Posts Tagged ‘handsmother’

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.

7. The Handsmother Torture

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.

I trembled as I heard Sylvia’s dramatic flurried entrance, finishing of with the front door slamming shut. That sound of a door being closed was terrifying to me because I knew it would be a very long time before it was ever opened again.



‘Where is he?’ I heard Sylvia’s familiar voice bark. Then with a flourish she rushed into the room. On seeing me completely immobilised, she clapped her hands excitedly and laughed, taunting: ‘Well, well it’s my little smother-slave.’ She towered over my helpless form, glaring with an evil jubilation.



‘He’s good to suffocate, isn’t he?’ Demetria smirked, her gloved hands smoothing across my petrified face.



‘He’s perfect, isn’t he,’ Sylvia purred. ‘That’s why I chose him.’



Survival dictated I struggled with my confines, but I knew it was useless. They had me exactly where they wanted me.



‘You’ve been a very bad smother-slave,’ Sylvia mockingly chided. ‘You ran away from your mistress. What do you have to say for yourself?’



I couldn’t answer because of the duct tape, which is precisely how these females liked it. They could chat to you, torment you, play with you and there was no way in the world you could talk back or call for help.



Staring down at me with delight gleaming in her eyes, Sylvia flung off her coat to reveal the curvaceous Amazonian figure I knew so well. She was wearing her favourite smother torture costume; tight black satin blouse – revealing her ample bosom – and, adhered to her curves, were tan skin-tight soft kidskin leather breeches, laced up at the sides. Black leather knee-length boots completed her ‘goddess smothering’ outfit, as she liked to call it. She looked intimidatingly wicked. I was petrified.



Demetria was already slipping out of her uniform and was down to her stockings and suspenders. As I fearfully surveyed the two gloating women arrogantly standing above me. I’m not ashamed to say there were whimpering sounds coming from my nostrils.



Sylvia grinned at the transfixed policewoman. ‘Thank you so much, Demetria, for finding my smother slave. You have no idea how much I missed him. And one favour deserves another. You told me you’d like to try your hand at extreme smother torture, so I’ll show you what I like doing to him for a while and then I’ll leave him with you afterwards.’



‘It will be an honour for me to be shown by such a noteworthy smother queen as yourself,’ Demetria smilingly replied, sitting down to watch.



Sylvia turned to get into her usual first smothering position, kneeling on the table, straddling my chest, her back to me. It seemed to happen in slow motion as she clambered over me, a smirk on her beautiful face. I tried for all my worth to turn my head away from her bottom hovering just above my face. It was firm and big, well muscled, and the kidskin leather moulded her buttocks like a glove. Again I tried with all my might to break free from my bonds, but all I could do was helplessly stare at the protruding buttocks wavering millimetres from my upturned face.



‘He looks like he knows you quite well, Sylvia,’ Demetria dryly chortled, noting the look of terror shrouding my countenance.



‘I think he knows my ass better than most,’ Sylvia laughed, teasing my nose by rubbing it along the crease between the rounded orbs. A faint gasp came from her lips as she felt the vibrations of my quickening nostril breath. She savoured my terror, exciting herself with anticipation.



And then she sat down, and her overpowering bottom cut me off from the rest of the world. My nose, now squashed between her buttocks, had been my only form of breathing before. Now there was nothing I could do to catch any breath at all.



‘Mmmmmmmmhhhhhhh….’ she went, wiggling her mighty backside so my nose rubbed against her rim. ‘Oh yes, you know what I like, don’t you?’



My face was being crushed by her bottom and my nose was becoming sore at all the rubbing. I could hear Demetria’s breathing increasing too as she watched my smother torturer enjoying herself at my expense.



Soon my oxygen supply began to rapidly deplete and my struggling increased. And so did Sylvia’s stimulation. She continued sitting there for a long time until I thought she’d never get off. But she is an expert in the art of smothering and after all this time knows my limitations extremely well. Her bottom rose, almost begrudgingly, ever so slightly and I managed to snatch in a bit of air. Then she sat back down full weight and remained seated, marvelling at my discomfort.



