suffocation

3. The Capture



She led him towards a section of the bookcase, pressed a false book and a hidden section of the bookcase revealed itself to be a doorway, now opened. You’d never have know it was there until you’d seen it with your own eyes, he thought, swallowing hard.



Now he was beginning to feel frightened, but it was a good fear. His cock began to harden just the way it always did in these situations. He’d hoped she’d relieve him but if not he’d have to do it himself.



She clicked on a light and led him down a steep stairway into a basement. She unlocked one of the three doors. This one was the strongest, more like a solid prison door.



She drained the last contents of the water. ‘Come through,’ she said.



He gasped as she switched on the red-bulbed lights. The room was completely tiled in white; the walls, floor and ceiling. One side had an X cross secured to the wall, with chains for ankles and wrists. Restraining chains and a hoist hung from the ceiling. A low steel table stood in the centre with leather restraints at each corner. At one end, which he guessed the victim’s head went, the metal narrowed into an extended spoon shape, the same width as a neck and indented to accept the back of the head. Beside it stood a large round glass tank. The cylinder-shaped tank had two pipes anchored into it.



Against one wall on the floor a thin mattress lay, with a toilet next to it. There was also a tall cupboard against the far wall. There was a clock on a wall but there were no windows, only a large mirror fixed into another wall. He saw his own reflection looking back at him, with apprehension fused into his eyes.



‘Undress,’ she commanded, closing the door with a slam. It was solid steel.



‘Everything?’ he asked nervously.



‘Just down to your pants,’ she said firmly. Her voice had taken on a sternness that hadn’t been there before. ‘Then lie face-up on the table’.



Obediently he stripped. Now he felt totally vulnerable. Shaking, partly from trepidation and partly from anticipation he positioned himself onto his back on the table. The metal felt cold against his skin.



‘Your head this end,’ she commanded.



He lay with the back of his head fitting neatly into a moulded indentation.



‘Good,’ she said, first strapping in his wrists, then his ankles.



‘How do you like being suffocated? Do you like mild, medium or hard?’ She enquired. Now she was smirking.







4. The Nightmare Begins



‘I don’t like it too hard,’ he replied, so excited his breathing came in short pants. ‘Also can we have a safe word.’



She paused for a moment. ‘A safe word, of course,’ she said, standing back to admire her handiwork. ‘Let us say ‘mercy’ is your safe word. Is that okay?’



He nodded and she smiled down at her completely immobilised captive.



Pulling at her skirt she deftly pulled it off, revealing white panties and long muscular legs. Swinging her leg over his midriff she sat down on him, her legs dangling over the sides.



‘Just one more little thing,’ she breathed. Leaning over his face, she pulled out another strap across his forehead and secured his head from any movement.



‘That’s better,’ she smiled. ‘Now we can begin.’



Slowly and methodically she slowly pulled on a pair of elbow-length black kid leather gloves, watching him growing increasingly disturbed. All of a sudden her hands came down onto his face touching it all over gently. A glazed look seemed to befall her as she cupped one hand across his mouth and the other pinched his nostrils together.



‘Your name is Carlos, yes?’ she asked.



Knowing he couldn’t reply she continued: ‘And Carlos in Hebrew means free man.’



She shifted slightly, making herself more comfortable sitting on his stomach. She remained suffocating him, not allowing any breath at all.



‘But you’re not now, are you?’ she continued. ‘So I am going to rename you.’



His eyes began to roll as if he wanted to let her know he was reaching his limit. Still she kept him smothering.



‘Amongst my many hobbies I have an interest in the meaning of names,’ she went on, smiling down at him. ‘For instance my name is Katsue which means blessed with victory in Japanese.’



He began to make urgent noises at the back of his throat to let her know he was really suffering now. Yet still she kept him suffocating.



‘I have decided to call you Abel,’ she giggled. ‘Do you know what that means?’



She suddenly let go and smiled as he gasped in deep breaths for only a few seconds before clamping her hands over his nose and mouth again before he had a chance to say anything.



‘Is that too hard for you?’ she sneeringly asked.



He blinked his eyes. He didn’t like being smothered that much. This isn’t what he wanted. Not like this.



‘Good,’ she sniggered. ‘Then you should say your safe word next time.’



She bounced on his stomach forcing out some of his air between her fingers. She remained clamping him with an airtight seal.



‘Yes I have decided to call you Abel because that means breath in Hebrew,’ she sniggered.



His face was going very red and his eyes began to bulge. She released him and got off.



‘M…e…r…c…y…’ he gasped. She giggled at his torturous inhalations.



