domination: prequel
I think I will always remember the first time someone grabbed my throat while we were in bed. I don’t remember too terribly much else about that night. I was a teenager. I was probably drunk. I was madly infatuated with the man I was in bed with. At one point, I reached up to touch his face. He grabbed my hand, and then pinned both my wrists down on the pillow…
…and my heart skipped a beat. My whole nervous system suddenly charged, like a live wire. Did you ask me if I liked that? I don’t remember. But if you asked, surely I said yes.
My legs locked around your hips. Your hands locked around my wrists. I was lost, completely. And then you released one of my hands, but before I knew whether to reach out to you, or keep still, your hand was at my throat.
If my nerves were a live wire already, that was a lightning strike.
Suddenly nothing existed but the flesh beneath your hand and beneath your hips. The universe, reduced to a few square inches of my skin. A zen master could not attain such obliteration of self. I was not lost. I was found.
I thought I would come like that. The heel of your hand weighing heavy against my collarbone. Your fingers reaching around my neck. The web of your thumb pressing against my throat. My breathing in gasps out of excitement as much as need. But then your hand moved again.
And I didn’t feel anything but your fingernails digging into my skin, and dragging down my chest. It wasn’t pain. It was raw, overwhelming sensation. It was everything in the world for that breathless moment. It was release, and focus and the most engulfing thrill I’d ever felt.
I don’t even remember if I had an orgasm. I don’t care.
For a week afterward, I had scratch marks down my sternum. Every time I caught sight of them in the bathroom mirror, or while I was getting dressed, or even thought about it, I was instantly weak-kneed and completely turned on.
Is it any wonder that even still today, if someone wraps their hand around my throat…
*FZZZT*
::melt::
God.
How could he have known?