‘Did you really think you could get away from your Smother Goddess?’ Sylvia asked me.



I could just see the side of her face above her right buttock. She smirked down at me suffocating beneath her mightiness, an eyebrow arching arrogantly.



My ears were pounding and all my muscles screamed in torment. Her backside lifted slightly to allow a measured amount of air. Demetria was panting quite loudly now and I could hear her fidgeting in her seat. I guessed she must have been masturbating.



After a long time of continual face sitting torture Sylvia rose from my face, the weight shifting off completely. I greedily snorted in fresh air, relieved at the lack of pressure on my face. I supposed this would be my only respite until Demetria took over. It only took me seconds to realise Sylvia hadn’t finished with me yet and she was turning round to facesit me again.



This time she was facing me, and as I looked up I could see the gleeful look in her velvet almond-shaped eyes. Then she slowly lowered herself and I knew my face would once again be obliterated by her overpowering crutch and bottom.



Her overbearing weight sank down, crushing my face, my sore nose pressing hard into her crutch. I could feel the suede had already become damp from her enjoyment. I looked imploringly from between her strong thighs into her widened eyes. Her beautiful, cruel face grinned back down at me, savouring my plight. She loved suffocating me like this. It was her biggest turn-on.



I felt like sobbing but was unable. I knew she was going to continue for ages, until such a time the torture was unbearable. Then she’d do it to me even more. Demetria gasped in the background, obviously reaching an orgasm.



I was being used solely for their pleasure. I was just a toy to be sat on and smothered and there wasn’t a thing in the world I could do to stop them.



‘You’re not going to get away from me again,’ Sylivia breathed, wallowing in my suffering. ‘Not ever again.’



Tears welled in my eyes and the last thing I saw before the darkness tugged at my mind was her eyes trying hard to keep looking into mine, then they went back into her lids and her crutch became damper and she gasped too. Then the only sounds I could hear were the two of them climaxing as I slowly slipped into hell. A place I knew I would visit often while I was their slave.

Please get off me! Please let me breathe! Please have mercy!



Sylvia read all this from my pleading eyes. She merely grinned back down at me, enjoying herself and wallowing in my misery.



It was a long time before I got to breathe again for more than anything like just a few seconds. When Sylvia eventually rose from my crushed face the fresh air felt like it was the most wondrous thing in the world. My nose snorted in air like there was no tomorrow.



‘He’s all yours, Demetria,’ she said to the already standing policewoman.



I watched Sylvia’s prominent backside strutting jauntily to a chair. I knew every square millimetre of her backside. I also knew that it wouldn’t be long before she’d take great delight in making me reacquainted with in the minutest detail.



Demetria had taken off her panties and you could see the droplets of come glistening on her pubic hair. She’d been masturbating at the sight of me being face sat tortured. Then she smiled a kind of really evil smile and came and straddled my stomach and sat down, knocking the breathe out of me.



‘I’ve dreamed of doing this,’ she told me, systematically slipping on her black leather gloves. ‘You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy this.’



Just watching her slowly, methodically putting on the gloves. Her smilingly staring down at my helplessness sent a shiver of ice through my spine.



‘I’m going to suffocate you like you wouldn’t believe,’ she breathed menacingly, squeezing my nostrils together. The bitch! She’d deliberately done it as I was exhaling. I was gasping for air right away.



Her vagina glared at me ominously, moist and sexually stimulated. Her weight bore down on me relentlessly.



‘Oh yes,’ she panted in excitement, gleefully watching my face turning red. ‘This is going to be just so exquisite.’



Exquisite! What a word to use while she was smother- torturing me. It’s funny the things you remember when the odds are stacked against you and you happen to be enduring so much agony your lungs are fit to burst. Exquisite!



