I take great care with all of My subs, sl*ves and sundry projects. Today I have My boy strapped down, suitably naked - such a contrast to My freedom and lingerie! My sl*ve is exposed, vulnerable and, much though he tries to appear comforted, I feel the sub's pulse pounding in surrendered anticipation of My further control.

I tease My sl*ve, sliding my fingers up his throat whereupon I apply a l*ttle pressure. My sl*ve's heart pounds faster as I squeeze air from the sub, before I seal off his mouth and pinch his nose shut. Now that I have acquainted My sl*ve with the powerlessness of his position I continue to demonstrate and use My authority.

I allow the sub to breathe, before taking his breath away once more, advising him to “focus” on not panting as his eyes close and the sl*ve becomes placid. In a trice I release My hold and My boy gasps for air before My palms reassert themselves and My manicured, red nails pinch shut the airways that My boy depends upon. I squeeze his face, closing off all relief and I smile into My sl*ve's gaze...now he focuses upon Me as I laugh at him.

I increase My sl*ve's unease by starving his airways for longer and he burbles under My care. This time a smile crosses the sub's troubled lips as I allow him back once more. I adjust My hold and take him under once more “..a game for Me anyway...a game of denial!” My sub has no choice but to work to My rhythm, breathing greedily when I permit it and absorbing the denial that I inflict.

Such a good boy, fighting the urge to breathe while a superior being develops his trust and Her Female Domination. My boy obeys Me and does not panic, despite Me preventing his breathing except when I want him to. I extend the denial to My boy's hard c*ck; teasing, stroking his weakness as he shows considerable excitement. With one finger and thumb I hold his nose tightly shut whilst another finger and thumb stroke My boy into blissful denial.

Now My boy does breathe, raggedly, urgently, his gasps of desperation suck air into his fevered body. As he begins to moan, I ch*ke off the noise, slapping My hand across his mouth whilst continuing to stimulate his c*ck. I encourage My sl*ve further, having him shake with desperation as his stifled cries become high-pitched and shrill. As he tries to recover I step up the pace “...and again...” as I grope his c*ck and manipulate it.

As My boy becomes louder I laugh and have My sl*ve admit that he is “...really desperate, Miss!” I always get My way and I continue, My boy trying to thrust into My grip, unsuccessfully - I control him utterly. I return to controlling his breathing, whispering into the sl*ve's ear...My fingers are his life now and My intentions are his obedient future. The more I arouse My sl*ve, the more oxygen his body thinks that it needs - only I control that supply too!

My sl*ve is denied but granted the privilege of breathing. As I observed “...denial is delicious...” and My kindness in providing copious amounts of denial is respected and beloved by My sl*ve, just as it should be.

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