Journal of a Girl Who Wanted to be Choked

December 17th, 2014

Christmas is coming soon and then New Years. March will be our fourth anniversary and in June I’ll turn twenty-eight. And by all accounts I fucking love Rolland. He listens to me complain about the people at work and my boss who comes up behind me while I work, just to look down my shirt. We wash the dishes and do yard work together. We even turned laundry into a fun competition, stacking clothes into two equal piles as we race to see who can fold the quickest. I have everything I could want. Asking for more would be selfish. But there is just one thing missing. And the older I get the more it feels like it’s the only thing that matters.

When I was twenty four, sex with Roland was amazing. It still is in a lot of ways. But I couldn’t have predicted how I would change. Getting plowed or having him make love to me seemed like enough. I mean it when I say I love everything about him. I love the way he smells. When he is on top of me I just want to breathe him in. I love the way he narrows his eyebrows at me when I say something completely outlandish, like the time I told him out of the blue, “I just want to punch a squirrel in the face.” He wears these cute black-rimmed glasses and always seems to have stubble on his chin. The guy can air-guitar better than anyone. He even pretends to like my horrific singing voice and gives me standing ovations at karaoke. What’s not to love? But now I have these things inside of me I am desperate to share. He has no idea, because I am hiding them so well. But these things inside of me, these darker thoughts, they are slowly ripping us apart.


December 23rd, 2014

Roland went out to do some last minute Christmas shopping. I peered through the blinds, making sure he didn’t come back right away. He has a habit of returning minutes later to get his wallet and sometimes even coming back a third time for his sunglasses. When I was sure I had the place to myself I hopped on the computer, looking for anything I could find about choking. It started small, like a hint of a thought that might be there but was too obscure to discern as anything other than white-noise inside an already chaotic mind. All Roland did was touch my neck while kissing me. I’m sure he must have done it before. In all the years we had dated and been married he must have, right? I couldn’t recall it ever happening. And now it has become an obsession.

I’d put my hand on his hand and slide it up to my neck, but he kept on moving until his hand was in my hair. And I screamed silently, “Choke me. Come on be a fucking man and choke me. Just one time.” It has yet to happen. And after a while I found myself watching as he reached for things, the tendons in his hands, creases across his knuckles, short uneven fingernails with just a little dirt under them, thin arm hair that stops just past his wrist and the hundreds of little follicles spotting his skin. “Take that fucking hand and wrap it around my whore throat!”

I could tell him. I could ask him to choke me but every time I think about doing that, every time I think about how the conversation will go I panic. What if I let that genie out and he never looks at me the same way? What if he rejects that part of me? It’s too much to risk just because I want to feel overpowered and lost. It is too much to risk, I think.


January 18th, 2015

Rolland is starting to suspect something is wrong. Lately, I have been staying up past when he went to bed so I could sext with this guy I met online. He is really into choking and the conversations we have get so fucking hot. But last night, Rolland was dozing off as he watched the Daily Show, and then stayed up another hour before finally asking me if I wanted to go to bed. “I’ll be there in a bit,” I promised.

Conversations with my sext buddy helps me to see it so perfectly. I feel guilty talking to this man- no, I feel guilty I don’t feel guilty- but as we text it is Rolland I imagine. I am probably cheating on an emotional level but I just can’t take it anymore. I need that release. My fantasies are getting darker and I feel like I can’t put the lid back on the bottle. It has gone from choking to wanting strangers to grab me in the dark, throw me against the wall and rape me as I cry. It’s fucking crazy. I know. I am sure if all my girlfriends knew they would look at me like I’m a meth dealer. I can’t help where my thoughts have led me. All I want is to be able to tell the man I love what I need.


January 24th, 2015

The truth is, I am going to cheat on him. I have already been flirting with the idea. Another man I have been talking to, who only lives twenty minutes away, he wants to wrap his belt around my neck as he fucks me. How hot would that be? I know the dangers of meeting strangers off the internet, but I’m obsessed. All I think about is that feeling. Everything makes me want it. When I drive by a construction site I imagine hydraulic powered machines pressing into my throat. I imagine objects around my neck like cords and rope. Scarfs, ties, fishing line… I want all of it to choke me. I don’t know where this will end but I feel my love slipping away. Rolland seems smaller to me now. Weaker. How can he not be a man and want to control his woman?


January 25th, 2015

Last night I sat on his cock and rode him, my long dark hair covering my breasts. My eyes were closed and I wondered how much longer until he’d be done. God, I hate being on top. It’s something I do far too much. He should be riding ME, plowing ME, fucking ME. I felt his hands slide up to my breasts, underneath my hair, and for a second I thought he was trying to reach my neck. He even held his hand to my throat for just a moment before moving up to my head, pulling me down to kiss him. Good try, baby. But that wasn’t what I need. I need you to hurt me.


