"Yes," she said, "I really can't understand why men would want to pay for that."

"Well," he explained, "Most men quite like the idea of being dominated sexually and large women can be quite exciting, but there are limits! It really doesn't take a very large woman to sit on a man..."

"Hmmm." She was thoughtful. "But if she wasn't big then he'd just push her off."

"Not if she tied him to the bed first."

He saw her flush as he said it. She turned her face away from him.

"So you'd like to be a dominatrix then?" he laughed.

"No." It was a quiet 'no". A 'no' that seemed to say 'yes'.

"Don't you?"

"If I had a man tied up," her words came out in a rush, "He wouldn't like it. He wouldn't like it at all."

"Wouldn't he? Why not?"

She looked straight at him, silent for a moment. At last she spoke. "You'd want me to tie you up then?"

"Sounds exciting." He laughed, but his laugh tailed away as he looked at her expression. Her face was completely serious, but there was something in her eyes he had never seen before.

"I'd suffocate you if I sat on you."

"You're not that big."

"You wouldn't like it."

"I'd take that chance."

"I'd do more than just sit on you. I'd hurt you."

"If you want," he spoke slowly and deliberately, "To be a dominatrix, then I would find it very exciting if you did it to me."

They stared at each other, neither of them really able to believe they were considering doing this.

"Wait," she said, "Stay there."

She went into the bedroom. He stayed where he was, sitting on her sofa and unable to see what she was doing. She returned after about five minutes with something in her hands.

"Right," she said, "Ready?"

"What?" Then he realised she was carrying a small whip. She pointed it at him.

"You can start," she said, "By taking off your shirt. If, that is, you're quite sure you want me to dominate you."

She moved closer to him and stood looking down at him, the whip in her hands.

He undid two buttons on his shirt and then looked up at her.

"Look," he said, "I'm not sure........"

She raised the whip and brought it down savagely across his shoulders.

"You'll do what you're told now that you've started. Now get that shirt off."

"Hey!"

"You do want to be dominated, don't you? Well get that shirt off."

He finished taking his shirt off.

"On your feet," she ordered, "Get into the bedroom."

She followed him. He stopped in front of her big bed and turned round to her.

"Well?" she asked, "Get the rest of your clothes off."

"No," he stammered, "I really don't want....."

"OK," she nodded, "Just lie on the bed, on your back."

He did, and before he could change his mind she fastened loops of cord around his wrists and pulled them tight. The other ends of the cord were firmly attached to the top corners of the bed, and she quickly tightened these so that his arms were pulled upwards and out towards the edges of the bed.

"Now," she said, "As I'm in charge and there's nothing you can do to stop me, I think we'll have the rest of your clothes off whether you like it or not."

He protested as she undid his belt and unzipped his trousers but she ignored him, pulling his trousers and pants right down and off.

"Well," she said looking at him, "It looks to me as though you ARE enjoying this."

Whatever he muttered she ignored it. She grasped one of his ankles and pulled his leg towards the bottom corner of the bed, looping cord over it and fastening it securely. She repeated this with his other ankle, and stood next to the bed looking down at him now spread-eagled and completely helpless.

"I think," she said thoughtfully, "I could really, really enjoy being a dominatrix."

He stretched uncomfortably at the cords holding him as if testing how securely they were fixed, and even more uncomfortably aware of his nakedness and vulnerability.

"OK," he said, "So you'd enjoy being a dominatrix. Now untie me."

"What?" she sounded startled, "Untie you? Don't be daft. I haven't even started, and I did tell you that you wouldn't like it. So you just lie back and enjoy what you can enjoy, because before I've finished I'm quite sure you're going to be begging me to stop and to let you go!"

She got up on the bed, swung one leg over him and sat on his chest. He had not realised until that moment that despite her small size she really was quite heavy and solid. Also, he realised as he looked at her, she had particularly wide hips for her size and ample broad thighs. If she did actually sit on his face then he really might be in serious trouble.

She moved herself up his chest towards his face, tucking in her loose trousers to pull them tight over her thighs and between her legs. She looked down at him, and at herself.

"You're right," she said, "It really doesn't take a very large woman to sit on a man!"

Her knees here now either side of his head, and she brought them together as she moved forward so that her thighs touched his face. He did not really know what prompted him to say it, but: "Dominatrices usually wear fewer clothes."

She paused. "We might try that later," she said and moved herself right over him, pressing down over his mouth and squeezing his nose up against her. She pressed her thighs together, gripping him firmly.

Caught by surprise at the suddenness of her movement he had not had the time to take a breath, and now he found he could hardly breathe at all.

"Hey!" came his muffled voice from underneath her, "I.........."

"Shut up," she said firmly, adjusting her position and pressing down harder on him. What little air he had been able to suck in was now cut off completely. He wriggled frantically trying to move himself enough to get a little air, but the cords around his wrists and ankles and her weight on top of him held him firmly in place.

After a short while she lifted herself from him slightly, hearing his sharp intake of breath as he sucked at the welcome fresh air.

"I can see," she said, "Just why doing the dominatrix thing does appeal to women. It's really quite exciting to have a man completely subdued, and to be able to control even his breathing."

He was panting frantically, unable to speak for the moment. Before he had time to control his panting enough to get a word out, she lowered herself onto him again, this time bringing her thighs together to cover his face and cutting off both his vision and his breathing totally.

