The second my hands moved to her neck, I could tell she grew nervous. We were naked, physically and emotionally, we had confessed things that neither of us could take back–we were lost lovers.
So it was that we fell to enjoying ourselves, to filling ourselves of each other, to laying ourselves bare. She opened to me and I was enveloped in her warmth. To her, this was business as usual, this was typical, desirable, expected. For me, I felt privileged; of course, I'd never tell her that. Whatever the case, the both of us couldn't think of anything other than the reaching, the straining, the pulling and twisting of desire and need. We were each other and felt it.
Then I reached for her throat.
Her eyes widened.
Was she in danger? Did she misread my character, my personality? Did she happen to run into a maniac, a freak, a killer? I could feel these thoughts race through her head as I tightened my grip, as I moved in her repeatedly, as she felt the joy of myself inside of her as she began to fear for her life.
I loosened my grip and reached down to kiss her, reassuring her. She moaned and accepted, relented and threw her head back in ecstasy because she knew she was safe and she was wanted and I was in fury over her. The animality of my desire that scared her so quickly became the centerpiece of desire, of belief, of trust.
My hand moved towards her neck again and this time she looked at me with a devious glint in her eyes. She wanted the roughness, the insensitivity, the danger. I moved my hand behind her neck and lifted her to my level, to see closer the wanting in her eyes. I couldn't help but kiss her, suck her tongue and hear her quietly shriek in anticipation. But I threw myself away from her, never stopping the movement, but leaving her rough and returning my grip to her throat. I gripped. I squeezed. She knew.
She chose to trust me. I strengthened my hold and saw in her eyes tears as she gave further and further to my plans. Do you trust me now? Will you trust me as I hold your life in my hands? Will you trust me as breath leaves your lungs?
She did. Her face grew red and I didn't let go. She began to gasp and I saw her pupils dilate. I loved her.
The moment came when she raised her hand to caress my cheek that I could take no more and relaxed my grip to once again taste her lips.
"I love you so much," I heard myself say.
"Don't stop," she spat. "Give me. Please."
Her eyes felt safe in mine, so my hand violently wrapped her neck once more. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to save her. I needed her and I could destroy her. I loved her and I couldn't bear hurting her. She ran her hands down my forearms and she felt them go stiff with muscle as I choked the life out of her. She gagged through my grip and I was overcome with pity, but I couldn't give in. She wanted to test my manhood. She wanted to test my loyalty. She wished to see how far I would go. She wanted to measure my love for her, my devotion. She wanted me to almost kill her. I loved her for that trust. I slowed my hips and weakened my grip.
"I love you too much," I said.
"Hurt me," she commanded.
"Of course," I obeyed.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/2s1v5e/choking_trust_sex_mf_xpost_with_reroticwriting