Take a deep breath
by D. Katarina
In each BDSM interaction, there are two perspectives – on the surface seemingly opposite. But in reality, each one is part of the same erotic dance, such as this leather smothering scenario:
“Take a deep breath” I’m lying on my back looking up at Her gorgeous ass – encased in a pair of soft lamb skin leather pants, and just inches above my head – when I first hear her say those words. I quickly start to inhale a big breath of leather-scented air, but before it is complete She sits down forcefully on my face and completely seals my mouth and nose in the leather pants. A millisecond later my world turns dark as my eyes are also covered beneath Her ass. “Can you breath?” She asks.
Here, it becomes an important aspect of making sure that I do have complete control. If he said or gestured that he actually can breathe I would take all the measures to improve the way my leathered ass seals and conceals his face. It already must feel like heaven for him to be played with and for his fantasy to come true. I want him to be completely dependent on my will: his capability to breathe would only mock my erotic game. It is my fantasy that solely depends on my own will and my will relies on it. With submissive men like him I enjoy taking them beyond what they thought they can handle. Men are smart creatures that do not hide their sexual inclinations so once they are known to me, I find nothing more pleasurable and amusing than toying with them.
I don’t really know. It has not even occurred to me to try to breathe. I try to suck in some more air. I can’t. Those leather pants have formed an absolutely air-tight seal. Maybe I can blow out a little bit of air….even that would feel good. But no. Nothing. I begin to get frightened. I try to turn my head to the side to try to break the seal, but nothing works. So I shake my head just enough to signal “No, I can’t breathe”. It turns out, that is exactly what She wanted to hear. Now I feel Her reach down and hold Her cheeks apart a bit as She rocks from side to side, and I sink down even deeper into Her ass.
Before he arrives, when I am getting ready for him, I carefully choose what I’ll wear for that particular night. The feel of second skin against my own skin only intensifies the already strong sensation of taking hold of some one so closely, intimately. I’m also attached to wearing leather emotionally not just physically: when I put it on it instantly charges me and I am quite intoxicated with feminine sexual confidence. The subtle edge, the extravagant elegance, the timeless look, the impenetrable durability of leather make for a perfect, authoritative outfit. Leather and imposing its power on others is a statement to me. I dare you to challenge me when I wear it.
“Thirty seconds.” Oh no. It’s only been thirty seconds? Already I don’t think I can go on much longer. I’m becoming more desperate for air. My body begins fruitlessly gasping in and out…trying to find even just a sip, but it’s hopeless. Not a molecule of air can get past the leather. She ignores my torment. Being smothered under Her seat is absolute, total submission. She Is using me for Her sadistic pleasure, and there is no escape. “STOP STRUGGLING!” She orders. She prefers Her captives to remain still. Besides, struggling only causes me to use up the remaining oxygen faster. So I relax and concentrate on the feeling of being imprisoned under that magnificent ass.
It’s not just that I prefer my subs to remain still, as, after all I can restrain them. It’s rather about giving up control for the time being. I want them immersed into the present, because that is what is real. Sharing the moment of desire and mutual fetish, respectfully and respectively each from different status point of view, like a symphony in crescendo, eventually ends. It is a key and a turn on to know that my object’s mind doesn’t wander, but is firmly rooted in the now-time, with all the possible expressions of physical arousal.
She brings up Her leathered legs and places them across my chest, so that Her full body weight is on me. The weight causes Her seat to bear down on me even harder – almost unbearable – but also unbearably erotic.
Why would any man want to escape such heavenly position?
“One minute!…..Good boi” Now I am seriously desperate for air. I start to panic a little. I try to move my head to signal Her, hoping She will feel my anguish and give me some small mercy. “Is it getting difficult for You?” She says “….Good!” Despite my distress, I find those words exciting and very arousing. She is enjoying my suffering, and just knowing that She likes it makes me hard. I calm down, and do my best to just accept Her torture.
That’s exactly what I want: surrender, acceptance, peace, so there can be space enough for play, fun, enjoyment, pleasure and erotic connection. It’s only when one surrenders to pain and allows it go through the body it can transform into another, higher, more divine sensation.
“One minute, thirty seconds” Every second has now become an agony that seems to last for a hour. My entire world is reduced to only that seat crushing my face. I feel like She is making love to me by smothering me so long and so hard. The harder She smothers me, the harder She is metaphorically fucking me. I can’t endure it much longer, but I don’t want it to end. By now, the real panic begins. The need for air has become a fierce urgency. I think She senses my panic, but I also think that only makes Her more excited. She continues sitting joyfully and counting down the seconds as they increase.
My counting down is extremely arousing to me: I know the risks, and they thrill me. As I am looking at his hard dick each following number that leaves my lips seems to magnify his erection. The throbbing cock cannot be a manifest of anything else but the state of bliss. When I finally lift up the orgasmic wave of his relief is evidently more satisfying than the actual orgasm.
“One minute forty-eight. A new record! Very good” At last She rises up and permits me to gasp in some air. I breathe in and feel a tremendous relief. But even more strongly than the relief, I feel an immense gratitude for Her kindness in allowing me to breathe once more.
I’m glad though that I am still, after all this, considered kind.
As I rapidly try to catch my breath, She stands up and slowly turns around facing forward. Then She kneels down over me once more. I look up and this time to see Her inner thighs and Her leather covered pussy just inches away. She glares down with Her piercing eyes, and I know that She is nowhere near finished with me. Then again I hear Her say: “Take a deep breath….”
“One minute and 23, 24, hold on there under my leathered ass!”