[MF] How I learned to stop worrying and love the choking

In one moment, my mind was scattered in many directions – the warm water rinsing my hands, the stubborn grease on the plate, the soapy bubbles frothing where the sponge met the plate’s glossy surface. In the next, all I could feel was Ben’s hand wrapped around my neck. Squeezing and tightening as I tried to inhale and failed. My legs wobbled, and the edges of my vision began to grow dim. I felt another hand reaching into my shirt, finding my breast and ruthlessly pinching my nipple. A wave of pleasure coursed through me, and I would have moaned if I could.

***

Two nights ago, he’d noticed the unease on my face as he rolled to the side, his cock sliding out of me. “What’s wrong?” He’d asked, and I had mustered the courage to break it to him. That recently, our sex had become so routine that I had started zoning out as we did the deed. That despite how much I loved him and how perfect our live-in relationship was in every other way, the slow deterioration from passionate love making that left mementos of our sex all over the apartment to a few minutes of lazy humping on the couch had left me dissatisfied. After a flash of hot shame, he quickly agreed, and we decided we would work on it together.

As with many problems in millennial life, we turned to Google, which led us to a website for couples to separately list their kinks, and then the website would reveal the fantasies that the partners shared. When the administrative work was done and we excitedly scrolled down the page of mutual kinks, our enthusiasm gradually waned into unease, and then despair.

“I guess we both like Missionary and Doggystyle” Ben muttered. “Real kinky.”

Then we reached the bottom of the page, and in small black text found the last ray of hope in desperate times.

“Choking”.

We stayed silent for a moment. Then Ben broke it. “We would need a safe signal.” I nodded vigorously.

We decided a simple snap of the finger would do. We made no plans, and went to bed with naught but a promise that Ben would “look into it”.

***

So there we were in the kitchen two days later. I hadn’t heard him coming home, nor his footsteps until he appeared behind me. All I experienced was the abrupt transition from washing the dishes to having my oxygen choked off. Ben spun me around, his hand still firmly around my neck. “Let go”. He said softly but firmly. I realized that my hands were on his, as if I were worried about him going too far. It’s unclear what came over me, but in that moment I decided to immediately comply. Even as my lungs screamed for air, I chose to relinquish all control over my fate to my boyfriend of four years.

Then he let go. I inhaled desperately, my vision clearing as oxygen filled my lungs. I keeled over, hands on my knees as I worked to regain my composure.

“Strip.” He said, again in the soft, but commanding tone. I looked at him, a clever retort forming, but saw in his gaze that there was no room for me to disagree. Without further resistance, I removed my loose t-shirt, jeans, and panties in quick succession, unvealing my perky twenty-five year old body, a set of firm shapely boobs, with a matching set of brown nipples standing at attention.

Ben ran his gaze down my figure, as if he were regarding my body for the first time. Though I knew he was madly in love with my fit body – well toned from hours of weekly yoga, curvy enough to tell time with, and waxed regularly – in that moment I felt like a freshly purchased sex slave being evaluated by her new master. Goosebumps covered my arms as I shivered in night air.

Then he approached me and grabbed my neck, and I gasped as the same sensations coursed through me. The entire world disappeared around me as I focused on one thing: the fact that air was not entering my lungs. A wave of arousal fighting against the rising sense of panic. His hand found their way between my legs, an electric shock of pleasure rocked me as he inserted two fingers. After a few short pumps, he held his hand up for me to see that I was wet as a waterfall down below. He turned me around again, and bent me over the sink, my swaying breasts meeting the warm running water, the tips of my nipples brushing against the plate I had been washing moments earlier.

I waited for him to enter me with an anticipation I hadn’t felt in years. But instead of fucking my gushing, warm hole, he chose to give my bubbly ass a round of resounding slaps. I groaned, then immediately regretted it as what little air I had escaped.

Then as quickly as it began, it was over. He let go of me and walked away, leaving me gasping, my pussy as wet with arousal as my breasts that were being bathed in the warm sink water. I felt a rush of mixed emotions setting in. I was humiliated. I was confused. But above all else, I was horny and desperately wishing that he had fucked me before walking away.

After putting myself together again, I entered the living room to find him working on his laptop. He greeted me and asked what I had for dinner. Like the last five minutes had been nothing but a figment of my imagination.

