1 comments/ 5936 views/ 1 favorites When I Can Breathe Again Ch. 01 By: SexySentences My friend Brendan throws these random parties that I have long stopped attending. They're always either all night dance fests or awkward dinner party setups. And you never know which until you show up. So when he insists I come to a 'garden party' at his inner city townhouse, I figure it has been long enough to make refusing quite rude. There are around 80 people there when I arrive, some who I know by sight, but most who I don't. As is my usual preference at such things, I look for a spot that isn't too loud, too high traffic or too far from the alcohol, but not so antisocial that I'd be rude. The kitchen seems perfect. There is ice in the sink, booze on the bench and a few people already hanging there who look like they're doing the same as me. I drop my six-pack on ice, grab one and look around for a bottle opener. "This what you're looking for?" asks a friendly voice and a friendly face. "Yes please." I say with some relief, opening my beer and handing the opener back. "And don't go too far, I'll be needing it again soon." "Dominic. At your service." "Angela. In need of your service." I don't mean that to be as flirty as it comes out and I burst out laughing and so do you. Within a few hours of meeting each other we establish we're both single, I haven't been out with anyone in a while and you've had a few weird experiences. I think we are both a bit surprised to find a little 'normality' in each other, although my friend Brendan will later exclaim he knew we would hit it off. The good thing is that there's no false effort, and no forced conversation. There isn't really any intense spark either, but there are a few bright moments. I like your height the minute we meet. As a tall and fairly broad woman, I love taller broader men who make me feel smaller. I think you say you played rugby. But I could be wrong. Enough beer and enough bright moments later, we decide to go to my place. Inside the door, we kiss deep and kind of fumble around. There's giggles and a few silences and some obvious wariness. I can see that your cock is hard and huge in your jeans and my pussy is wet as anything. There's no doubt we're going to let them have it. I pour us fresh drinks and lead us to the couch. I move next to sit next to you, but you take my wrist and pull me forward so I have to straddle your legs instead. I like this position, both dominant and vulnerable. I wind my fingers in your hair and kiss you deeply, pulling your mouth onto mine. I love kissing and you are great at it. You show passion and tenderness and skill, and I get wetter. As I press into you for more, you grab my hair and pull me away. A smile and a tease. I smile back and try to kiss you again. You pull harder and I moan and grind my hips into you; wet through my skirt and underpants, and surely moistening your jeans. As you finally allow me to kiss you again, I press onto you with renewed force and reach down to stroke your hard cock through your jeans. You lean back and tell me to unzip you. I watch your eyes close as my hand slowly, and with some revenge teasing in mind, eases your hard cock out where I can see it. I use a light touch to explore the shaft and roll your foreskin slowly back and forth over the head. My hand moves slowly (frustratingly slow I hope) and you reach up and pull my mouth back to yours, kissing me hard and then very softly. I'm aching for more, so I take my top off and push my E-cups into your line of sight, arching by back and pushing my pussy against your hard cock. You lean forward as you pull me toward you and bite through my bra and into my nipple. You grip it hard, not playfully, and I exclaim my pain and pull away. But your arms go around me and pull me back in. In your strong grip you bite my breasts and neck, and moan your desire into my flesh. I try to pull away but you won't let me and I'm gushing even more wetness. I know you feel me twitch through my panties on your cock. I'm on top, I realize, but not at all in control. I grip my legs tighter on your thighs as a reassertion of my own will, but you just grab my ass, lift us up and move me onto my back and onto the floor. It happens quickly and you are stronger than I realize. I cry out in surprise and lay there panting a moment. I'm not used to being 'handled' this easily. The steady pressure of your weight makes me feel powerless, even as one of your large hands presses both of mine above my head in a strong grip. I realize I couldn't fight you off, even if I wanted to. You smile as you watch me realize this. I buck my hips defiantly while you push and pinch my breasts without remorse, while your hips and legs pin me and your teeth and lips press hard into my neck. It feels amazing, and I'm moaning, but I feel powerless too. I have to fight you. Don't I? "Shhhhh..." You whisper softly in my ear. Deliberately angling your hot breath on my neck you snake two fingers into my mouth. Deep. I resist again, pushing angrily against you, but it only lasts a few seconds. All I can feel is your whole body wanting me and my body finally relaxing in response. I allow my thoughts to melt entirely toward your desire, before I bring them back. I feel a bit silly, like I overreacted. But then I start to realize something else just happened. You whisper these quiet words into my ear, "Now, I've got you." I sigh and relax beneath you. "It's okay to struggle. I want you to. But you have to tell me clearly if you actually want to stop." You let the words sink in, and wait to see what I will do. Your grip has slackened and you are half rolled off me, watching, your hand gently cupping my jaw. I think about what struggling means and it seems serious and intense. But then I let that thought go and just relive the sensation of feeling powerless. I arch my back toward you and suck your fingers as my affirmative response. Drawing them deeper in my mouth. "Good girl," you say, and on hearing these words I gasp and arch even more. You feel my body respond and you see my eyes change. You've made the realization already, but it will take me a bit longer: your dominant has found my submissive. You move your bodyweight against me again, gripping my wrists tighter. When you say the words a second time, I respond by relaxing and opening wider. My legs, my arms, my mouth. "Yes. That's a good girl." You stroke my hair. I don't fully realize it but these words have just unlocked my liberation, they are my cue to surrender and obey. And without even thinking I sigh aloud, "Sir..." I break with those words, and I reform again. I will do this several times that