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As long as he was bucking, I knew he was conscious. I let him twitch, squirm, and writhe for awhile until his motions started weakening, then gave him free air. After a while, I repeated this torture. He was vibrating the bed now. Cool. This was fun. He was strong and fought hard. I loved it, every minute of it. I was very aware that for him each second was like an eternity and he was fighting for his very life. Intoxicating. The power I felt was much more of a rush than the pot I had smoked.

Next I took the hose and placed it right smack on my tit, so the nipple was inside it's open end. The bucking and sucking started almost immediately. He tried to suck my nipple right down the tube, and his bucking was thrilling to me, I was getting very wet and had to roll over on my belly so I could enjoy the ride.

I realized in my somewhat stoned state while giggling, that I had to fart and gave it to him good, moving the open end of the hose so it was at the door to my bowels. Eat this, I thought, and got an immediate payoff, the whole bed literally shook with his seizure. I was really enjoying this and decided to take it another step further. I rolled over to reach for my stash and rolled another joint. I lit up and let the smoke gather in my open mouth very thick and still and held the open end of the hose to my lips so he could inhale the intoxicating product. I played around with this for about half the joint and then put it out.

By now he knew I was aware of him and fucking with him. This would give him hope. His senses would strain to feel me, to try and make some connection, to communicate in some way. It would make him frantic, and drive him crazy. I laughed thinking about him there, every fiber of his being wanting so bad to impress upon me in some unspoken manner his new-found devotion to me, the bestower or withholder of his precious oxygen.

Sure enough, the hose by my side began making sounds in rhythm with his labored breathing. I played the open end over my nipples to feel his breath. The tempo was pretty steady at this point, so I decided to play with my prisoner. I took the open end of the hose and stuck it up between my legs. Oooh.., that was nice, I shivered with delight, knowing that he was tasting my scent. The tempo of his breathing had increased and so I moved the hose up to where it was in my armpit but not blocked off. I wanted him to taste that scent too. I could see him in my mind sucking on that hose for all he was worth. First the scent of warm pussy, now the aroma of my sweat. He deserved a treat so I placed the hose between the cheeks of my ass, still not blocking off the end, just giving him the funky lowdown stench of my bowels.

I had placed a bunch of pillows on my bed after sliding the mattress over my victim. This was to even things out since his head created a lump. I rolled myself a joint and put on some music, read an erotic short story and just dozed comfortably stoned, in and out of sleep. I was waiting. About midnight I felt the first vibrations. Here we go, I thought. I could imagine him down there, sweating in the dark, unable to move and slowly getting more and more light-headed. I knew that now he was starting to panic, his brain convinced that he'd been buried alive and was dying beneath the body weight of an uncaring goddess who if she spared him a thought at all would enjoy his agonizingly slow death.

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