‘Yes, it’s quite exquisite,’ she gaily laughed, happy she’d found the right word to express her pleasure.



My face went to crimson and she released her gloved fingers around my nose just enough for my carbon dioxide to dispel with a hiss and to allow a fraction of oxygen in.



Her nipples stuck out rigid before her, and I watched disgusted as she massaged her right breast with her free hand. It looked strange in a way, a black leather gloved hand against the porcelain white flesh, squashing and kneading it.



She used me like this for an hour, but it seemed like a day. And every time she took me to the limit of my endurance I wished, prayed for the welcoming darkness of oblivion. But she was too cruel to allow me that release. She kept me on the brink, always taunting me and thoroughly enthralled by my suffering.



I was too far-gone to really notice what came next. It kind of took me by surprise. She rose slightly, enough to shift herself forwards until her cunt was right above my face, while skilfully still stifling my nose. I hadn’t been allowed any air for a while now and my lungs were burning like Hades in a heat wave. Then she adeptly sat down, manoeuvring my nose inside her cunt like it was always supposed to fit in there, like it was the most natural thing in the world.



Her tongue slaked across her ruby lips, her wide eyes mesmerised by my plight. My head could hardly move but I was just able to wrestle my head a bit this way and that. But all it did was to rub my nose against the inside of her wet vulva. My survival instincts dictated that I struggle and by God I did. But it was ironic that my desperately writhing head should only stimulate her even more. I was working her off just by trying to free myself to breathe through my ensnared nose.



A long whining gasp emitted from the back of her throat and her body randomly contorted, contracting and then relaxing. Warm glutinous fluid encompassed my nose, spreading across my face. The noises coming from her could have been mistaken for pain; such were the intensity of her orgasms. She supplemented my stimulating facial movements against her muff with gyrating herself to fuck my nose with her body. My agony-wrecked nerve-endings and my entire being pleaded for her to let me breathe, just even a bit, any amount at all. But it went on for ages, never-ending and I was positive she was going to kill me.



Just before the darkness came to collect me, and I was absolutely certain that was it, that I’d never again be able to breathe ever again, Sylvia must have pulled her up off me.



‘Nearly,’ Sylvia said to her gently. ‘It’s so easy to do when you get carried away.’



Then through my tears of pain and nasal wheezings I saw Sylvia help her prodigy over to the chair. Sylvia had taken off her breeches and her enormous bare bottom looked even more frightening because I knew exactly what she was going to put me through. The inevitable was about to happen.



I was very scared and wished they’d get carried away and end this waking nightmare but I knew they never would. They’d got me precisely where they wanted me. And they were going to make full use of me in any way they wished.

Hell was about to start. I could tell from the evil smirk on her face.



The familiar smell of Sylvia’s bottom permeated my nostrils as she took up position. Two voluminous buttocks hovered just above my petrified face.



‘We’ve got a lot to catch up on,’ she informed me sternly. ‘You shouldn’t have tried to get away.’



There was nothing I could do. I could hardly move. My breath snorted through my nose in short bursts. All the struggling I’d done, combined with the moisture from my assailants and my own stifled breath had loosened the tape securing my mouth and head. But I could only move a fraction more than before.



‘My bum and your face were just made for each other,’ she happily told me, brushing my nose against her anal crease. ‘You were born to be my smother slave.’



I futilely tried to turn away from her aggressive posterior, from the humiliation of her bottom rubbing into my face. She was revelling in what she putting me through. I knew she enjoyed tormenting me like this, playing with me like I was just there solely for her pleasure and amusement.



Experience told me to inhale deeply whenever she toyed with me in this position. She was ready to pounce and if I timed it right I’d last longer before the intense suffocation agony started.



She made as if to sit down and I inhaled as much as I could and held it. She giggled, massaging my nose-tip between her cheeks. I kept holding it. She kept on rubbing, and I lay there just waiting for her to sit on me. But she remained wavering her bum in my face, teasing me.