night and in many nights to come; surrendering to everything and volunteering a whole lot more. When I Can Breathe Again Ch. 02 I'm a tiny bit broken on my loungeroom floor with one of your hands on my throat and the other diving into my underwear. You are kissing me and I'm choking and getting so wet to your touch that I don't know whether to bite your lips or pull your fingers deeper inside me. I do both. And you pull away. Pulling me with you. Standing me upright and stripping me roughly of my remaining clothes, while gripping my wrist. "Bedroom. Now." You say sternly, and I stagger out of my underwear toward it, ahead of your still clothed form. In the light from the loungeroom the white sheets are softly lit and you throw me on the bed. I scramble backwards but you grab my ankles and drag me toward you. "Stay." You say emphatically and return to the doorway and turn the light on. It's the harsh overhead and I protest and put my hands over my eyes. "I need to see everything." You say as a way of explanation and grab my ankle again. I understand the game a little and know that obedience is part of it. But am still not sure about how this works. "Come here." You say. It's an unambiguous demand and I get up and start moving toward you. It didn't sound harsh or strident, but then you say, "On your knees, facing away from me." I hesitate. Hang on, where is the guy whose touch was like hot rocks on my skin before? I look up at you and start to rise. "Now," you snap, and swat a hand across my exposed arse. Then leave your hand there and caress gently. There he is. The harsh and gentle guy. I save any protest and enjoy the touch. You're standing against the side of the bed behind my naked, bending form. I can feel you looking me over. I haven't been this exposed in forever and I am nervous and excited. Your hand moves from cheek to cheek, gently feeling my skin. It's rhythmic and you are skimming the space in between, where my wet, wet pussy drips. Then abruptly your fingers push into me. Hard and with purpose. Your other hand reaches out and grips my neck. You do not let me pull away. I try to, because your hands are rough, but your grip on my neck gets tighter and your fingers just push deeper as I struggle. You pound into me with your full weight behind your hand and I'm half-moaning and half trying to escape. I feel on fire and hurt and lifted into sensations that are hard and present and relentless. My muscles are spasming in a way that imitates what I know of orgasms, but it's not the same. I notice I am making inhuman sounds. You stop abruptly. Your warm hand rests on my arse again. Soothing in slow circles. The hand gripping my throat is now stroking my back and I'm trembling and breathing harshly. "Shhhhh." You say. "Breath normally. Your pussy is very wet and swollen, but you're okay. You feel fine. You look fine to me." I've collapsed down to my elbows, but you pull me into an upright kneeling position. The front of your still clothed body flat against the naked back of mine. I can feel your hardness and I reach for it. But you grip my wrist and move it away. "You're okay." You whisper in my ear and then kiss my neck. We're swaying a bit and it feels good to be kissed. Then you wrap your hand tightly around my throat and reach around and between my swollen lips to rub my clit. "Relax." You tell me and then rub harder, squeeze harder. I cannot escape your grip. Your hips push forward, your hands are relentless. I try to relax and not fight you. But instead I gasp and your hand tightens on my neck, your fingers strain against my resisting thigh. I feel like a fish on a hook, struggling against something I cannot overcome. I'm sweating and whimpering. And I'm confused about how much I love it and how scared I feel. "Listen to me," you whisper. "Relax. I have you." And I eventually do, and your hands get a bit gentler, and my body becomes more pliable in your arms. And I can breathe a bit again. My skin is humming and vibrating against you, like it's an instrument you are playing. Your fingers are firm now, but not hurtful on my clit, and they do not tire until I am bucking against you and cumming in a long, loud rhythmic gush. And I'm freed. You let me go then and I collapse forward onto the mattress to catch my breath. I almost forget about you a moment, as though you were a fantastic masturbation fantasy. But then I feel your hands on my left wrist. You bend it toward the middle of my back. Then do the same with the right. I do not protest. Then you hold them both, one on the other, and use a red scarf from the back of my door to tie them quickly and tightly together. I am trussed before I can stop it. And I struggle to look around at you above me, I'm flailing like a helpless victim on my stomach. I know this is part of the game and my struggling is part of it. But it is genuine struggle on my part, just as the force is genuine on your part. I feel in danger, but also safe. You grab both my ankles and just hold them apart. Not saying anything. Waiting for me to settle into the feeling and allowing my shoulders to get relaxed. I finally give in with a sigh and allow my body to slacken into the bed. That triggers movement and you drag me by my feet until my legs are off the bed, and my hips are resting on the edge of the mattress. I could stand up from here, but I don't try. I hear your belt unbuckle and other movement. Zip, buttons, fabric moving, a watch being taken off, and I want to look around but do not. I know you don't want me to turn around. "Good girl." You tell me as though reading my mind, and I feel happy to have made a good decision. I relax and exhale. Then your hand comes down in a brutal slap right in the centre of my right arse cheek. It is explosive and hot and stinging. And I cry out in pain. And I do turn around then, to see another blow coming from high above your head and landing on the exact same spot. The pain takes my breath from me and leaves me hot in the belly. As I roar into the mattress, I feel another and another until I have not drawn breath in many heartbeats. But I refuse to move away. Finally you pause and I turn to show you the tears in my eyes, and my confusion. But you are staring at the burning redness of my arse cheek and watching your eyes gleam, I finally understand. You are exposed too. How pleased you are at the effect on my skin, how high you are on the evidence of pain in my flesh. How happy I am to read that on your face. And so I fall for you in that moment, for it, for the pain, for everything you will do to me. And I make my decision. I raise my arse higher and say with quiet gratitude, "Thank you Sir."