I lie in a foetal position on my bed. It is the middle of the afternoon, my head cupped in my hands, eyes closed. Images of the last few days sweep over my mind and I succumb to the numbness after the events. The darkness encircles me. I can feel the emptiness taking hold of my lungs, creeping up my throat until I want to abandon myself to it entirely. To suffocate.
And then that briefest of flashes to his tightened grip around my throat, the pounding of his cock into my pussy and the rising excitement, almost elation at the thought of dying there and then. Of letting his fingers press against my jugular notch, watching the room turn from shadowy outlines to complete blackness. Letting someone else take that decision for me. To live or to die.
But of course his fingers didn’t tighten enough, they flirted briefly with an idea of male dominance. I felt the pressure and in that instant desired it. Like now, lying on my bed in the middle of the afternoon, I desire him, his beautiful body, to feel the firmness of his grip as he throws me onto my stomach and plunges his cock into my pussy and fingers my ass. I crave abandon. I desire the darkness.