Then she took so long after a time I had to exhale and the second I did she sat down, her backside submerging my face. Straight away I wanted to breathe, needed to breathe, but she played it exactly as she wanted it.



She settled herself, wriggling a bit until my nose entered her anus, while her damp crutch covered my taped mouth. It was just how she loved it.



‘Your breathing belongs to me again,’ she panted; wriggling a bit more to enjoy the pleasure it gave her. ‘We’re together again and I can sit on you just like we used to.’ My body was wracked in painful oxygen deprivation. Every nerve in me ached from this perpetual agony.



How can you wake up from a nightmare if you’re not asleep?



She’d purposely positioned herself on my face so I could see her mountainous buttocks squashing down on me, relentlessly suffocating me. She liked to emphasise that I was completely and utterly helpless and that I was totally at her mercy. But I knew her of old and she had no mercy, no compassion.



I saw her face peeking down at me. All gleeful and happy. How can someone so beautiful be so sadistic? My eyes pleaded with those beautiful eyes of hers, all sparkly and bright, twinkling down at my plight. She was gloating in my misery.



Then she turned to Demetria, who had recovered from her intense orgasm, and they started to chat. While they talked Sylvia continued to sit on me, crushing my face with her prominent bottom, as if I was a mere seat, a comfortable place to sit.



I was as near to Hades as anyone could dread to be. My restricted movements amused them both and they laughed whenever my struggles grew absolutely desperate.



Very occasionally Sylvia deigned to shift her bum on my face and I could just about manage to snort in some lifesaving air.



‘How long have you been into face sitting?’ Demetria asked, interested.



‘For as long as I care to remember,’ Sylvia replied, sounding pleased she had a protégé. ‘I started by hiring men to do it to but I thought why should I have to pay for it when I can get it for free.’



They both laughed at that.



‘I always used to have fantasies about suffocating a man,’ confided Demetria. ‘But because I went into the police service quite early on I couldn’t practise doing it as much as I would have wanted.’



‘Besides,’ Sylvia chatted on, ‘it can still be quite difficult for us women to fulfil our needs in this day and age. Sometimes I think it’s still a man’s world.’



She contemptuously wiggled her bottom on my face, smiling down at my arduous position. My bloodshot eyeballs were beginning to pop out like a gargoyle’s. Just the faintest of hisses escaped from my nose for a second as I took in some air, then just as quickly she cruelly cut off my supply again.



‘Will you teach me everything there is to know about suffocating men?’ Demetria asked earnestly.



‘Of course, my dear,’ Sylvia answered, shifting about, forcing my nose to rub against her sensitive anus. ‘It is an art form. I’ll show you how you can keep a man for hours just on the brink of passing out.’



I knew from past experience she was more than capable of doing that. She’d done it to me often. I’d learned quite a bit about her over the time she’d kept me as her slave. She used to chat to me a lot whilst torturing me. She was a Baroness, a wealthy woman from Latvinia. She’d moved to this country a few years ago and quickly moved up the social scales. Important people were her friends, mostly successful businesswomen and female politicians and some high-ranking officials.



‘It’s fascinating just watching you at work,’ Demetria chuckled.



I was struggling again as the agonising quest for air and survival took its toll. They both laughed again.



‘Did you know our fetish is becoming more and more popular with women?’ Sylvia told her. ‘There are female doctors, judges and even politicians who enjoy sitting on men’s faces.’



‘Is that so?’ Demetria replied, interested. ‘I know there is even a high ranking policewoman who likes suffocation.’



‘I’d like to meet her,’ Sylvia said.



‘I will arrange it,’ Demetria agreed.



Every time Sylvia allowed my nose to take in some air I was sniffing her anus. Now, as her bottom manoeuvred to let me minutely inhale, another familiar smell wafted into my senses. It was the smell of her excitations.



The next stage of hell was about to begin.

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