Hands Around My Neck: a Story of Breathplay and Ghosts

By Kayla Rhodes

She didn’t used to believe in ghosts, but when one shows up and tries to strangle her, she has no choice. But this spirit doesn’t want to kill her. Quite the opposite. He wants to satisfy the strangle fetish that she never even realized she had. If she can learn to trust him, the ghostly encounters will leave her screaming... but not out of fear.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kayla Rhodes
• Release date: Jun 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393601593

Kayla Rhodes

Kayla is an author of erotic short stories, specializing in weird kinks and misfit niches. Check out her website if you have any story requests!

Book preview

I was lying in bed, wide awake, shivering, and trying to convince myself that my house wasn’t haunted.

This was normal, right? All first-time home owners must go through this phase where they imagine all sorts of problems with the house they’ve just purchased. And if there weren’t any obvious issues, they would invent some, even if that meant dipping into the supernatural.

It started with a few classic ‘bumps in the night,’ and then lights turning on or off at will, but I was able to logic those away easily enough. But this? This was different. It was the middle of summer, my air conditioner was broken, and yet the bedroom was absolutely freezing.

I lowered the blankets just enough to reveal my chin, and breathed out a frozen fog that looked appropriately ghostly in the darkness. I certainly couldn’t explain that away using science.

There was a ghost in the room. There had to be.

I pulled the covers up to my chin, but that didn’t stop me from feeling the icy fingers trace playful lines along my spine. My childhood beliefs were wrong: blankets wouldn’t protect you from monsters.

I squeezed my eyes shut, silently chanting It’s not real over and over. But then the ghostly fingers settled around my neck, and I couldn’t keep pretending. My own hands brushed and clawed frantically at the sensitive skin, but that did nothing to deter the ghost.

It was no longer just the tips of its fingers. I could feel the full width of his palms lying flat against the sides of my neck, chilling the veins that rushed directly underneath them. His