Category: BDSM Stories

The Airlock Scene

by WFEATHER©

It would be the most terrifying thing she had ever done, and I was incredibly proud of her for having agreed to try this. That spoke great volumes for her trust in Me.

What years ago had begun as something to pass the time between systems had evolved into a full-time official Master/slave relationship. Already, there was a hierarchy - I was the Captain and she was the subordinate on the small cargo craft, and only rarely would there be anyone else aboard - so perhaps the Master/slave relationship was a natural progression.

Across the years, I had become more devious in My plans for her. My heart had turned dark - still filled with love for her, but also desiring more and more to see her suffering for Me. That suffering could be physical or psychological - or, ideally, both - but something in Me simply longed to witness her suffering by almost any means possible.

Asphyxia was indeed a part of that. I cannot say that she truly thoroughly enjoys it, but she definitely tolerates it because she knows that I enjoy making her suffer, whatever form that suffering may take. When I choke her or strangle her, the wide-open eyes provide a great window into her distressed mind, and I can almost peer into her anguishing lungs. The raspy sounds passing between her parted lips provide an aural verification of her plight, and if I kiss her during such moments, I can feel the scant nature of her shallow breaths. As her face reddens, it makes her consensual torment all the more enjoyable for Me.

But I must admit that when the idea came to Me, I hesitated for a long, long time before I finally broached the subject with her, for I honestly did not expect that she would agree. Perhaps she knew that this would happen eventually, that My twisted mind would concoct this specific scenario.

"It's time," I said flatly, and she knew exactly what I meant. With a solemn nod, she rose from the chair and began to undress, removing everything save for the thin fused ring of titanium encircling her dainty neck, for this time, there would be no compression of her throat.

I lingered for a moment, watching as she began to bare her body once again, before I left her to gather the required supplies. A few minutes later, I approached the airlock and she was already there, already inside, kneeling, her head downcast and her wrists crossed behind her per her extensive training. I saw her in profile, which further emphasized her deep breaths as she tried to calm and steady herself for this experience.

Leaving everything except the old-fashioned rope outside the airlock, I approached her. This was quite familiar to her, and very much welcome, for she yearned to be restrained in any manner My strange mind could concoct. I took My time, allowing her to revel in the purposely-slow process of securing her ankles together, restraining her legs together, lashing her forearms together behind her, binding her upper arms to the sides of her torso while placing the ropes strategically to visually emphasize her chest and heighten the sensitivity of her breasts.

Kneeling behind her, I fondled My slave and partner and colleague and best friend. My lips kept pressing against her cheeks. My fingers kept pinching her nipples. My fingernails kept grazing the base of her breasts.

My teeth kept nibbling on either side of her vulnerable neck.

When she was equally aroused and nervous, I gave her a final kiss to the top of her hairless scalp and rose to My knees. It was time.

Exiting the airlock, I took My time in changing clothes and donning the breather mask. When she saw Me again, I was clad entirely in black, the form-fitting outfit one she had not seen previously. I know that she had never seen the breather, for she visibly cringed at seeing the massive black mask with the bulbous black eyeshields and the trio of large breathing ports with the multiple layers of black filters. she likely noticed the black straps around My shoulders and My upper chest, but she could not see the small oxygen tank they supported at My upper back.

I kept My steps slow and loud, purposely adding to her nervousness and her growing fear. Within the massive mask, I sneered, My ego quite proud of her attempts to shy away despite her tight bondage. Only if she was the best contortionist in the universe could she possibly have had even a glimmer of a chance at freeing herself under normal circumstances, but with the dread and the fear seizing her throat and already clearly making it difficult for her to breathe, she would only gain her freedom when I released her at last.

Entering a combination in the keypad on the inside of the airlock caused the inner door to close and seal, the sound almost having a quality of finality. The outer door was still closed and sealed, as it had been for nearly a full week since the departure from Kuptera Station. The pair of small windows provided a nice view of the stars unknown light-years distant as they speckled the ever-present blackness of deep space.

I wondered how my breathing sounded to her. To My own ears, it sounded eerie. The tiny microphones inside the mask would be constantly relaying every sound I made - every utterance, every slight breath - with enough of a distortion that just the instinctive act of breathing would likely sound alien and perhaps even grotesque to her. That may be exactly what she thought of My breathing, as she kept shying away as best as she could - which was barely at all - even though I remained at the keypad.

Another combination was entered, and a soft warning beep sounded in the airlock before the lighting changed from traditional white to unmistakable orange. The oxygen level was being slowly filtered out of the airlock.

I entered one final key combination, then turned toward My tightly-bound, tightly-wound slave. she whimpered, her eyes wavering just before a tear began to trek down her right cheek. The sadist in Me absolutely loved it, and she was not yet suffering physically. Only then did I allow My arousal to enter My mindset, even though having her naked and bound had already caused a prominent stirring.

"I won't hurt you physically," I reassured her, My voice inherently twisted. "Not this time."

she nodded her understanding, yet more tears began to descend her face, and her lower lip trembled visibly.

With each slow, deliberate, loud step I made in her direction, she tried to shy away a little more. she never did get very far because of how she was so securely bound, and when I finally knelt behind her and wrapped My covered arms around her bare body, she finally began to weep openly, shamelessly shaking in My grasp, her fingertips stroking the semi-hardened material encasing Me.

her breathing changed slowly, her breaths becoming shorter and raspier. It was soon clear that there was not enough oxygen in the airlock, yet My ability to properly breathe was unaffected. I simply held her, occasionally massaging a breast as her weeping ended so that she could more fully concentrate on simply trying to breathe, on trying to draw in the lessening number of oxygen molecules which would sustain her.

My erection was quite hard. her naked body against Me, her tight constriction, her mental plight, her near-total inability to do something so basic and instinctive and necessary as breathe all conspired to arouse Me. If I could have done so safely, I would have bound her in a different position so that I could take My pleasure from her in her period of great distress.

Instead, I could only taunt her, My regular breathing almost certainly sounding alien and grotesque with My mask pressed against the side of her face. I made little comments, soft observations, making her hear what she was already experiencing.

The lighting in the airlock changed from unmistakable orange to dangerous red. A new warning beep sounded, followed by a recurring klaxon which, judging by how she lurched in My arms and finally began to struggle in her tight restraints, truly scared her more than I had expected.

My dark heart consumed what was without question the most terrifying fifteen seconds of her life.

The klaxon abruptly ceased, although I could still "hear" its echoes between My ears. The lighting returned to unmistakable orange, yet she was still struggling, the old-fashioned ropes certainly biting into her heaving chest. Even once the lighting had returned to traditional white, she still fought - with renewed tears and sobs.

Even long after I had released her from her bondage, I cuddled her on the floor of the airlock, still wearing the breather mask. Rarely did she open her eyes, and when she did, she saw the mask and clamped her eyes shut again, shaking anew in My grasp even though she was finally able to breathe normally again.

It was several weeks before we engaged in any asphyxia again, on the more "mundane" level of simply choking her as I took My pleasure from her restrained body. But to her credit, she was the one who, four months later, asked to do "the airlock scene" again, so that she could more fully enjoy it knowing that she had survived it once and would survive it again in My dutiful care.

Written by: WFEATHER

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Story Tags: master, slave, breath play, asphyxia, sci-fi, space, bondage, mask

Category: BDSM Stories