Death By Your Hands....

He was in an armed force which shall remain unnamed. I don't know how it came to be that I found myself in his company, being that he was completely not my type.
He was a blond haired, blue eyed Ken doll type. The epitome of fitness not a scrap of extras anywhere to be found. He was also rather short, only a head taller than me.

Did I mention he was 6 years younger than I was?

He had just barely turned 19 and full of some youthful zest for life that you tend to loose the older you get. He also had more energy and enthusiasm than I had ever seen in my life!
I had never been into younger men, or even men my own age for that matter. I was always into older men and certainly not jock-ish sorts like him.

I would like to think that it was this energy and enthusiasm that attracted me to him, as he offered little else. Like the Ken doll, he certainly hadn't been blessed with endowment.

He had obviously led a sheltered life previous to his service. He was constantly asking me to explain various terms he heard or that I had said. I remember quite vividly a time when he had asked me to explain what "Backdoor" meant.... He honestly had no idea.

One day he told me that he had something to confess, he had experienced something foreign to him and he didn't understand what was going on. He was embarrassed and had no one else to talk about it with. Apparently he had been hurt somehow doing whatever it is military people do. However, he found that the pain had sexually aroused him. He was very bothered by this and thought himself to be weird. He had never heard of people liking pain or getting off on pain before. He honestly thought that something was very wrong with him and was scared.

Boy did he tell the right girl!

I explained to him what it is to have a fetish. What a fetish is, and that there were endless varieties of fetishes out there. I told him that it wasn't weird at all for him to be aroused by receiving pain. In fact, that I was aroused by giving pain myself. I reassured him that there were many, many people that shared in this fetish. I vaguely explained BDSM to him. Only enough for him to get the idea.

Then I showed him my toy box.... I could nearly see the relief flood over him as he no longer looked frightened, but rather curious now. That same childlike enthusiasm returned and he wanted to explore some into this new found kink of his.

I had him undress and lay on the bed face down. I selected a few favourites of mine and laid them next to him to see. Since this was very new to him and I had no idea how he would react.... I let him choose his torture for his first time.

He chose the electric shocking device.

I hooked him up and gave him a light dose. He was unphased and disappointed, so I cranked it up quite a bit. As the electricity coursed through him I could see his muscles twitching and his hands digging into the bed. The veins on his neck stood out so clearly and he let out a grunt.
He turned his head to the side to look at me. His expression was that of immense pain, but still a small sheepish grin spread from his lips as he let me know that he had really liked that.
He turned over to show me just how much.
I smiled and flipped him back around. I told him that I was going to try a few more things....

I tried different instruments, textures and sensory type things before he could take it no more and wanted to relieve himself.

Over a few weeks we explored his new found fetish. He grew ever more confident and gained a better understanding of what he really liked.

I started to have less time for him due to work and my other social affairs. The thing was, that even though he was 19 chronologically.... emotionally he was very much a young teenager. At first I had an idea that this was the case, but it became ever more apparent. I actually started to feel ill around him. All the questions about this and that (not pertaining to his fetish).... The way he used baby words to describe things.... I felt like I was robbing the cradle or something. Like I was a pervert of the nasty sorts.... I just felt wrong. I felt old around him. I just got this irrational idea that I was a molester or something vile like that. I just couldn't handle it at the time. Looking back on it now, the situation of course is far more clear. He was a grown man. He lived on his own. He was in the service. He worked for a living.... I was NOT a weirdo child molester or anything.... I just realised that I do not want to be any one's first. That I am not cut out for being the teacher. That I am best, when the other understands completely what is going on.

Rather than upset him and make him feel like there was something wrong with him.... I got stuck in at work and was there quite late everyday. I know it sounds cowardly, but with him being so new to this whole different world and very emotional.... I didn't want to go explaining my own weird irrational feelings about being around him. I mean, really my issues were the last thing he needed. I introduced him to others that shared his fetish and tried to get him interested in other people. He made friends and such, but was still attached to me at the hip.

He didn't take it so well that I didn't have much time for him.
Not well at all.
He started to think that I was "cheating" on him. Strange as I didn't realise we were a couple like that at all. I guess I hadn't really been paying any attention at all.
He came over one day to tell me that he received notice that the service was moving him far away. I told him that it could be good for him to see more of what was out there for him.

This was the trigger. This set him off like I had never seen before. Right before my eyes there was a visible shift in him. No longer was the the energetic, enthusiastic sweet guy standing before me but someone else entirely. A stranger, a very menacing stranger.
He was in a rage that I had never seen in him.

He came flying at me and before I knew it, I was on the floor with my legs pinned under me and his knee on my chest. He looked like a snarling, rabid beast standing over me. His eyes had a crazed quality and his face blazing red. He spat out some nonsense before tearing at his own hair. His hands were curling into claws as I could see that he was wrestling with the idea of hitting me. He instead punched the floor next to my head and howled in rage. I just laid there staring up at him. It was impossible for me to move with my legs pinned as they were. I knew that whatever was going to happen.... was going to happen.

I can't say I wasn't pissed off as all hell being pinned to the floor while he decided which way he wanted his temper tantrum to go. I just stayed calm and stared at him trying to keep my anger in check and tried to keep control.

He yelled this and that at me. He called me names, he cried, he swore....

He began to strangle me.

This was when I nearly lost it. His hands clamped around my neck fiercely. This was no play, this was business. He stared me right in the eye as he clenched down harder. He told me that no one else should be able to have me.
He would stop for a bit before starting again in rhythm as his rage ebbed and flowed. I said nothing the entire time. I didn't beg, I didn't threaten, I did swear, I didn't cry. I just said nothing and stared at him.

He began to beg me to say something. He questioned me, but I said nothing. I gave him nothing. He wanted to hear me say he truth, that he was leaving and I moving on.... I guess he needed me to say that to fuel his rage. I said nothing.

My flatmate came home just at that moment and saw me pinned down and apparently looking like death warmed over. My flatmate came flying at him and caught him off guard and hit him in the face knocking him over to his side. I got up slowly and watched as he laid there on the carpet crying into his hands. My flatmate, shakes his head and asks if I am alright.
Of course I wasn't alright but I was still alive and that was that.

A week later, the day before he was due to depart. He calls me and leaves a message on my voicemail asking if I would come see him before he leaves.
I never called back.