January 27th, 2015

I have given up. What’s worse is I think he knows. He has been trying the last few nights to be a little more aggressive but it just feels fake. Like he isn’t sure what to do. He is the man. He is supposed to know what to do. It is crazy I am willing to throw all of this away just to fulfill one sexual need.


February 1st, 2015

Last night we got in the biggest argument in our life and it was all my fault. I was mad at him for not giving me what I need so instead of telling him I bitched about the new PS4 game he bought. I don’t even care. I spent like $200 this month on art supplies. My anger pushed his buttons and he responded with his own anger that pushed my buttons. It ended with me saying, “Boys play video games. It’s about fucking time you started to act like a man.”

Seeing him sink his head, watching his eyes well up with tears, I knew I had changed him. I knew that I probably threw away our marriage with one little line. I let it out. He knows how I feel and I am horrified to know what happens next.


February 6th, 2015

It’s 1 AM and sleeping is an impossibility. Four hours ago, Rolland walked in on me touching my pussy as I had my hand wrapped around my throat. I quickly tried to cover up what I was doing and said, “Um, just got out of the shower wanted to lay here before I got dressed.

His response seemed to take forever but when he spoke he finally said, “Don’t stop on my account. That’s fucking sexy.” I couldn’t remember how long it had been since he last made me blush. “Pretend I am not here. Go back and do what you were doing. “

“I can’t let you watch. I’m too shy,” I responded even though I desperately wanted him to see me. See the real me he has been missing.

“Don’t be, baby. I’m your husband. There is nothing you need to be shy about. And I mean NOTHING.”

I wanted to believe him. There was just this pain in my chest, like if I say it out loud everything in my world could fall apart. But if this was going to happen, if I was ever going to get what I wanted, I needed to take a leap. So, I closed my eyes, and began to touch myself, moving my finger around my clit. I peaked for just a moment to see his blurry outline standing in the doorway and then shut my eyes tight again. It was then the sensations from my clit eased the panic in my chest, and I could just let go. My free hand slid up to my breasts, squeezing them and twisting my nipples, losing myself further, all I pictured was Rolland’s perfect hand wrapped around my throat, gently massaging with the tips of his fingers, my back arching and soft moans fleeing my mouth, thrusting my hips upward until my hand raced back and forth. I don’t realize that Roland had laid down beside me until I felt his hand on my hand. The hand around my throat. Our fingers intertwined and he whispered, “Don’t stop, baby. This is so fucking sexy.”

For so long I had been holding this in. I had been living in fear that if he knew me, he’d hate me. And with one sentence he showed me how stupid I had been all this time. Rolland loves me. He loves all of me. And I was crazy to think that would ever change. My hand drifted off my neck and fell to my side but Rolland’s hand remained, gently massaging my throat. It felt better than I had imagined it sexting with strangers and reading about it on the internet. Rolland’s perfect hand on his wife’s throat. The harder he squeezed the faster my hand moved back and forth over my clit. “That’s it baby. You feel that? You feel my hand on your throat?”

I couldn’t believe it. He was talking to me, too. Something else I had always wanted. I wanted to hear him. In my soft raspy and labored voice I whispered, “Tighter.”

His hand was now firmly wrapped around my throat, pressing into my windpipe, my mouth opened and barely any air getting in. Already I knew CO2 was building up in my system. I felt dizzy and my mind vacant, unable to process any complex thought. The only thing concrete was his hand and the fact that it was Rolland’s hand, no one else’s. “Cum for me, baby.” He grunted, squeezing even tighter. My body shook and trembled, my back arched like the golden gate bridge, no air able to get in, no air able to get out, rising off the bed as if I were possessed, and my orgasm froze in suspended animation, sex purgatory, I couldn’t cum, nor could I stop from cumming. I opened my eyes as if to ask Rolland, “Are you going to let go?” And after a moment of looking at one another, my body rising even higher of the bed, trying to fight for air, reflexively my fingers racing across my clit, he let go, allowing my body to crash down onto the bed, releasing the orgasm from within me, finally. I squirmed and screamed, parts of my body turning red as the blood rushed oxygen through veins to my capillaries. Up to that point everything in my sex life had been a precursor to this and now it all seemed whimsical like a child’s memories. That… being choked to that extreme, made me feel as if I was now finally an adult and ready to experience adult things.

Catching my breath, Rolland just nestled up beside me. As he brushed my hair back off my face he said something I couldn’t believe. He said something that will forever change the course of our marriage and it taught me a lesson I will never forget. He said, “Fuck, you have no idea how long I wanted to do to you.”