Mr. Rock n’ Roll: Asphyxiation
A small silver globe glinted on his tongue as he turned that irresistible smile my way and gave me a deep throaty, “hi.” Thickened with a heavy New Zealand accent.
I didn’t think he even knew me, much less to be sitting across from me on my terrace starting a conversation.
I had seen him once at one of those BDSM clubs that were held at midnight, bi-weekly at the university that I attended and several times at school. My best friend / roommate had dragged me there, so that I could experience the scene and to add a change in my boring love life.
I had watched him intently that night at my first meeting, because it was great that I could do the watching for once, instead of the other way around. For on those several times at school that I saw him; I didn’t really see him, but caught him watching me – his potent stare never letting up, when I caught him. I would be the one having to break the contact, whether by bumping into objects and persons and hurriedly getting on my way.
He was the son of rock n’ roll. The epitome of fucking sexy!
Decked out in a short sleeved, tight, plain, black t, a close-fitted, washed out, light blue jeans with tears and slashes going up the legs, showing off just enough golden skin to have you wanting to see more. It hung low on his hips. He had on a chain-metal belt with a large skull with black eyes and cross bones as the buckle.
His arms were sleeved; the left arm covered in multicoloured hyper realistic skull tats, meanwhile, the right arm was monotonous in black, tribal tats. Showing his Maori/Samoan heritage meticulously.
The right side of his head was shaved off completely, while the rest of his head was covered by long jet black hair. The black, tribal tats climb up the vacant part of his skull and spread to half of his chiseled face and stopped at the side of his prominent nose, that looked hot on him, full lips and gorgeous almond shaped eyes.
His muscles strained against the fabric of his black t-shirt, exaggerating his toned physique and how fit he was.
He wore black leather boots with silver strapped up buckles, that stopped mid way his shin. Black nail polish, with a lit cigarette held between two broad, elegant fingers, small black skull studded earrings and a dark, gray vest and tie to match. He had a thick, black leather band around his wrist with silver spikes.
My eyes widened and bulged straight out of their sockets, while my breath caught.
What a spectacular sight he was?
Although I wasn’t; in my above the knee, brown, narrow skirt, pink camisole and my brunette hair was cropped short in a pixie cut. Sprawled in a chair listening to music while I read my Cosmo Mag.
It was kind of a shock to have him sitting beside me. I was wondering what he wanted from me.
I finally gathered enough strength to shot him a resound “hi.” Boy did it sound perky, which was completely not me. But I knew it was only the result of how smoking hot he was.
His pitch black eyes examined me for long pregnant minutes, before turning away and puffing lightly on his cigarette taking in my lake-shore view.
And the I love rock n’ roll song dimmed at ‘put another dime in the jute box, baby’ in my ear buds as another familiar song started playing in my head. ‘Hello. Hello. Hello. How Low (x3)’. The Kurt Cobain song was at a steady beat before Kieran began to speak again, where it came to a sudden end and ‘I love rock n’ roll’ commenced again.
I pulled the ear buds out to hear what he strolled all the way over here for…
Suddenly, tossing the last bit of his cig on the ground to out it, he grabbed me by the throat, pulling me to his face, to look him squarely in his eyes and whispered oh so simply, ‘You are going to submit to me. You are going to call me Master. You. Are. Going. To. Be. Mine. And I’ll be here sitting patiently when that day comes.’
I looked at him in shock and horror, meanwhile my body did the opposite. It was most definitely pleased by his words, because delicious muscles clenched south at his extreme demands.
“Fuck you!” Was all I could muster up, struggling desperately to escape his tight grasp around my neck. That obviously did nothing to him, because he only threw his head back and laughed. The languorous sound engulfed me, in its dreamy leisure.
His hand just tightened slightly at my empty efforts to get away. I was scratching at his massive forearm like a cat, swearing incorrigibly.
His actions just pissed me off more. It was not just because he was arrogant and making haughty demands but because it stirred something in me, which frightened me immensely.
After his outburst of laughter he just turned to me and said, “No baby, I’ll be the one fucking you.”
As if I asked him a question!
Sigh… my body betrayed me once again and more southern death grips occurred, as I blushed profusely. The heat coming off my cheeks could start a fire if it was visible. I was so ashamed of myself.
He pulled me closer to him again, my ass on the edge of the chair, while his other hand went straight to my knee, my legs parted, as if answering some silent command. He slid his hand up between my thighs and under my skirt, shifting the thin, black fabric that covered my sex. His fingers gently glided across my sex and two huge fingers pushed their way into my moisten passage.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
I immediately sunk my fingers into his forearm taken aback by his blatant actions and aroused even more by the two fingers smoothly massaging and twisting inside of me.
My breathing became ragged and my eyes glazed over. I moaned loudly.
He could obviously see that I was enjoying it from his reaction and the visible bulge barely moving in the front of his jeans.
He bit his bottom lip in that sensual kind of way and all I could think of was how I wanted to bite that lip, hard, until it bled.
I relaxed in his grip, that was still around my neck and began to close my eyes savoring the feeling building inside of me.
Up until his fingers stopped abruptly and a cold chill ran up my skirt, where his hand went missing.
My eyes flew open in dismay, to meet a smug stare leveled at me, but the sight that greeted me was disturbing and poignant.
His fingers that were inside of me went directly inside of his beautiful mouth and I watched him suck at his fingers, which triggered his eyes to close.
Again he shocked me. I was frozen.
He released me, however, not before pulling my head roughly to his now wet lips and placing a chaste kiss upon my forehead, then whispering, ‘Get it. You belong to me.’
I tried wrenching away, but he gripped the back of my neck firmly and continued with, “There’s no use fighting it, baby… I’ll be waiting.”
With that he ran a hand through his long hair and strode away, stuffing a familiar thin, black material into his pocket.
I watched dumb-struck and half fucked.
– Bloody I.V.