We were mutual friends of a friend, would see each other every now and then when we ran into each other at this friends house. I can’t speak for her, but I felt the spark the first second I met her. I did and said nothing that would make it awkward for us all and left it at that.

Months go by and I drop in to this friends house unannounced and find her there alone. He had gone up to the shops and would be back shortly, I couldn’t wait so I turned to leave, telling her to let him know I stopped by. I got a few steps and I couldn’t help myself, I stopped at the door and walked back to her on the couch.

I leaned down and slid my hand up her shoulder and around her throat. I squeezed hard enough to stop her breath and leaned in, slowly kissing her on the lips. I told her I’ve wanted to do that for so long and now I have. If she wanted to discuss it further to message me, otherwise we’ll pretend it never happened. I let go of her throat and left. Sure enough, a message from her a few minutes later and that’s how it started.

We messaged back and forth and learned a lot of things about each other. She was submissively shy and I loved devouring every morsel of truth that she had never really told anyone before. I knew how to get her to open up and I knew when she was lying. I called her out on every lie or omission and peeled back her explanations until I got the truth, no matter how embarrassing or erotic.

We would meet at her place, she shared a duplex with friends and her bottom floor bedroom was accessible from the back yard, reached through a side gate. The sex went from hot vanilla to mind blowing kinky within one session and we both opened up about boundaries and desires. I would make hers come true and she’d do the same. We realised we’re both well entrenched in the dark side of sex.

I won’t bore you with the details of the semi-vanilla. She loved being woken up with a hand over the mouth and a hard cock sliding into her.
I loved my hand around her throat and a fistful of her hair as I choked the submission into her.
She loved the multiple orgasms she’d get from climbing on top and grinding while she was collared and leashed. I loved the way my words sounded repeated back to me in her moaning, submissive voice, her begging me to cum (or not cum, depending on the scenario) in her as I bred her almost every session. She loved as I spat in her mouth. I loved slapping her until my hand prints covered her whole body.

I will bore you with the details of the two things that stand out for me. The first being her willingness to trust me enough to take her breath away.

I would start gentle and short, hand around the throat in whatever position we were in, squeezing hard enough to stop the air for a while until she tapped me and I let go. I always let go, and she knew that. Knowing that, she would be happy to push the boundaries and I was happy to find out where they ended. Longer and longer, she would either ride my cock with her lungs slowly starving of air, or be tied up beneath me with both hands choking her harder and harder with each pounding stroke. She was given a tiny bell wrapped around her finger that she would flick to let me know I needed to stop, as she was often tied and/or gagged. She knew what I wanted and she knew she could trust me to keep her safe, so it didn’t take long until the boundary we were looking for dissolved completely.

I would choke her for as long as I liked until she passed out. She was still given the bell to flick or the option to tap me to stop, but her submission involved me deciding whether I stopped when she tapped, or whether she would see stars, and drift unconscious as I slid in and out of her.

As soon as she was out I would release the pressure. I would often swap positions and roughly pound her until she came to, or go down and gently lick her lips and suck her clit until I felt the jerk of her body when she came to and her squeal when she realised her pussy was being eaten while she ‘slept’.

Starving the brain of oxygen is not something you can do as many times as you want in a session, so we were careful not to over-do it. Although several times she had to politely suggest a break as I lost myself in her and got carried away. We would alternate between breath play and simply putting her unconscious in my arms as I wrapped her up tight.

I would be fucking her from behind, laying side by side on the bed, my arm wrapped around her throat, my cock sliding into her from behind and my hand on her clit. I would gently place her into a choke hold and slowly squeeze the sides of her neck with each stroke. Within 10-15 seconds the blood was no longer reaching that incredibly beautiful brain and she was out. Again I would often swap positions and roughly pound her until she came to, disorientated and scared, until she realised where she was and remembered what was happening and again, her body shook with the biggest orgasms I would ever feel from her.

She had a kink about being sexually used while she was asleep/unconscious and I had a kink about choking and destroying a subs boundaries through pure domination . It was a perfect dynamic.

The second thing that stands out for me, is her dark desire for role play that entails her lack of choice in the matter. Also known as CNC (Consensual Non-Consent) or rape play, and it’s a tricky scenario to make come true for a woman. At least to the more extreme levels anyway.