He struggled again, although he realised it was completely futile and there was absolutely nothing he could do. She held her position on top of him, pressing down and getting herself comfortable. It really was, she thought, quite exciting not only to be in total control of him like this but also to feel the physical sensations of pressing herself onto his face.

She stayed there for over a minute, enjoying the feeling of power.

Then she wanted more than that.

She raised herself from him and climbed off the bed, standing looking at him as he struggled to control his frantic breathing and to focus his eyes.

"You were right," she said. "That's twice you've been right. A dominatrix should wear fewer clothes."

He was not taking in what she was saying. He did not even notice that she was taking off her blouse and her trousers. He had no idea, until she once again was sitting astride his chest, that she now wore only her silvery knickers and bra.

"What?!" He felt the silky sensation of the front of her knickers pressing against his face, and then the now-familiar feeling of drowning in a sea of fabric-covered flesh, only this time it was softer, deeper, more intense and seeming to suck him into its depths. The warmth of her naked thighs enveloped him, squeezing and covering as if threatening to crush him, yet yielding and moulding themselves round the sides of his face and over him.

"Not again......." he started to say, but she was firmly over his mouth and nose, and adjusting her position so that her body confined his face to the almost airless domain beneath her.

Once again she held her position, feeling him struggling for air and knowing that although just a whisper of breath might be getting through there was nowhere near enough for him to breathe comfortably or even for him to survive many minutes without losing consciousness. For a full two minutes she did not move, but the sensations going through her from having his face pressed against her through her flimsy knickers were producing waves of excitement that made her muscles twitch and pulse against him in a way that was making it very difficult for her to sit still on him.

At last she raised herself from him, hardly listening this time to his noisy intake of breath and gasps as he tried to recover. She was uncomfortably aware of how wet her knickers were, wondering absently whether the wetness was his saliva as he had struggled to breathe or whether it came from herself.

She knew what she wanted. Rapidly she removed the wet knickers and plonked herself straight back down onto his mouth. He grunted in surprise as her nakedness pressed on him, and almost without conscious effort he opened his mouth as if to welcome and taste her. She squirmed as his tongue and lips enjoyed her, pressing down onto him but not smothering him with the intensity of a few minutes ago. Shivers of pleasure went through her as she moved herself around to feel him on her just where she wanted him, and he responded with his tongue licking, tasting, burrowing round and inside her frantically.

For almost twenty minutes she rode his mouth, with gasps of pleasure as her body shook and juddered in total selfish enjoyment. It was as if she was pleasuring herself, but so much more intense and exciting than anything she could have done alone.

She might, perhaps, have continued for many hours and left him sore and exhausted, but now she realised that he was no longer making the effort with his lips and tongue on her. 'Domination,' she thought suddenly, 'I'm not dominating him properly!'

She raised herself, spreading her thighs wide and adjusting her position forward a little. Slowly she came down onto him, moulding herself onto the shape of his face and with his nose completely and totally up inside her. As her weight settled onto him she squeezed together, forming a wet, fleshy airtight seal round his mouth, nose and much of his face.

Unlike the previous smothering, the absence of air was now total. Not only could he not breathe any fresh air, he was unable to even breathe in at all. His mouth and nose seemed blocked, full, with her clinging, sucking body that engulfed him and shut out all contact with the outside world, pulling him into her as though it would consume him completely.

She sat still, squeezing and concentrating on keeping him airless and immobile. He tried to struggle, but all he could do was to clutch vainly with his hands. He could not move his head at all.

She counted, slowly and deliberately. She counted to sixty, knowing that he could hold his breath for longer although not sure it was quite so easy to do in his present situation.

Then she raised herself just a fraction and counted to ten while he puffed, panted and gasped.

She lowered herself again, forcing the airtight seal her body made round him once more. She started counting to sixty. Slowly.

Ten times she repeated it feeling each time his attempts to breathe getting weaker, and then she stayed off him.......for a whole minute before she started again.

For over an hour she smothered him, letting him breathe just briefly between each smothering and finding that her enjoyment and excitement mounted as it continued. At last, shaking and quivering, she was unable to keep up the control over herself. As she once again covered his nose and mouth with her body, her hand reached down to touch herself, to press and rub on those places she now so desperately needed touched and rubbed.

Within a few seconds she was completely lost in the pure pleasure of it, heading uncontrollably towards her climax and totally oblivious to everything else around her. How long it took her she had no idea and would not have been capable of counting or stopping for a second. He remained beneath her, adding to her pleasure as she pressed down onto him still completely cutting off his air supply as she squeezed and gripped him between and underneath her.

When the final shudder took her, she fell back and released him from the wet airless world imprisoning him. She lay there for several minutes before she was able to think clearly and then, suddenly worried, quickly sat up to look at him.

He lay motionless, and for a moment she thought she had smothered him to unconsciousness, or worse. He was breathing though, and she soon realised that although he might be feeling dizzy, exhausted, and have blurry vision through both the lack of air and the force with which she had pushed down and rubbed herself on top of him, he was fully conscious.

As she climbed off the bed he murmured, "Please........"

She turned round. "Yes?" she said.

"Let me........."

"Let you what?" her tone was sharp, although she herself was still somewhat out of breath. "Let you go? Or........" she looked at his naked body still stretched out and secured to her bed. 'Still mine,' she thought, 'Still mine to treat however I like, and there's nothing he can do to stop me.' A sudden thrill of excitement went through her. She had not finished with him, she decided. She had hardly started!