She returned with a ball gag, strapping it tightly into his mouth. He could now only try to regain his breath through his wheezing nostrils.



‘I have no mercy, Abel,’ she said in a husky voice, ‘No mercy, none at all. The more you suffer the more I shall enjoy myself.’ She smirked down at his pleading eyes. ‘I know you didn’t want it as hard as this, did you?’



She cruelly and deliberately bounced on his stomach to expel any air forcibly out of his nose, and then swiftly pinched his nostrils together.



Unable to move a muscle, he blinked his eyes by way of telling her he wasn’t enjoying it.



‘Life is a bitch, sometimes, isn’t it?’ she asked, with a smile. ‘We can’t all have want we want, Breath… That’s it, that’s your new name, Breath.’ She smirked, wriggling on his helpless, suffocating body.



Grinning broadly down at his agonised expression, she carefully placed a nose pincher over his nostrils before he had a chance to inhale, squeezing them together.



‘Mmmhhhhh,’ she sighed, satisfied with her handiwork, resting her hands on his chest with all her weight. ‘I’ve got you exactly where I want you, and Breath, boy are you going to suffer.’



She giggled at his pleading, smothered groans. ‘And there’s absolutely no escape. There is no one coming to help you.’



His lungs were screaming for air. This was the worst he’d ever experienced by being smothered. And by the look in her face he knew things were going to get worse.



Her face came down close to his so she could look deep into his agonised eyes, to be able to see the torment he was undergoing for her benefit.



‘I bet you hadn’t counted on this,’ she sniggered. Her eyes looked excited and so alive.



This wasn’t what he wanted, not like this. If he knew it was going to be a sadistic as this he’d have never have come here. He just wanted her to finish her session and let him go.



He pleaded with bulging eyes for some respite but she merely smiled down at his imploring eyes, loving the suffering she was imposing.



‘I simply adore suffocating people,’ she breathed. Her breathing was low and deep and her eyes glistened with pleasure.



Touching his nose, she slowly moved the nose pincers up slightly to allow his nostrils a miniscule of relief to let him try and suck some oxygen into his body.



‘I have studied my pleasure for many years,’ she smirked. ‘And let me tell you I know more about suffocation than anyone,’



A shiver of fear ran down the back of his neck as realisation of what he had really let himself in for began to sink in.



‘I am in complete control of you now,’ she sneeringly told him. ‘This is the first day of the rest of your life. You are going to live here from now on. There is no escape.’



He wriggled his agony-wrecked body as much as he could, his mind overtaken by instinct.



Her smiling face peered down at her suffocating victim. He looked into her eyes for any signs of compassion or mercy. There was none. Only a gloating and excited Asian female stared back at him.



’Your breathing is now my only concern with you,’ she told him, studying the pain in his face. ‘I’m going to control your breathing whenever you are in my presence,’ she breathed, huskily.



She knew exactly what she was doing, he thought. She is an expert at this.



His eyes misty, from the torture, began to roll. His entire body screamed out for air in this living hell.



‘What do you do, Breath?’ she giggled, wriggling her bottom on his tormented body. ’How do you wake up from a nightmare, when you’re not asleep?’



In the corners of his brain he could see sparks flying and his lungs told him he was going…



From behind the two-way mirror, unknown to their captive, Mr Tanaka watched his wife smother-torturing their latest victim. At first he had found it strange for a woman, such as his wife, to enjoy inflicting suffering onto another living person by suffocating them with such a vengeance. But once he came to accept it he discovered a new voyeuristic pleasure had formed in his psyche. He had found out several years after marrying her that she derived great pleasure from inflicting suffocation on people. Now it was one of their ‘little pleasures’ that they both thoroughly enjoyed.



He smiled as he watched the man being smothered into unconsciousness, loving the look of utter delight on Katsue’s beautiful face. She is an absolute treasure, he mused, the familiar sensations beginning to make him harden at the thought of what was to come. They always had the most satisfying sex after a smother-torture session. It could sometimes last long into the night.



Over the course of the torture duration, running into almost three hours, Breath’s face had turned from red, to blue, and now for the first time it was becoming purple. The pleasure shone out from Katsue’s face as his eyes began to slowly close. She was sending him into oblivion and she thoroughly enjoyed doing so.



Mr Tanaka leaned forward in his comfortable chair, poured himself a measure of malt whisky, and perched on the edge of his seat in anticipation of what was coming next.

