Rubicon, Part 1 [FM] [Msub] [Fdom] [bdsm] [huml] [cnc] [hypno] [bd]

She was determined to make it happen.

“Aren’t you gonna ask why I made sure you got a full night’s sleep every day this week?”

“I assume I’ll find out in a bit.” Even though his confidence was a thin veneer over strident anticipation—and she knew it, and he knew she knew it—he grinned anyway. For reasons that would never become clear to him, it felt important to put up some resistance before they began, even if it was mostly for his ego.

She sighed and smiled back. “I have never loved that expression on your face more than right now,” she said.

In retrospect, that should have worried him more than it did.

He stretched languidly beneath her, pleasantly adrift in curiosity. He tried to keep his mind from cycling through the possibilities, wanting to stay present and engaged in the moment for her. She had treated him particularly well that week, and she had promised to reward him with his favorite arrangement: being cuffed spread-eagle to the bed—almost too tightly. Long ago, she had dubbed the position “the lazy submissive”. He wriggled subtly in anticipation of the bondage.

She laid her palms under his biceps and sank into a long, luxurious kiss. He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, reveling in the scent of her tousled brown hair draping down on either side of his face. It tickled his cheeks and reminded him of summer as he moaned on the exhale, feeling the vibrato rumble from his chest into hers.

The kiss lingered for so long that they both momentarily doubted the existence of the rest of the world. He shuddered when she traced a thumb over the side of his chest; feeling the tip of her tongue tease his lips, he drew a gasping breath through his nose.

His body was warm and pliant between her thighs, like a battery discharging in hot waves through her own. Reluctantly, she broke the kiss, with the gluttonous resolve of someone leaving the finest entree half-eaten to leave room for the finest dessert instead.

“I need you to listen really carefully. Okay, pet?”

She brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, and their eyes locked. She remembered from a mostly-boring leadership course that flickering from eye-to-eye was more distracting than picking one to focus on. She chose his right.

She could see the faintest glimmer of fear dance over his expression, and she already felt the twin lusts grappling inside her: she ached to comfort him; she could barely stand to leave him un-violated.

She felt his body shudder between her legs, but didn’t notice herself licking her lips.

He noticed.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, still smiling, his own contradictory desires humming awake: to burn in the flame of her sadism and bask in the sunbeam of her compassion; to be despoiled and to be spoiled. Not necessarily in that order.

“We’ve been talking about the boundary-pushing scene for a really long time now, and I’m ready for it.

“We’ll do it now… tonight… if you’re ready. But, before you answer…” She bit her lip, leaned back, looked away—just for a moment. She could feel herself making the final emotional preparations, and felt more scared and powerful with every word.

“You’re not gonna like it.

“You’re going to regret it, because that’s the point. I’m going to take you to the line of violation, and I’m going to keep going. And we explicitly negotiated that there would be no safewords. That is a big fucking deal, and it’s not a decision you should make lightly tonight.”

She couldn’t believe how hard this was. She felt like begging. She wanted to tell him how many times she’d masturbated fervently as soon as she got home from work, fantasizing about this exact moment. If he backed out now, it wouldn’t just disappoint her; she would be devastated.

His consent had to be utterly immaculate. She couldn’t give him any excuses, including momentary fear of disappointment. She fixed him with a grave, unwavering stare, and removed every possible ounce of seduction and hopefulness from her voice.

“I know what I’m about to do with you, and my honest advice is for you to swallow your pride and pass on this tonight. This isn’t just a fantasy or a game. I am really going to push you, and if you let me start this, there is no turning back.

“Are you completely sure you want to do this?”

He barely hesitated.

“Yes Mistress.”

She wanted to slap him. Wasn’t he listening?

And, yet…

Something about his face made her hesitate. She was still eager to sink her teeth into him, but her gut told her to wait. There was something about the moment, a perverse epiphany dangling just outside her awareness.

His transformation had been instant, consummate. He was transfixed, and her  heartbeat quickened.

She needed to buy time.

“You answered pretty quickly for someone about to sign a blank check for their own suffering.”

