I Bend Over The Kitchen Counter.

Some glitch has left the digital display on the microwave permanently dimmed, so the only way to read it is to get up close. We're getting ready to make dinner. He's standing behind me, looking at the contents of the cupboard.

Suddenly, the world turns white. A plastic shopping bag crinkles loudly around my head. My shorts and panties slide down my thighs, I step out of one side, leaving the other side to pool around my foot. His feet nudge my legs outward. I spread for him. My shirt lifts over my tits, he squeezes them hard after he exposes them.

I grip the edge of the counter, my balance is unsteady.The bag tightens around my neck and I can feel him waiting to see what I'll do next. Of course, my survival instinct tells me to panic, to flail and rip this thing away. I fight it. I breathe in, the plastic sucks in, plastered tight against my mouth and nose. My cunt twinges.

He pats my ass gently to show he approves, then loosens the bag before I really panic. I draw big gulps of air and wonder how I'm going to prevent myself from coming immediately.

Something hits my ass with a loud thwack. It's not his hand, it feels plastic. It's not the little whip, it's like a small paddle. He spanks me again, and I realize it's a spatula. Improvisation. Nice. Again the bag tightens around my neck and his blows fall stronger. I love being at his absolute mercy.

Time stops. I know it's really only a measure of seconds, but it feels like years.There is nothing but this white world and the precious little air left in it; nothing except the rhythm and red blossoms of heat when he strikes me.

Again, the bag releases.

He slides his cock into me, throwing me off balance. I teeter, then right myself. He pushes down on the small of my back, a signal that I'm up too high. I spread my legs out further, and he rewards me by slamming his cock deep inside me.

This time he covers my nose and my mouth with his hand over the bag. He pinches my nose shut. The desire to fight back is nearly overwhelming, instead I channel all my energy into fucking him, showing him he can't best me.

I grind against his cock, forcing him deeper. His hand, huge and firm across my face, doesn't budge. Everything seems once removed, the barrier of thin plastic separates worlds. He releases his hand, fucking me harder. The bag is loose over my head, he leaves it there.

When he restricts my breath, all I want is to breathe. When he releases me, all I want is for him to deny me breath again. He reaches around me, pinches my nipples, squeezes my breasts. He slaps my ass, does everything but tighten the bag again. Soon, I'm desperate for it. I try holding my own breath as he fucks me, but it's not the same. Why won't he do it again?

I slam back into him. I want it. "Choke me, dammit," I think to myself. I try to convey my need without crying out for it, but he seems to not know it.

Without warning, he slides a finger into my ass, sending me into a frenzy. Finally, thankfully, he tightens the bag around my neck again, sending me into my little prison. I feel a second finger jam into my asshole, it feels so huge that it might as well be a second cock.

The bag puckers around my face and releases with each breath. He tightens it more around my neck.

He is not gentle, and I like it that way.

Everything rises all at once. The tight, sweet feeling in my pussy, the lightheadedness, both the danger and the ridiculousness of the situation. I want more, but suddenly I want out. Instinctively, my foot raises and taps his ankle, the pre-arraigned signal for "I need to breathe right fucking now."

The bag pulls away from my face, the air rushes in and I come hard. He slams into me a final time, then his body relaxes against mine for a moment. He pulls out, helps me to stand up. I lean against him since I can't quite steady myself.

"Was that okay?" he asks, brushing the sweat dampened hair away from my face. I look into his eyes and smile. He already knows the answer.

em>Republished with permission from Daisy Danger. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo courtesy of The Training of O.