It was a humid summer afternoon when Jamie-Kate stepped into her living room, feeling the sticky sweat on her forehead already beginning to drip down onto her bare shoulders. She had come home, exhausted after yet another long day at work on the set of her new reality show, only to find that her pathetic excuse for a boyfriend still hadn't managed to get around to buying her the couch she had been asking for weeks.
Her eyes caught sight of the old, torn up sofa they currently had in their living room, and she grimaced in annoyance. The material was peeling off its cushions, and threads were sticking out from every seam. Just looking at it made her want to curl up into a ball and howl with frustration.
She stormed into the kitchen, grabbing a roll of duct tape from the drawer beneath the sink. Then, before she could change her mind, she pushed open the door to the garage and pulled out a thick, black leather belt. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest as she carefully undid the buckle, not daring to look back at what would soon be her personal couch.
Jamie-Kate marched back into the living room, the belt swinging lightly from her hand. Her boyfriend, Clayton, was sitting on the floor, watching her warily. He knew what she was capable of when she got angry; he had felt the sting of her wrath many times before.
"Get up," she commanded, her voice cold and hard. Clayton hesitated for only a moment before standing shakily to his feet. Jamie-Kate smiled cruelly, taking a step closer to him. "I told you to get me that fucking couch," she growled. "But no, you had to be a lazy-ass bum and forget about it. Well, guess what, baby? Your face is going to be my new couch."
Without another word, Jamie-Kate wrapped the belt around Clayton's neck and pulled him close, forcing him to his knees in front of her. His eyes were wide with fear as he looked up at her, his mouth hanging open in shock. She pulled the belt tighter around his throat, causing him to gasp for air.
"Now, I'm going to sit on your face," she whispered menacingly, "and you're going to love it."
Slowly, Jamie-Kate lowered herself down onto Clayton's chest. Her weight pressed against his face, forcing air out of his lungs. He struggled to breathe, his chest heaving under the pressure, but he couldn't escape from her grasp.
"Mmmm," she moaned, grinding her hips against his face. "That's it, baby. Show me how much you love your face being my new couch."
Clayton whimpered, his eyes streaming with tears. He was completely at her mercy, and he knew it. He tried to push her away, but she only grunted with amusement and dug her heels into his back, forcing him closer.
As she rode him, grinding her hips against his face, Jamie-Kate felt a strange sense of satisfaction wash over her. This was control; this was power. And she loved every second of it. She would keep him like this all night long if she could, letting her body weight crush his chest and suck the air from his lungs.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jamie-Kate pulled herself off Clayton and tossed the belt onto the floor. She stood over him, her hands on her hips, and shot him a smug grin.
"Well, baby," she laughed, "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did."
Clayton remained curled up on the floor, shaking uncontrollably, his face red and swollen from the pressure. Jamie-Kate sighed, rolling her eyes. She bent down, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to the bedroom.
"I should probably mention," she said, pushing him onto the bed, "that you're going to have quite the black eye tomorrow. Maybe people will think you're cool when they see it, who knows?"
With that, Jamie-Kate turned away, leaving Clayton to stew in his own self-loathing. She flopped down onto the bed beside him, wondering if she should bother taking a shower before passing out from exhaustion.
Tomorrow was going to be another long day of filming her reality show, but Jamie-Kate couldn't care less. Her boyfriend's swollen face was the perfect way to start the day.