She explained exactly what she wanted in detail and I was more than happy to fulfil it, as it was one of my dark desires as well. I outlined the rules, she added her thoughts, we both screenshotted the conversation and made sure each of us had recorded proof of us consenting in full, no legal grey areas. She would have no information or warning about the session other than the activities and level of violence she wanted to experience. She wished to be completely surprised and completely dominated in the most extreme sense of the word.

Several weeks and a couple of sessions later with nothing too extreme involved, I decided on a day and time and without telling her (obviously) made my way to her place. It was early morning, around 5am but the sun was coming up and there was light. I parked down the street and walked to her duplex, down the side gate and into the back yard. I chose to have the experience at her place as opposed to a public place, as it was less likely someone would stumble across us and complicate things. And a kidnapping with a vehicle would require further planning so I would keep that for the next step.

I knew she locked her screen door and left her sliding door open, but she locked the screen door with the latch and not the key. I was wearing all black, hoodie and jeans, and pulled out a black balaclava and put it over my head. I had brought with me a crappy steak knife that I wouldn’t miss from my kitchen and took it out as well, slicing the fly screen mesh next to her screen door latch. I slid my finger through the small hole I cut and flicked the latch, slowly sliding open the screen door.

She was asleep, the room had enough light to see and I could see her on the bed. I gently climbed onto the bed and sat on top of her, my knees either side of her torso and she started to stir. Without saying a word, I clamped my hand over her mouth and shushed her as she groggily opened her eyes and saw the knife inches from her face, before her eyes shot wide with terror and she squirmed beneath me. I told her to be quiet or I’d hurt her, our agreed upon phrase that would a)let the other person know who it was, and b)begin the CNC session (and the rules and boundaries came into effect).

It took a second but I saw her mind click and felt her body sink with relief. I whispered to her the things she told me she imagined her attacker saying. I threw in some of my own. I used the steak knife to cut her black singlet top she was sleeping in, straight up the middle from her stomach to her chest. Then I dragged the tip of the knife back down her skin, leaving a red line that stayed for a day or two afterwards. I ripped the singlet from her body and tied her hands, I cut the sides of her panties and pulled them through her thighs and shoved them into her mouth.

The session went on for around two hours. I made sure to tick all the boxes of what she wanted in regards to the phrases that would be said and specific abuses she would suffer. After hours of choking, slapping, humiliation, and being thrown around and used, I whispered the phrase that signified the end of the session, which triggered her to say the final phrases that she would say. I was on top of her with her hands tied above her head, one hand holding her hands down and one hand around her throat, her legs spread and her sopping wet pussy being violently pounded. She started crying and begged me to stop (as she had been doing at the start of the session before submitting to ‘save her life’), pleading with me to leave. I growled at her to shut up and that I was going to cum, she shrieked and squealed, pleaded and begged and struggled as hard as she could, begging me not to cum inside her. She got slapped across the face and bred. Held down with heavy force as I grunted with each spurt.

A minute or two to catch our breath and we both smiled at each other and broke character. Definitely one of the most intense sexual experiences of my life.

This relationship happened over the course of about two years, spending more time together in some months than others. I tried to avoid discussing feelings we might have for each other, because I was in a relationship that I was never going to leave. But I found myself falling further and further in love with her as time went on. What started as friendship, then turned into amazing and incredible sex, then mutated into a deep need and a painful truth that I’d never be able to be with her the way I should be.

I told her I loved her one day as she sat on top of me, slowly grinding my cock back and forth inside her. I had tried to say it the session before but had lost the nerve. I was a week or two away from leaving on a three year trip that would obviously end our relationship. I had to tell her before I left, so I did.

So now it’s about six years later and we don’t talk or see each other anymore. I think it’s just easier for both of us. I can’t stand the thought of making her life complicated and being something negative in her life, rather than something positive. I literally think about her every day, and if she reads this hopefully she knows I’ll love her till the day I die.

I know it’s going to be almost impossible to find someone like her but there’s no harm (and plenty of fun) in trying.

Hope you enjoyed, feel free to get in touch if you like, and good girls are always, submissively shy…