There was a time when I wasn’t frightened of anything. That was a while back, before I met Sylvia. Now just her name fills me with dread. And after all this time she’s finally found me… and she said she’s coming to get me…



The phone call came out of the blue. One minute everything was fine and the next my whole world had turned upside down again, just like it’d been when I’d been her ‘slave’. That’s what she called me – her slave. And she made me do all sorts of things to her and punished me if I didn’t do it exactly how she liked. And her way of punishment was to suffocate me for long periods of time, hours, even for a whole day once. And it turned her on like nothing else in this world…



‘And this Sylvia, what does she look like?’ The female police officer sitting opposite, carefully wrote everything down.



I went to the sideboard and picked up the drawing I’d made of her. ‘This is a good likeness,’ I said, handing it over.



‘She’s beautiful,’ the officer noted. ‘It’s hard to believe she did all those terrible things to you?’



‘Yes, she is very attractive but utterly sadistic,’ I replied. My hands were trembling and my heart was pounding.



‘Let me get this straight,’ she continued writing. ‘You escaped from her but you never reported your abduction and subsequent treatment? Why not?’



I took a moment to collect my thoughts – and courage. It was taking a lot of that to even talk to somebody else about it.



‘You see I just wanted to forget all about it,’ I finally managed to say. ‘I’d escaped her clutches for good, or so I thought, and you lot probably wouldn’t even have believed me anyway.’



She gave me a reassuring look. ‘Well I believe you.’



I gave a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness you happened to be in the neighbourhood when you saw me.’



‘Yes, lucky for you I was on general patrol and could tell you were in a bad way. I’m just here to help in any way I can.’



The phone rang. My mouth went dry.



‘You answer it,’ she said reaching for the handset. ‘It could be her. Get her to come here if you can. It’ll be okay, I’ll be here.’



I sat there with bated breath. I’d started to tremble again.



‘Go on,’ she urged. ‘I’m here to help.’



I picked up the instrument. ‘Hello… yes…’ I stammered.



‘Hi, my little smother slave,’ Sylvia said in that husky voice of hers. ‘I told you I was coming to get you back, didn’t I? Now, come on my little ass-slave it wasn’t too awful with me, was it? We had some really lovely times together…’



The officer was nodding at me encouragingly, gesticulating to get her to come round.



‘Err, I’ve been thinking,’ I managed to say. ‘Maybe it would be an idea to come over…’



‘Ooh goody, that’s what I’ve been saying all along, darling,’ she breathed. ‘I’ve missed you terribly. Where are you exactly, I’ve only got your phone number?’



I gave her the address and we said our goodbyes. It was surreal, as if we were normal lovers meeting up after a long break. My knees were knocking as I slumped down in the chair.



‘You did great,’ the officer enthused, standing. She was an inch or two taller than me and her light brown hair tumbled down when she took off her peaked hat. She was of Latino origin and had quite a strong and voluptuous build. She started to look round the room.



‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘What’re you looking for?’



‘We’ve got about thirty minutes before she gets here,’ she noted. She pulled my coffee table into the centre of the room.



I was puzzled and my brain was whizzing round. ‘What’re you doing?’ I asked.



‘Getting ready for her,’ came the reply. She cleared the bits and pieces of clutter from the table and its shelf below.



It’s strange I know, but it took me a while to realise something wasn’t quite right. I just sat there watching this trusted protector preparing for something. But somehow I knew she wasn’t being completely straight with me.



‘How d’you know how long it’ll take her to get here?’ I casually enquired, as nonchalantly as possible. I slowly began to stand.



She stopped what she was doing, turned and looked at me and in an instant I knew what was wrong. I made a dash for the door but she was right behind me. Her tackle brought me down heavily. Winded, I couldn’t move as she sat on my back and proceeded to clamp my wrists together with ‘cuffs.



‘It took some doing but we finally found you,’ she informed me, dragging me away from the door. ‘I’m Sylvia’s best new friend. I’m Demetria and we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on.’



Thick, sticky tape was stuck across my mouth. She left me in a heap and went outside before returning with lengths of rope. Before long I’d been bound face-up on the table tighter than a turkey on Thanksgiving. I couldn’t move an inch. The breathing from my nose came short and fast.



She sat on my chest and her face was a picture of delight, like someone was having their dream come true. ‘Boy, I’ve been looking forward to this,’ she smiled, her gloved hand stroking my face. Her leather-clad fingers covered my nose. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before, well not quite like this. Not with a proper smother-slave, not with someone I can do anything with.’



Her hands covered my nose and mouth completely. Not a miniscule amount of air could break that seal. She kept me suffocating for quite a long time, savouring the effect, enjoying the power it gave her. My face was getting redder and redder and her grin was getting wider and wider.