She just needed a few seconds to think, but he replied immediately again:

“I was sure, Mistress.”

What was she missing? Why did his eagerness pique her intuition so strongly?

“Do you understand why I was skeptical? You barely thought about it at all.”

“Please…”

There.

That was it.

She studied the change that had taken place in his demeanor: he was breathing evenly, mouth slightly open, eyes a little wide. He was waiting for her to take the control he had so desperately offered.

A wave of relief washed over her body, quickly sublimating into arousal. She couldn’t help but grin as she finally apprehended the epiphany that began tickling at the back of her mind just moments ago:

He had given his consent—now he was asking for her to accept it. He hadn’t just given her permission to violate him…

He was begging for it.

Looking at him again, she was abruptly gut-checked by another, even more delicious revelation:

He didn’t know.

Apprehension worked its way across his face with every moment that she deigned to wait in silence. She had obscured her desire so thoroughly that he now lay before her in purgatory—a subjugated wolf bearing its neck to the pack leader, waiting for the freedom of oblivion or the searing agony of rejection.

She shut her eyes and composed herself, her insides twisting with impatience to hurt him. She decided that she needed—no—wanted to explore this completely.

She forced herself to sound annoyed.

“You’re rock hard. How am I supposed to trust your word when you’re probably thinking with your dick?”

He whimpered.

This was the reward for her patience. This was the mental dungeon she didn’t even realize she had been crafting around him. Concealing her immediate hunger for sadism didn’t just create a safe space for him to willingly give up control; it also utterly deprived him of the ability to form expectations about what she had in store.

Was she doing him a favor by hurting him, or was he doing her a favor by letting her?

She had all of the information now. Only she knew just how desperately they both wanted this. He had begun the game with his permission—and instantly, unknowingly, ceded it to her with his plea.

She looked at him again. She could feel how badly he ached for her to rip him apart. She saw in him the same fear and desperation she had felt only moments before: he was on the brink of devastation, hoping against hope that his fantasies might be validated.

It was cruel to keep him in the dark, and cruelty was exactly what he had just signed up for.

She took a deep breath, and glared intently at him. Her thirst for his screams had subsided temporarily; there was no need to rush, anymore.

She was going to play with her food.

“I’m trying to do you a favor, to give you an out, and you’re practically dry humping me already.

He shivered.

“I’m telling you, in no uncertain terms: I’m gonna hurt you.”

His cock twitched again.

She savored the taste of every word:

“Severely. Relentlessly.”

She watched him carefully as she spoke. His breath came in shorter gasps now. His mind was short-circuited waiting for the next morsel of anticipation. The fear was gone—replaced by a heedless craving for more fuel in the moments before the match was struck.

“Fine,” she thought to herself, “he wants to get off on this?

“I’ll make him sell me his fucking soul.”

“You can still back out.”

“No, Mistress.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes Mistress.”

She grinned derisively as his cock strained against her panties.

“Every time I make it sound worse, you want it more. You don’t care that you’re overcommitting. You just love feeling like there’s doom on the horizon.”

“No, no, no please. I swear I’m not overcommitting. I want this.”

“You don’t even know what the fuck it is! Has it occurred to you that maybe I haven’t told you because I know you definitely won’t want it?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Then in what way is this not completely fucking stupid?”

“It’s completely stupid, Mistress.”

“Spread out,” she commanded. “I’m gonna see if the cuffs give you some perspective.”

“Yes, Mistress. Does this mean you’re doing it?”

She slipped a new heavy leather cuff around one of his ankles, and fastened it to the under-bed tether.

“I’m thinking about it. You really do not seem to understand what you’re agreeing to.”

“I do, Mistress.”

“You do?” She simpered, fastening his other ankle. “So, when you’re sobbing later, offering me everything and anything you can think of to make it stop, and I remind you that you asked for it… what are you gonna do?”

He spluttered. She finished his right wrist, and watched him begin to let go.

“You already can’t form a sentence.

“What if I ordered you to back out? Would you obey me?”

“Oh, no. Please don’t. Please don’t order me to do that, Mistress.”

