Breathless

2025-01-15T06:34:32Z

The heels of my matching hot pink stilettos click sharply against the floor as I back away, a deliberate retreat, until the cool surface of the wall presses into my bare shoulders. My breath quickens, shallow and uneven, anticipation curling like heat in my chest as you step closer. The sound of your measured footsteps sends a shiver through me, each one echoing the growing tension. My glasses slide slightly down my nose, but I make no move to fix them this time. My fingers tremble too much anyway.

You raise your hand, brushing my strawberry blonde hair away from my neck with slow, deliberate movements, the strands spilling in loose waves over my shoulders. The soft pink fabric of my dress clings to my body, stopping mid-thigh, and I can feel it ride up just slightly as I shift nervously against the wall. My green eyes meet yours, wide and glassy behind my smudged lenses, and my lips—***ted in glossy fuchsia—part, trembling as though ready to say something. But no words come.

Your hand wraps around my throat with agonizing slowness, the warmth of your palm igniting a flush across my skin. Your fingers curl tightly, each one pressing into the tender flesh, and I feel your thumb rest directly over my Adam’s apple. The pressure is subtle at first, enough to make me swallow reflexively, the movement forcing my throat to tighten under your unyielding grip. I hear the faint, wet click of my own swallow, loud to my ears in the silence, before it’s followed by a broken, rasping gasp.

The first squeeze draws an involuntary noise from me—a strained, ***d sound that wavers into a sharp whimper. My chest jerks as I struggle to breathe, my body instinctively reacting even as I lean further into the tension. Your thumb presses harder against my Adam’s apple, and my tongue darts out, wetting my lips as I *** again, the sound louder now, rough and guttural. My hands rise to your wrist, trembling as they clutch at your skin—not in protest, but to anchor myself against the overwhelming sensation building in my chest.

The pressure on my throat grows, and I feel every inch of it-the way your thumb presses deeper, shifting slightly to play with the shape of my Adam's apple as my breathing becomes fractured and desperate. My lips part wider, and I make a raw, rasping noise that breaks into a faint gag when you press just a little harder. My tongue flicks uselessly against the air, and my mouth hangs open in a silent plea for relief that doesn't come.

My chest heaves, the sound of my strained breaths filling the space between us. The rasping becomes more desperate, louder, a series of shallow gasps and half-swallowed whimpers that vibrate against your palm. I try to swallow again, but your grip makes it nearly impossible, and the attempt only produces a wet, broken sound that sends a shudder through my entire body. My legs tremble beneath me, the stark click of my heels against the floor as I struggle to hold myself upright echoing faintly in my ears.

You loosen your grip for a moment, letting me suck in a shallow, shaky breath. The air fills my lungs too quickly, making me cough faintly, and I can hear the wheezing rasp in my own voice as I gasp, "More." My lips curl into a faint, teasing smile despite the quiver in my legs, and my green eyes glint with challenge even as they brim with tears.

Your hand tightens again immediately, but this time, you don't stop at holding me in place. Instead, you push me higher, lifting me effortlessly off the ground. My toes leave the floor, and the sensation of weightlessness sends a jolt through me, my body writhing slightly as I struggle for balance. The pressure on my throat intensifies, your grip unrelenting as you press me against the wall. My legs dangle ***ly, heels brushing faintly against the wall behind me, and the sounds escaping me become more fractured and desperate.

I gag again, my tongue slipping out further as I try in vain to find air. My mouth hangs open, and I let out a faint, guttural whine, the sound vibrating low in my throat. The pulse beneath your thumb hammers wildly, a rapid, erratic beat that you can surely feel as your fingers tighten further. My body trembles in your grip, my chest heaving against the strain, and I'm acutely aware of every small movement you make-the subtle shift of your thumb, the way your fingers flex as you hold me there.

My vision starts to blur, the edges going soft and hazy, but I cling to the sensation of your control, the power in your grip, and the overwhelming intensity of the moment. My hands fall limp against your wrist, my body surrendering completely, and the last sound I manage is a faint, broken rasp that trails off into silence. Suspended there, held entirely at your mercy, I know I'm exactly where I belong.