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She reacted with unabashed skepticism at her champyon's claim. "You're exaggerating." Yes, she knos she is smol, and her champyon is strong, but for him to say he could do -anything- he wants with her, if he chose? And there's -nothing- she could do to resist? Decidedly doubtful, she thought to herself, falling victim to skewed perception after so many months of her husband being mostly gentle and loving and only getting slightly rough at times.
Earlier, she had joked that she was stronger than her champyon, leading to the present discussion, now culminating in him saying, "I would never hurt you, but if I put you in a choke hold, there is nothing you could do to get out." She laughed at this, and was absolutely convinced she could squirm and pry and wiggle her way out. So she issued a challenge to him: "Try it."
Surprised, he hesitated at first, but then thought, what could be the harm? He's rough with her sometimes already, and besides, he wouldn't actually hurt her; just remind her what he's capable of, and they could have a laugh afterwards.
So he picked her up effortlessly, gripping her from behind just underneath the ribcage, and sat on the couch with her on his lap. The ease with which he did this caused a flicker of doubt in her mind, but she swept it away and it was replaced with amusement. She smiled and giggled, already celebrating her inevitable escape and subsequent gloating.
"You can still back out," he said, moving his arms into position. "Do it," she answered.
She gasped as her champyon's arm around her neck tightened more suddenly than she expected. She could already tell her head was completely immobile. Her hands moved subconsciously up to his arm and gripped it feebly, pulling at it. The muscles of his forearm were as hard as steel, she thought. And he was still gripping tighter. Soon she could feel the squeeze around her neck, and it kept getting tighter and tighter, like a blood pressure cuff at the doctor's office. She squirmed her entire body, and an involuntary whimper escaped her just before she could no longer breathe at all. Only seconds had passed, but it felt like minutes. The edges of her vision darkened, but strangely, she felt butterflies in her stomach. The tightness, in some way, evoked a measure of comfort similar to that of a hug, and behind the panic in the forefront of her mind was the warm assurance that her champyon, this hulking animal dominating her right now, was actually on her side, and would never truly harm her.
Her oxygen still cut off, struggle giving way to submission, a trickle of drool fell from her lips. Her champyon loosened his grip a few seconds later. Her windpipe now open, the first thing it emitted was a brief moan, followed by a gasp for air. Her next action surprised even herself. Delirious, her vision blurry, she planted several kisses on his forearm between breaths. Her prior arrogance extinguished and with a renewed humbleness, some deep instinct instructed her to appease this much larger, stronger creature with affection to ward off his attack. Her champyon blushed as he felt her soft lips against the same arm he just used to choke her. His own dominant instincts mixing confusingly with affection, he suddenly gripped her throat with his hand and squeezed, forcing another involuntary moan out of his wife, and, holding her by the neck... kissed the top of her head. He then released her neck, moved his arms down to her chest, and gave her a gentle hug from behind.
Still catching her breath, she moved her arms on top of his, and relaxed back into him, her head on his chest. They snuggled quietly together for a moment, enveloped in a warm and unexpected aura of love after this aggressive experiment. As she laid against him, she slowly became conscious that the insides of her thighs were soaked. Submissiveness having firmly taken hold in her mind, she would appease her big, strong champyon with more than kisses, she decided. But it can wait; just a few more minutes of cuddling, she thought, turning her head and nuzzling into the chest of her forever husband.