He was strapped down completely now, without more than an inch of wiggle room on each limb—basically enough room to afford for breathing, and not much else. His breathing was labored and tinctured with whimpers at the peak of his exhales. She stroked his biceps indulgently, and looked back down at him.

“Look. I know you. I know your limits. I know what scares you. I’m smarter, meaner, and more sadistic than you. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this since the first moment I saw you on that subway platform.”

She could feel his heart beating faster beneath the hand she laid on his chest.

“I won’t stop when the cuffs make you uncomfortable and your arms are tired. I won’t stop when the tears come. I won’t stop when they run out. I won’t stop when you stop being okay.”

Her gaze impaled him. He could barely breathe. 

“Because. That. Is. What. You’re. Asking. For.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as the shape of the night began to unfold around him.

“This is your last chance to back out. You’re allowed to not be ready for this. If you really, really are…”

She took a deep breath, already pressing her palms against his chest and carefully restraining the urge to dig her nails in as he shuddered.

“If you’re ready, then you say ‘I want to hurt, Mistress’, and you’re never going to be the same after. You say exactly that, and nothing else, and you don’t say it until you’re dead fucking sure this is what you want. No half-assed split-second deliberation this time. Make. Sure.”

She leaned back until she was sitting up on top of him, letting her fingers trace over his stomach, then folding her arms over her chest, staring down at him.

“I’ll wait.”

She would later swear that she could smell his fear in that moment. It was addictive, and she was also afraid, and the atoms of their bodies were barely separate anymore.

He thought for a long time. She smirked at the unbidden image of her casually checking her phone, swiping through internet mundanities as he contemplated consenting to his own violation. Would it be appropriate comeuppance for every time he’d asked what she thought of some stupid joke picture when she was trying to concentrate on, oh, anything else?

She set the distraction aside and watched him with predatory hyperfocus as his chest rose.

She listened, and felt the hot rush of arousal and power, enrapt by the syllables tumbling from his lips like a sorcerous incantation she’d fooled him into uttering:

“I want to hurt, Mistress.”

“Oh…” She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily. A wave of something rolling through her body so violently that she felt as if she had been struck, and she sucked in a breath.

“Sweetie,” She let her hands drop to his chest, where her fingertips splayed out across his skin.

Her head dipped back, closed eyes facing the ceiling, forcing her words out through a thick fog of wanton lust. With each subsequent pause in speech, she dug her nails a little deeper.

“That was just *incredibly* fucking stupid of you.”

If she pressed any harder, she would draw blood. He had instantly become a taut, wide-eyed conduit of unexpected agony, accustomed to long and gratuitous nights of build-up before being so challenged. Only a few seconds after her fingers first touched his flesh, she relented, mentally admonishing herself to be more patient: she was going to break him tonight, but so much more innovatively than with mere physical pain.

His body went limp with relief, and he spluttered: “Oh… fuck,” and watched ten deep red marks blush to life across his chest.

She dragged her palms up to his shoulders, thumbs digging gently into the dip of his collarbone. A faint twinge of real anger pulsed through her body. The hubris of his cavalier grin, which she swooned at only minutes before, made her grip tighten… did he really think he was fooling her? What kind of self-sabotaging dipshit would stubbornly ask for something like this even when it was abundantly clear that things wouldn’t go his way? What was he getting out of this?

She opened her eyes.

He was so, so beautiful.

She covered her mouth with one hand and whimpered as she felt the warm glow of tears build and dissipate between her cheekbones without coming to fruition. For a moment, she considered masking the tenderness behind a tease or command, but she immediately shoved the urge away and resolved to pay it no heed for the rest of the night.

She would show him her naked kindness and cruelty.

“I love you,” he ventured.

“I love you.” She slid a hand up his neck, cradling a cheek in her palm.

He gazed up at her, chest still in lingering pain, her warm hand so perfect against his face. He thought of a clever quip, and discarded it.

“Seriously…” she said, suddenly lighthearted, and continued in a rumbling voice with a vague foreign accent, “have you no scruples, man?”

He cracked a grin at the in-joke, surprised at his own laughter, and relaxed.

She struck instantly.

