Every character in this story is 18+. Though ultimately consensual and safe-ish, it contains group acts of extreme choking. I could not find a tag for erotic asphyxiation so I apologize to anyone who regrets being here.
"What do you think the freakshow is going to wear today?”
“Hmmm… something black?”
"I heard she's an absolute freak in bed, too."
"Yeah, I bet."
"No, I'm serious. My brother knows a guy who dated her at her old school. He says to get her going she needs to be... *gak*" The boy made a funny face pretending to choke himself.
“What the fuuuuck…”
Noelle walked into the room at the perfect time to see her new classmate simulating self-asphyxiation and a group of boys and girls laughing about it. Even though the gang stared at her as she walked between the desks, she figured they couldn't have been talking about her. There was no way they'd know. She just blushed and kept her head down.
To answer the preppy girl’s question, today’s freakshow was black and white striped leggings and a death metal tank top over some black fishnet. She was slim but taller than any boy in class without even factoring her bulky platform boots covered in buckles that let her tower over all these bitches and assholes. None of this was about seeking attention, it just spoke to her, and it was a nice bonus that it made most people want to leave her alone.
It seemed her unapproachable facade was not on point today; not enough mascara perhaps. Three particularly insufferable boys surrounded her as she sat down. Maybe these idiots wanted to whine about her essay again. She didn’t ask for the teacher to use it as a shining example of what effort actually looked like.
“Hi, Noelle, is it?”
She tried her best to ignore him.
“There's a rumor going around, I'm sure it's nothing but we wanted to see for ourselves…”
They know... thought Noelle. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! They know.
“If I was to, say, take this hand and put it around your throat, you would stop me, right? You'd tell me not to." The boy was moving his claw-shaped hand in slow-motion toward her neck, giving Noelle plenty of time to react accordingly.
Come on, Noelle. Just tell him to go fuck himself. Break his fucking wrist. Do something! Too many seconds had passed, and the hand was now loosely wrapped around her neck. Her own hands were still by her side and, instead of protecting her tender windpipe, they were squeezing the plastic seat of her chair in perverse anticipation of what usually came next.
She was wired wrong, she knew that, but self-awareness didn't change the fact that she could never say no to being choked. The absolute submission, the rush of adrenaline, and, if she was lucky enough to let it get too far, the orgasm she was having before passing out would accrue interest in the dream world. After being shocked back awake, her body would celebrate still being alive with a nuclear explosion of pleasure that she was now addicted to. At first, she tried convincing herself it was fine as long as she did it alone and safely. But fuck, being alone and safe had become so boring. All she wanted now was to pass out while looking into the eyes of a man who didn't give a fuck if she died.
Did this boy have what it takes? Right now, his sissy grip was way too weak. The gang around her grew to half the class, confused about what they were witnessing.
"Stop it! Leave her alone,” one of the girls yelled at Noelle’s assailant.
"She loves it,” someone else said.
They might have argued about that fact; Noelle stopped paying attention. Her panties were soaking wet just from the slightest pressure on her trachea and the extra effort it took to pass some air through it. She settled the debate: "harder," she said in a hoarse whisper.
The group of boys erupted in cheers and laughter while most girls looked horrified. Noelle’s erotic asphyxiation partner put all of his weight forward, pushing the thenar space against the lower part of Noelle's neck, right above the collar bone. The back of her chair was pinned against a desk; she couldn’t move back. Even better.
"Harder, please," Noelle begged on the edge of bliss. If enough air could come out to say ‘harder’, it definitely wasn't enough. The insecure teenager thought Noelle was taunting him, and he wasn’t about to let her humiliate him in front of his friends. He brought his second hand into the mix, wrapped his fingers around Noelle's neck, and squeezed with all his might until the sound of
Noelle’s breath was only drifting stale air.
That would do it, especially with the two thumbs digging deep. Noelle’s eyes crossed, her tongue, dripping with drool, drooped out of her mouth. Believing that the shit had gotten real, the boy let go in sudden panic. The teacher was 10 minutes late and quickly started the lesson by writing on the board without acknowledging that one of his students was riding out an orgasm in the 4th row.
Noelle’s classroom show had gotten her an invitation for a party later that night; her first real party. The kind where you can hear the bass beat from a block away and with people passed out on the front lawn. It was a regular dance-and-alcohol affair on the first floor, but Noelle was the only girl in the basement. A few of them had stayed to watch, with morbid curiosity, this goth girl spasming like a fish out of water after getting choked out of consciousness by a chain of boys who all wanted a turn. Most girls left, however, when someone took advantage of one of Noelle's cum trance to pull her leggings down and added fingering to the ritual. The vibe turned date-rapey but whoever was left downstairs fully embraced it.
The final and longest stage of Noelle’s wonderful weekend had her stripped of all her clothes except her boots, mainly because of the 16 fake buckles and how well hidden the zippers were. Her long, pale body was face down over an arm of the sofa, a cock in her mouth, a belt around her neck, and a boy standing behind her, stroking an erection.
*GLK* said the last bit of air in her lungs while simultaneously choking on a cock, drowning in bile, and turning red-faced from the belt's tightness. This was her biggest orgasm yet, they all had been, and there was no reason to think the next one wouldn't break a new record. These boys were getting spent and ejacualtions were hard fought. That meant going longer and longer without air.
The game was:
1. Tighten the neck belt to its smallest notch.
2. Wait for the freaky goth chick to pass out.
3. Raw dog your choice of hole from behind.
4. Loosen the belt only once you cum.
5. The guy in charge of the belt face fucks the ragdoll back to life.
Your reward for blowing your load in or on the pale booty was to take a seat on the sofa and become the next person to slide your dirty dick between the black lips and tighten the belt for the next participant. Word spread through the party that the first, desperate, orgasm-driven breath Noelle took when coming around felt amazing if your dick was in the way. The suction, the wetness, the tightness… this girl had ruined regular blowjobs for all of them.
Around noon the next day, even the most hung-over guests were awake and crawling looking for their phones and keys. Downstairs, the game had not stopped. It slowed down, certainly, but there was still a random guy ball-slapping Noelle’s behind, much redder than yesterday, and trying to get his limp dick to squirt a sixth load in that many hours. When he eventually managed, he wandered off, too tired or drunk to remember to tell anyone to loosen the belt. Not that it mattered, the guy on the sofa had been dozing off anyway with his hands on the back of Noelle’s head which was buried in his crotch.
The next guy to shamble downstairs did notice the off-putting purple face and loosened the noose after getting rid of his morning wood. When Noelle was slapped (repeatedly) back into this world. Her mind melted from the rush of blood and air and brain chemicals. She had just started convulsing from this mother of all O’s when the belt tightened once more.
The next Monday was tough. Noelle had gotten a lift to school from the party (maybe?); her mind drifted when trying to remember anything. A black choker around her neck hid the belt marks. It wasn’t hers, but whoever put it on had saved her a lot of unwanted attention from the teachers. The exam in front of her was blurry and, even if she squinted, none of the words and numbers on it made sense. She thought she remembered being pretty good at words and numbers, but it was hard to tell due to her recent memory lapses. The teacher had considerately started writing the essential formulas on the board when Noelle felt the hands of her back-neighbor wrap around the nylon of her choker.
Fuck yes, finally, she thought.
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