The doorbell rang. Reluctantly she rose to answer it, while I snorted in air. I was reliving what it’d been like, the hell I’d been through, and this was only a taster of what it was going to be like again. Only this time there would be two of them doing it to me.

She didn’t need the alarm, waking precisely at 6am as she did every morning. She proceeded to do eighty sit-ups, eighty press-ups and eighty bunny-hops. Then she walked across the floor on her buttocks for twenty minutes to tone the muscled bottom. Although relatively attractive, with blonde hair which she preferred to keep in a ponytail and piercing blue eyes, she chose to live alone, considering all Russian men were either drunkards, stupid or useless. Sometimes she had regrets for not having a husband but not often. She was quite happy with her own company.



After breakfast Major Olga Vavaski arrived at number 2 Dzerzhinsky Sq, KGB headquarters at precisely eight am and headed down into the depths of the vast basement. She entered the Colonel’s office for the usual morning debriefing of the previous day’s interviewing. Colonel Waneski was ten years her senior, and at late forties was considered to be a handsome woman.



“Once again, Major, you have come up with the goods,” the senior officer said. “The information has led to the network in Germany being broken up. Tnaks to you it has been destroyed.”



“So there is no need for the ‘client’ any longer?” Major Vavaski asked.



The colonel gave a rare smile. “No, the job is now over. You can move to the next assignment when total completion is finalised.”



Major Vavaski went straight to the changing room and squeezed into her favourite interviewing attire. The black latex bodysuit fitted like a glove and she had to use talcum powder to assist her to fit into it. She stood for a few moments admiring her voluptuous figure with her large, protruding bottom in the lockers mirror. Then she entered the interrogation room by the adjoining door.



He was where she’d left him the previous day, secured by chains on one leg and wrist on the concrete floor completely naked.



“No more,” he cried as she uncoupled the chains, dragging him to the low squatting table.



“I’ve given you everything you wanted,” he screamed while she secured him onto his back, fastening his arms, legs and head so he could barely move.



“That is true,” she said to the German, who was now reduced to a whimpering wreck. “But now we are moving to the final part of the process.”



Five days of continual face sitting suffocation had broken him. Her department within the KGB was the most efficient in the whole secret police. There was no breaking of bones, no rubber hoses, no electric shock treatment, nor beatings. The only method the five women torture officers in her department used was smother. There was six altogether; – the colonel, herself, a captain, two lieutenants and a sergeant. Only commissioned officers could perform the actual interrogations but the sergeant was sitting her exams soon. She had to make do with providing the administration for the time being.



They executed the procedure by either face sitting or by hand smother, but the results were the same. And it was quicker than the more conventional methods. The head of department, the colonel, reckoned it was because it was a unique combination of humiliation and breathing deprivation. Whatever, it was the most effective interrogation in the entire service.



She carefully placed a booted foot in each of the stirrups which dangled beside either side of his upturned head, straddling him.



“Please, no more,” he pleaded, terrified at the sight of her bulbous rubber-clad backside hovering millimetres above his helpless face. “I’ll do anything, anything…”



Anything else he had to say became muffled as she smilingly sank her bottom right onto his face, submerging it.



“There is one thing about this interrogation you do not know,” she grinningly informed him. “Anyone who enters this interview room…”



She wriggled her posterior around on his face. He struggled like crazy but it was useless. He was completely at her mercy.



“No matter how much they are co-operative…”



The large clock on the wall with it’s loud ticking wiled away the seconds.



“And no matter how much information they give us…”



She was relishing this part of the interrogation. Every job must have its bonuses and to her this was the best part.



“no one leaves this room alive.” She gave out a laugh. “Except for me of course.”



“Which is very unfortunate for you,” she continued, savouring the moments as the seconds, then minutes passed so slowly for him,



Beneath her his body writhed and struggled for all it was worth but it was hopeless. He had been head of section in Hamburg. He’d told her everything she wanted to know, even betraying his top British agent.



The clock told her she’d been sitting there for four minutes. “Not long now,” she smilingly taunted him. There was no way he could catch the slightest breath with latex covering his nose and mouth. That’s why she preferred it. It was the best material for suffocating and torturing her victims, yet still retaining a not too intimate contact. That would not be very professional and she was a true professional. She liked her job. She liked it very much.



At five minutes his struggles grew weaker and weaker until they finally stopped. She remained sitting on his face for another minute before giving out a satisfied sigh. Then she clambered from the reddened face. Tomorrow she would move on to the next interrogation, the one with the British spy. They would pick him up soon. Then she would get on with the job in hand. She had never interrogated an Englishman before. She was looking forward to it very much indeed.

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