With one hand fisted in the hair at his scalp and the other gripping his testicles with slowly mounting pressure, she brushed her lips against his ear and snarled:

“Do you want to hear how I’m fucking you over tonight?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, barely choking the words out. Her lips felt electric against his skin.

“Good!” She chirped, embracing the sudden violent swing of her moods. She swung her body back up to a sitting position and slid her hands down to where his waist met her thighs, feeling the tremor of arousal bubble through him. His dazed expression made her grin smugly.

“Tonight, I’m going to hypnotize you,” she beamed. He listened, focusing with some effort despite her schizophrenic pace and the dull ache in his balls.

“But, it’s going to be very, very special. Because I’m not just gonna use my voice, or my hands, or my eyes. I’m gonna use something that will work better than all of those things put together. Can you guess what it is?”

She squeezed her eyes shut to affect an exaggerated, cherubic grin. She watched him start to clumsily theorize, and decided that she was feeling too impatient to let him catch up with her. She wiggled her hips suggestively, feeling him shiver and stiffen beneath her.

“I’m going to hypnotize you with my cunt.”

She laughed once, loudly, at his quizzical expression.

“You’re going to… fuck me?” He guessed.

“No,” The grin overtook her entire face. “I’m gonna give you what you’re always begging for”—she tapped a finger against his nose—“and bring you under with the scent.”

He froze, squirming slightly beneath her. She watched his cheeks flush red and suddenly wanted to kiss him, so she did.

“But, you…” he began, as she leaned back to a sitting position.

“Think it’s weird?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Yeah, I do. And I’ll think it’s just as weird tonight, if not weirder. You’re gonna have to deal with every ounce of embarrassment yourself, and it’s only going to get worse. Because, tonight, I’m not only ordering you to breathe as deeply and desperately as you’ve always wanted to…

“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be incapable of doing anything else.”

He could feel it starting—a soothing pall of self-reinforcing suggestibility, weighted down around him by the lilting natural melodies of her voice—and welcomed it.  

“See, here’s how this is going to work, my darling, gorgeous, pathetic pussy-whore. I’m gonna pinch your nose shut, and you’re gonna be a good boy and keep your mouth closed. Then, when your lungs are burning for air, I’m gonna let go and you’re going to take a nice… long… deep breath.

“Of me.

“I’m gonna be the air that keeps you alive.

“And that first breath, when the scent starts buzzing through your system, finding all the cracks in your consciousness, invading your whole body… by the time you finish making that first breath, you’re going to be in the deepest trance you’ve ever felt. Do you remember what that was like?

“Think about it.

“Remember every detail. It’s only a few seconds away now.

“Ready?

“No?

“Good.”

She abruptly dropped her body against his, knocking the wind from him, and clamped a hand over his nose. Drunk with the thrill of predatory conquest, she inched up his body on her knees, watching as his eyes darted around and the traces of air in his lungs began to run out.

“Remember… mouth shut.”

She rested a pinky against his lips, twisting her arm to maintain her grip as she nestled her knees into place on either side of his head. She gripped his eyes with hers and refused to let go. Her voice dripped with the sweetest, most patronizing, paralyzing venom she could muster.

“I’ve been wearing these panties for a few days… gotten off in them at least twice… and they’re already soaked through again. I made sure to pick the pair with the thickest material, so you can breathe through it even when my pussy is covering your nose. Just like it will be in a second.”

He made a sound that would have been a sob if he could breathe.

“Oh… you thought I didn’t pay attention to what you like, just because I don’t want to indulge you all the time?”

She drank his pathetic, choked whimpers like wine. His face was crimson, and she couldn’t decide if the humiliation or the lack of breath was the hotter reason. He started to groan and writhe, chest spasming as his lungs instinctively, vainly, tried to inflate.

“You’re being such a good boy. I bet you want to inhale right now, don’t you?”

He was writhing too desperately to nod, and she stayed in that position until she could feel his lips brush against her little finger as they began to part. 

