Broken

This time you've done it.

This time you've gone further than you thought you would or could. I let you put me in a bind, and you took advantage of it. Of me. You waited until I had no way to resist, and you took my breath away.

Literally.

Gagged me with the first thing you could find in your haste--a dirty dishrag--covered it up in duct tape, held a handkerchief over my nose until every breath of air was a struggle. Barely staying above ground. Over and over again, until I was fatigued just from the hope of taking an unrestricted gasp of air. It never came.

You did. I heard you growl out your orgasm when I nodded my head from the dizziness, and you took that handkerchief away for an instant. Then it was back, saturated from your juices. And I had to smell that while working so hard to breathe. Afraid of passing out, because I've never done it before. I couldn't believe you could be so cruel as to keep it up after you came. But you are very good at surprising me.

And that's just it--how can you find that one thing that I hate so much, but I need it--from you. Taking advantage of my addiction to your control. Air, sex, you: all things forever just out of my reach. And when it's all over, you snicker at me, watching me shudder from your terrible caress.

I hate you. I need you. I love you madly. Don't let me go.