tanaka,’ she said.

That one completely stumped Carlos. ‘Err, husband! Well, yes,’ he managed to gasp.

‘My wife’s likes and my own likes differ,’ Mr Tanaka explained. ‘Do not worry I will not be present when you… practice your fetish.’

Carlos felt instantly relieved. For a man to be present when he was being smother-dominated by a woman would put him off completely.

‘But I must insist that you sign these wavers,’ Mr Tanaka went on. ‘We are investment bankers and want no repercussions. As you can see we are very wealthy and we have to protect our own interests. You understand completely?’

He now knew where he’d seen them. It was in the celebrity sections of the newspapers. They also did a lot of charity work and were renowned philanthropists. Carlos nodded, taking the pen. The contract or whatever it was entirely scripted in Japanese.

‘Sign here and here please,’ Mr Tanaka said. He placed the signed papers in the same drawer as Carlos’ letters and left the room.

‘Come,’ Mrs Tanaka said rising, holding Carlos’ hand. ‘We will have some fun.’

September 2018
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