Only then, when his body was ready to betray him to stay alive, did she lift her hand and drop her hips, pinning his head in place between her thighs, sitting so firmly that she could feel his nose nestled between the lips of her sex. She watched, mesmerized by the vision of his life sealed between her legs, as he began to inhale. 

He felt it behind his nose first: a sweet musk that bypassed higher thought, enveloping him in a feral memory of earth and fucking and flowers and cum. He wanted to slow down, he wanted to make a cool self-deprecating joke and a handsome smile, he wanted to escape from her enrapt gaze patiently observing his raw, selfish indulgence, but his blood cried out for oxygen, and he pulled the sex-soaked air through his nose, and a thrumming cloud of spice and perfume filled his lungs.

He lost control.

He wanted to keep inhaling until he popped like a balloon and died the happiest ape in history. His lungs burned from overstretching before he stopped.

It was almost too much for him. In a placid corner of his mind, he felt a surreal and nonsensical pang of disappointment that he wasn’t overwhelmed enough to prevent him from reflecting on the experience yet. He quickly lost track of the thought; instead, he marvelled at the accuracy of her description. It felt like the dizziness of oxygen deprivation had partially unwoven the threads of his mind, creating gaps and crevasses where her influence could seep through, borne on the tendrils of intoxicating pheromones that now permeated his most acute sense, glowing like a hidden root system as his other functions came back online.

The tension drained from his muscles, and a deep, almost frantic shudder ran up his spine as he completed the breath.

Her scent was omnipresent. He had to force his eyes into focus, and saw her smiling sweetly down at him between her thighs, like a nature goddess watching her worshippers thrive, gazing benevolently from the heavens above their inviolate valley. He wanted to express this idea to her somehow—you look like a goddess—but the only words that came to mind were “FUCK CUNT SNIFF LOVE”, which he retained enough discernment to reject as just barely too crude.

He was enjoying himself too much to reflect on how intense and drug-like the experience seemed, even accounting for the circumstances.

She knew why.

“Good boy. Very good boy.”

He felt one of her hands tracing down his body, and his eyes went wide as she shoved, ripping the air out of him again, her other hand clamped around his nose.

She counted out loud:

“One.”

“We’re gonna count to ten breaths, pet.”

Her free hand traced spirals around his chest.

“Each one is going to bring you exponentially further.”

Her eyes would be pinning his head in place even if her knees weren’t.

“Do you understand? I’m gonna say ‘one’, ‘two’, ‘five’, ‘ten’, but you’ll be sinking much deeper.”

His lungs were already burning. He struggled to keep his mouth shut. He watched her lips move, wondered how it would taste to lick her smooth, perfect jawline.

“You’re already at ten, and I know you believe that. After this second breath, you’ll be at a hundred. After the third, a thousand. Visualize it. Think of the way an exponent looks and feels. You can do that, can’t you, sweetie? My scent doesn’t cripple your mind that quickly, does it?”

Her words sank into his brain like depth charges. He pictured a graph with a straight line, saw it eclipsed by an exponent curving towards infinity. One moment he was sure that he didn’t have the conscious brain power to hold the imagery, the next moment he could feel her commands echoing through him, sewing thoughts together in their wake. Ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand. A hundred thousand. A million.

Did that even make sense? What choice did he have except to imagine it? The lingering trace of her scent was like an anchor strapped to his leg, inexorably dragging him down into meta-consciousness.

“By the time you finish your fifth breath, your body will do nothing except what I say.”

He needed air. His chest began to spasm again. His vision was blurring.

“By the time you finish the tenth, you’ll want nothing except what I want.”

He couldn’t hold out anymore. As soon as his lips began to pry themselves open, they brushed across her waiting finger, and she pressed herself against his face again, forcing him to draw his next desperate breath through his nose. She held his gaze as he inhaled, and her words soothed and terrified him:

“From that moment on, one sniff will be all it takes to bring you back… and it’ll get a little deeper every time.

“Two.

“When you smell me, your thoughts come undone as you have them, except the thoughts I command you to have.”

He briefly wondered if she’d drugged him. His eyes cycled through enrapt terror, naked anticipation, drunken bliss. His eyebrows, so thin and agile, would press together and soften again, framing the patch of his bright red face visible between her thighs.