***

The next day, we were sitting in bed side by side, reading our own books. One of my favorite parts of our relationship was our shared interest in the written word, borne of the fact that we had met while pursuing our Literature degrees. I glanced over at his book – it looked like science fiction. He had started that one just today, but was almost finished. I had just opened my mouth to ask him how it was when he abruptly set it aside, rolled on top of me, and wrapped one burly arm around my neck.

He pushed me against the headboard, his body weighing down on my petite frame. I tried to protest, but nothing came out. My grip relaxed, and I could hear my book clattering to the floor, but it sounded a thousand miles away. Once again, my brain shut out every other sensation – the smell of his body, the dull pain of my head being pressed against the wood, and focused attention on the most pressing issue – my need for oxygen. I gazed at him pleadingly, and he returned with a stern gaze. He flicked the blanket aside with his free arm, revealing my pink night gown. The already minimal coverage of my night wear was further reduced by its disheveled state, my left boob escaping completely.

He pulled the gown up, revealing my bare pussy, and brought a finger to my slit. With gentle rubbing motion, he rubbed up from my opening to the base of my clit, then back down. These tiny motions brought on waves of ecstasy that rocked through me, stripping me of control over my body. My back arched involuntarily as my toes pointed straight, a warm wave washing through me as my body prepared for the coming orgasm.

But then he stopped, and let go of my neck. Air rushed back into me, and I quickly pulled him close and said “No, no, not again!” But he shook his head, pulled away, and returned to his book.

***

He never fucked me once that week.

Instead, I spent each day on the edge of my frazzled nerves. Any time he walked by me in the apartment, I tensed up, as if anticipating another round of giving myself over to him. But then he would keep walking, and I felt sweat on my palms as I calmed down.

Then he would turn around, walk right back up to me, and forcibly bring me to my knees as his hands wrapped around my neck, and I would be once against lost in world of simultaneous bliss and panic.

We were equal partners in everything. We split the chores, we had our own careers, we respected the other’s decisions. But whenever his hands closed around me, our relationship changed, and I gave him complete power over me. It was sensual act of trust – he could go further and I would be powerless to stop him. I knew that if I snapped my fingers, he would drop everything and make sure I was okay. But in that moment of fantasy, I was being completely dominated mentally and physically.

And it was fucking hot. Just the thought of it – the anticipation when I heard him coming home and kicking off his shoes, when he walked close to me, when he looked my way – made my knees weak and my heart beat fast. As the moment passed and I realized with disappointment that it was a false alarm, I would find that there was a slipperiness had formed between my legs.

Every day, he would strike. Unpredictably, randomly, but always once a day he would choke me. Once it was in the shower as I was soaping my body, and he came into the bathroom pushed me against the shower walls, teasing my nipples and my clit with the sponge as he cut me off from air. Once it was when I was brushing my teeth, and he appeared behind me, one hand gripping my neck and the squeezing my ass. The sound of my toothbrush clattering into the sink was dull and faint, as I saw my face turning red in the mirror and waves of ecstasy rocked my body. Each time, I wished desperately that this was it – that he would finally fuck me and give me released. But each time, he would leave me bent over, my pussy dripping as I gulped down deep breaths of air, red fingerprints on my neck.

My the end of the week, I was at my mental limit. I stripped down to nothing and spread my legs on the couch, and waited for him to come home. I felt a rush of excitement when I finally heard the key turning in the lock, followed by the sound of him setting down his umbrella and removing his coat. I gave him my best seductive look as I licked my finger and brought it down to my crotch, playing with myself as I moaned softly.

“Come over here, daddy.” I crooned. “Come fuck me. I’ve been waiting all day.”

He approached me, completely expressionless. His fingers found their way around my neck, and in a moment I was sprawled over the couch, legs splaying out beneath me, all sense of presentation flying out the window as I surrendered again to the strength of his grip. He shoved a finger into my mouth, swirled it around as he played with my tongue. Then he removed it, and brought it to my crotch, teasing me with a finger lubricated by my own saliva. He brought me to the edge, and just as I hoped desperately that this was finally it, he stopped. He released me, and I groaned and whimpered. He said nothing and walked away, leaving me a hot horny mess.

***

We went out for drinks with friends on Saturday night. After a few stops, we landed at a quiet bar with nice ambiance, and took seats around a large table. As our friends bantered and relived old times, Ben’s kept his arm around my waist. Then the waitress came to take another round of drinks, and in the brief moment that everyone was looking away, his hand softly brushed against my neck. Not closing all the way, but just enough to make me feel a pinch.

