I take my last breath.

I look around the room through two round glass windows. I move my eyes only, as my head is fixed in one position. Around me are my friends, gathered around me for my final breath. They are watching me intently from a short distance, in an outer circle. I can feel the build up of carbon dioxide in my blood, signalling my body to try to breath. I do try to breath but I can neither breath in nor out.

Within my inner circle there is only me and a man wearing a hockey mask. His mask is directly in front of my face. If I were able to move, I would be able to reach out and touch it. Within the rubber gas mask around my head I start to sweat. I feel panic rising within me like a wave rolling over a beach. Like sand covered by the oncoming wave, all my insecurities, all my daily troubles disappear and there is only the fear and excitement of dying and an increasing desperation for one more lungful of air but nothing comes into my lungs.

The hockey mask comes closer to my face and I feel like screaming but no sound escapes. I try to thrash around but my limbs are encased, trapped, immobile. I begin to relax, to accept the inevitable, to accept that my destiny belongs to the pitiless man in the hockey mask. I take one last long look at my friends gathered around me to witness my catharsis and I close my eyes and leave my body.

I open my eyes and look down. In front of me I see a cup of black coffee. Next to it is a glass ashtray with half a cigarette leaning inside it. The end of the cigarette is burning. I try to move and discover that there is nothing binding my limbs. I can move freely. I reach out my left hand and pick up the cigarette and put it to my lips. My first breath is acrid, smoke fills and burns my lungs slightly, but it feels good to be able to breathe in then out. I put down the cigarette and enjoy breathing without it. In. Out. In. Out.

I look around. I am in a small cafe with plastic chairs beneath laminated tables and walls which are stained yellow with smoke. There are no other customers but an old man sits behind a counter, smoking and looking up at a small television mounted high up in a corner of the room. He is watching football, his lips moving silently in encouragement or dismay; I cannot tell which. I look down again at the coffee, then pick it up and try a sip. It is cold.

I leave the acrid cigarette in the ashtray and the cold coffee on the table and stand up, feeling a little unsteady on my feet for a moment. There is a receipt on the table so I must have paid already. The old man looks round at me and nods. I nod back, then leave the cafe. Outside the air is cool and I have no jacket.

Maybe I came here by car. I feel around in my pockets and find car keys. I look up and down the street at the row of parked cars. Which one is mine? There is a button on the side of the keys and I press it. The lights flash on a nearby car accompanied by a double beeping sound. I walk over, pull the door open and sit in the driver’s seat. I pull down the sunshade, then open the driver’s vanity mirror and look at my face. A man’s face, tired eyes and a black and grey beard. My hair is all black, long and tied back in a ponytail. I move my head only, fixing my eyes on myself in the mirror and remember who I am. Of course, how could I forget it, must have blacked out for a minute. I turn o n the engine and drive home for something to eat before tonight’s party. How could I forget ?

Later at the party, I lean on the bar and watch the people. A stunningly attractive lady wearing latex walks past me, she slows and she looks over her shoulder back at me and smiles. She walks on, her tight ass in black latex swaying from side to side. I take my hockey mask from my shoulder bag, fix it in place over my face and I follow her across the room.

I watch her through the eyeholes and listen to the quickened sound of my own breathing reflected from the mask.

I feel myself getting hard as I get closer and closer to her. She enters the dungeon area and disappears briefly from sight. I walk around the dungeon looking for her. When I find her she is leaning against a wooden, Saint Andrew's cross. I walk past her then circle back behind the cross.

I slowly approach her from behind, unseen, and I pull some rope from my shoulder bag. I am close enough to smell her now, a mix of perfume and latex, exciting me beyond reason. I throw the rope around her neck and tie it round the back of the cross. Her hands grasp at the rope but she is too late. I take leather straps from the bag and roughly fasten her wrists and arms to the cross, leaving her unable to move her arms. She tries to kick me but I expected that and I easily dodge her flaying legs. I catch first one leg, fastening it to the cross with more straps, then I immobilise the other leg.

The rope round her neck is preventing her from screaming but her lips are still moving. I pull an old gas mask from the back and force it over her head. She tries to resist and shakes her head but I grab her hair, pulling her head to one side and force the rubber gas mask over her head. With the mask in place, I remove the rope from around her neck and tie it around her waist to the cross, tight and cutting into her narrow latex encased waistline. Now she is mine.

Her latex catsuit has zips in several places and I open the zips on her breasts to reveal her nipples. She is still trying to struggle but is completely immobilised now. I lick and tease her nipples with my fingers then with my mouth. As I lick one nipple I roughly squeeze the other between my fingers and twist it to see her wriggle in pain. Then I change to lick the other nipple, and punish the first with another rough twist.

The round glass of the gas mask steams up slightly as I do this and I can hear a moaning sound, muffled by the tight rubber around her face. The moaning is channeled down the old hose hanging from the front of the mask.

I examine the rest of the latex catsuit and find a third zip between her legs. I open this to reveal pink, wet flesh and I insert one finger in her, then a second. I move the end of the long hose to her pussy and begin to fuck her with it, playing with her clit as I do so.

She struggles harder against her bonds but there is no escape. I remove the hose from her pussy, unzip my own trousers and take out my own erect member, inserting it slowly into her. At first I fuck her slowly, then I let my desire take me over and fuck her harder and harder, pushing her against the cross, my hockey mask in front of her gas mask, our eyes locked together through the eyeholes of one mask and the glass windows of the other. I put one hand over the end of the hose, cutting off her air and I continue to thrust hard and fast. As I come inside her, I see her eyes close, then open momentarily as she looks around the room, then close again.

Her body is limp and I realise she has lost consciousness. Acting quickly I pull out of her, and quickly but carefully remove her gas mask. I look around and ask some friends for help, then support her head as several hands quickly and efficiently untie her bonds. With their help, I lay her on her back and check her breathing. She is breathing regularly and her airway is unblocked. I lay her on her side in the recovery position. Only then do I remove my own hockey mask. After what seems like an eternity, she wakes slowly, her breathing loud and she moans and shakes her head. Her eyes open.

I open my eyes. I am lying on my side. In front of me, I see a man’s face with wide, worried eyes and a black and grey beard. His hair is long and black and is tied back in a ponytail. I remember who he is.

“Darling,” I whisper, “I'm tired, can we go home now?”