Susan Strict
An extract from the Femdom novel "Only Her Plaything" by Susan Strct.

She eased herself forward and slid the nightdress over his face before moving right up against him.  Her bare thighs were on either side of his head, squeezing and pressing him down.  He tried to raise his head to kiss her right between her legs, but found himself unable to move.

"Kiss me," she commanded, her voice muffled as the soft flesh of her thighs covered his ears.

He tried.  He put out his tongue and tried to reach her.  The very tip of it touched her, but no more than that.  She must have felt the slight touch, because a shiver went through her.  He strained to make more contact with her, but it was impossible.

"I can't," he said.  "I can't reach."

A tiny sound of frustration came from her.  She lifted from him a fraction, and then descended gently onto his face.  He kissed the flesh that pressed between his lips and pushed his tongue into her before he realised she was covering his nose too.  He could not breathe at all.

He tried to tell her she was suffocating him.  His voice, now, was muffled, and his urgent message failed to reach her.  All she felt was the movement of his mouth underneath her.  She wriggled, squeezing her thighs together and enjoying the pleasurable sensations.

For nearly a whole minute she did not move her position at all, the muscles in her thighs flexing and gripping.  He strained to move from under her, desperately trying to twist his head in any direction to find the smallest space with some air to satisfy his screaming lungs.  The more he moved, the harder she pressed on him and the more difficult it was to make any movement at all.  She was not a large girl, and could not by any stretch of the imagination be described as heavy, and yet with his arms and legs restrained there was nothing he could do to move her even a fraction.

He could have bitten at the flesh that pressed into his mouth.  Without a doubt that would have moved her, and without a doubt she would have been furious.  For some reason it did not even occur to him at the time to do that.  Perhaps, if she had not moved before he started to lapse into unconsciousness some instinct would have taken over and his teeth would have given her the signals his voice could not.  Or perhaps when he stopped moving she would have known what was happening and would have given him the air he so badly needed.  All he knew in those moments when he was convinced she would suffocate him totally was that her pleasure was uppermost in her mind and not likely to be overturned by the mere knowledge that he was unable to breathe for a while.

He drove his tongue as far into her as he could, hoping the feeling it might give her would be enough to move her.  He pressed it up against her flesh and withdrew it slowly and steadily, feeling the unevenness of that part of the inside of her body.  He heard her muffled squeal and he did it again, and again.

She lifted from him a little, and immediately pressed down once more.  It was so quick and so unexpected that he did not take the breath he needed.  She lifted again, and this time he was ready to snatch a little of the air his lungs demanded.  When she began a rhythmical up and down motion, pushing his head down into her soft bed and using its springiness to help take her up and nearly off his face completely, he took advantage of those brief gaps in being smothered totally to breathe the air that was becoming damper and more humid by the second.

He would not have believed that any woman, let alone this small, young woman, could have kept up that movement for so long.  To him, underneath, feeling crushed, still half suffocated and now bruised by the force with which she pressed him down over and over again, it seemed like hours.  It felt impossible that anyone could have such energy to continue with such unflagging enthusiasm; yet continue she did and with steadily increasing force onto his upturned face.

He was sure that it could go on no longer; that she must tire soon.  He was only partly right.  Sure enough she did eventually stop bouncing on him, and immediately she started to push herself backward and forward on his face without breaking contact with him at all as she moved.  Although he still managed to grab an occasional breath of air as she moved one way or the other, her movement was more erratic and not allowing him to anticipate her rhythm.

This, too, went on for what seemed to him to be forever, in one impossibly long sustained burst of energy.  His whole face was wet and slippery. 

Finally it stopped.  She squealed, and broke contact with him completely.  He took breath after breath of cool air as her squealing went on and on, and then suddenly she descended onto him covering his mouth, his nose right inside her and her body shuddering and shaking.

Her thighs crushed together on the sides of his face.  Her muscles contracted, squeezing him painfully.  His nostrils were pressed together, closed.  Her whole body shook, and fluids came from her in what felt to him like a flood that filled his mouth and ran into his eyes half blinding him.  It was no rapid climax.  It went on and on, her body continuing to shudder and squeeze, her squealing turning to gasps and moans; his nose crushed and feeling as though it would break at any moment; his breathing blocked completely.  He was very close to passing out when finally she did raise herself from him, her contracting muscles tugging convulsively at his nose as if trying to take it with her, and she sat back onto his chest breathing heavily.

It was only moments later as he lay stunned and silent that she spoke.

"Did you say you wanted to go to the bathroom?" she said as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Yes, please," he murmured.

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