That’s all it took. He had taught me to respond to his touch, conditioned like Pavlov’s rat. I felt dizzy as a warm wave washed over me, and I crossed my legs and stopped over, hoping no one would notice. My thighs were already slippery with lubrication, and he smiled at me. Leaning close, he whispered into my ear “tonight”.

For the rest of that night, I could focus on nothing else but the daydreams of us getting home, our clothes flying off and him entering me. Every minute was pure agony, and I hoped my friends would attribute my flushed face to the alcohol. It was an immense relief when Ben finally said “alright folks, we’re calling it in for the night.”

On the Uber ride home, Ben snuck a finger under my dress and found my panties. He worked a finger inside, and I did my best not to scream as he rubbed my clit. I hoped the driver couldn’t hear the sound of sloshing from my drenched pussy over the sounds of the night traffic.

When we finally got home, I planted a deep kiss on his lips the moment before the door even closed behind him. He pushed me away, and said “on your knees”. I pouted, but quickly obliged. He unbuckled and removed his belt, and wrapped it around my windpipe. After a week of nightly choking, I now relished the feeling of the leather against my neck. He held out his hand and said “Panties.” I reached down removed the thong I’d worn in the hopes that tonight would finally be night. He took it and stuffed in my mouth, then tightened the strap. He turned and walked toward the bedroom, leading me with the belt like a leash. I had no choice but to crawl after him like a well trained pet. I wondered how I looked, my tits hanging out of my tight dress, gagged my own thong and being led by around the apartment.

When we reached the bed, he pulled up forcefully, choking me and dragging me to a standing position. With his other hand, he unzipped my dress and undid my bra, leaving me totally bare. He turned me around and shoved me against the wall, where our standing mirror was. I rubbed my ass against him playfully, and he grabbed my hair with one hand while pulling the belt with other. The leather dug into my skin, cutting off my air and signaling that it was time to submit to him. I bent over dutifully, giving him a perfect view of my pear shaped ass.

There was some shuffling behind me, and my vision began to dim as I felt the rising need for oxygen. Then in a smooth motion, he entered me, and every other thought left my mind as I entered heaven. A week’s worth of frustration and anticipation meant that I was ready to cum right away. Which I did, in great rocking waves. I wanted so badly to scream, but nothing came out. He pulled up on the belt, bringing me towards him. I felt his hot breath on my neck, and I saw myself in the mirror. Head thrust back, a black belt around my neck. My ample bosom proudly on display, as my legs were parted and my thighs were slick with my gushing juices. His hard, throbbing cock impaling me, and my legs convulsing beneath me as orgasm after orgasm rolled through me in waves. His hand at my crotch, rubbing my clit vigorously as he fucked me.

He undid the belt, giving me access to air again. He brought his other hand to my mouth, and I licked his fingers, tasting myself on them.

“You have ten seconds to breathe.” He whispered into my ear. I nodded, and took deep breaths. He led me by my hair to the bed and bent me over, entering me again. He thrust ruthlessly into me, not giving me a moment’s respite. My legs tensed as my nipples rubbed against the blanket, my screams loud enough to wake the neighbors. He climbed past me onto the bed and pulled me up. Then he said “time’s up” and his hand wrapped around my windpipe once more.

My legs were flailing beneath me as I was cut off from air for the second time that night. Keeping one hand around my neck, he guided his cock into my wet, pulsating slit with the other. He slung my leg onto his shoulder and began pounding away, the tip of his member hitting the wall of my womb from that angle. I was awash in a mixture of intense pleasure and pain, the lines blurring between the two sensations like my brain was being rewired. Occasionally he would reach down and pinch my nipples, slap my face, or turn me around and fuck me from behind. All the while his hands stayed around my neck, letting me know that he was still in control, and that I was to continue submitting my mind and body to him.

I lost track of how long we fucked that night, and how many times I came. What I do remember is the rush of oxygen when he unclasped his hands from my windpipe for the final time, and the wobbling of my legs as I tried to get off the bed. Me falling over as my legs gave out, and him picking me up and carrying me back to the bed. The gentle touch of his lips as he planted a kiss on my cheek. The dull ache of my pussy as it throbbed from the pounding I’d received, and the blissful feeling of falling into a deep sleep with my sexual cravings finally sated.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/bi9wex/mf_how_i_learned_to_stop_worrying_and_love_the