“Three.

“When you smell me, it sinks into your muscles. You won’t even make it to ten before you need my permission to move.”

She briefly wondered if she’d ever get tired of bragging about the next few hours to her friends. His eyes shut on the next inhale, and his body slackened; for a moment, he reminded her of a puppy getting its belly rubbed. She savored the odyssey of unfiltered beatitude that played out across his face between the time his eyes opened and when he remembered to be embarrassed.

“Four.

“Remember how deep four is? No, you don’t. It’s even deeper than that. An order of magnitude deeper. Don’t trust your memory. Trust me.

“Good boy.”

His eyes glimmered with the wet of building tears, and he drew in a shivering breath.

“When you smell me, it feels so good. The scent becomes pleasure, and the pleasure makes your willpower irrelevant.”

She was too mesmerized by his helplessness to grin in anticipation of her next move. The cadence of her speech rose and fell like a rolling hillside, with perfect tall grass swaying in the gentle breeze of her voice.

“I’m giving you back your mind and body—temporarily. It will come back gradually, but then you can speak and think.”

She slowly shifted her hips back down his body, immediately missing his face—his tenuous life—under her sex. She was quickly placated by the feel of his straining erection pressing against her instead.

“Breathe some regular air. Enough that you can speak and think. Let it come back. Your filters are gone, though. When words come, you say them. You are not in control of your own judgment. You have none. Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.” His body was perfectly still except for his shallow breaths and throbbing cock.

“Good boy. Now, you are going to tell me exactly how you feel about tonight so far. There will be no ambiguity. You will read me your expectations and their context as easily as if you were reading a grocery list.

“Go.”

“I’m having the time of my life, Mistress, but I don’t feel like my boundaries are being pushed. I feel like I would be pretending if I begged you to stop.”

“Good boy. You’re not even completely under my control yet, but you told the truth. Were you afraid of disappointing me by not feeling violated yet?”

“Yes, Mistress.” His brow creased almost imperceptibly, as if the mere mention of disappointing her broke his heart a little.

“It’s okay, pet.” She cooed, looking him in the eyes and smiling sweetly. As his lips began to crease and mirror her smile, she leaned forward and struck his abdomen with her palms, knocking the wind violently from him. He coughed in shock, and once again, she pinched his nose shut before he could breathe.

Her anticipation was palpable, and she was trying to keep her hands from shaking. 

So close.

“I haven’t shown you what I’m going to do with my control yet.”

She swallowed, willing her voice to remain steady. Her body was on fire.

She should have fucked him first.

“The fun part is over.”

Once again, she inched up his body. She wanted to make him bleed. She wanted grab his hair and fuck his face, still creased with the pain and surprise of her blow to his stomach. 

“For you.”

She had never seen his eyes so wide. She had never seen him look so much like an angel. 

“Now it’s my turn. For good.”

So close.

“You will stay fully conscious as you take the fifth breath.”

His muscles strained as he pulled on the cuffs and tried to get away. He had never seen this look in her eyes before.

She watched him start to panic.

He tasted bitter, intoxicating fear.

“You will feel the wheeze of every last remaining shred of your self-control… as it chokes on the stink of my sweaty, heavenly cunt… and dies. Leaving you behind to be my toy.”

Once again, she waited until his mouth began to involuntarily open, memorizing exactly how long he could last. She could barely keep her hand on his nose, her knuckles so tantalizingly close to her clit.

“You will be the perfect little victim—and let me watch as your last sliver of freedom fades away… at the exact moment you realize what a fucking disaster you could have averted by listening to me and backing down.”

Once again, she opened her hand and dropped her hips.

“I did it,” she thought, heart racing with villainous exhilaration. “I fucking own him, and now I get to watch him realize.”

She shuddered violently, orgasming hard around his face as he began to inhale. Forcing herself to keep eye contact as she came, she snarled out an incantation of her own:

“Soon your deepest desires will belong to me.”

Suddenly, he remembered last night.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5er96x/rubicon_part_1_fm_msub_fdom_bdsm_huml_cnc_hypno_bd