Breathing Styles Novels & Stories

' 'With great difficulty. I relax back against the cold wall behind me, or at least as much as I can, close my eyes, and start doing the breathing exercises Sam showed me. In .... and out, in .... and out as I rest my hands in my lap, cupping my flat stomach, in .... and out, in .... and out. I focus on the life, the light growing inside of me, sending it positive energy and vibes. 'Good,' the voice whispers encouragingly, 'good, keep calm and keep breathing, let your power do the rest.'

I am painfully conscious of his presence across from me—the subtle scent of pine and clean linen that clings to him, the controlled rhythm of his breathing, the weight of his attention even with eyes closed. "Focus on your breath," he continues, mercifully moving past my embarrassment. "When thoughts intrude, acknowledge them, then let them float away. Don't fight them. Don't chase them." I try again, inhaling slowly. Four counts in. Seven counts holding. Eight counts releasing. The pattern creates a gentle rhythm that gradually slows my heartbeat. With each cycle, the tension in my shoulders eases incrementally. Time shifts, stretches. I lose track of how long we sit in silence, breathing i

For that she will use the weakest side of men to ensnare him. Fifteen minutes later Krystal appeared in front of Yunho in a tight dress fifteen inches above the knee that was so ravishing. Underneath her sexy dress, Krystal deliberately uses lacy panties which will be clearly visible if she bends her body a little. And she purposely not wearing her bra so she will get excited when he sees her, and after that he will fall into her cunning scheme. "Come on, let's meet him now."

“Taking me so deep. So flexible. Made for this.” She could barely speak, only broken moans and gasps. His hands pinned her thighs to his chest, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin behind her knees while he pounded into her, rhythmic, relentless, the wet slap of their bodies echoing off the mirrors. “Tantric breath,” he reminded her. “In… hold… out slow. Feel every inch.” She tried, inhaling as he bottomed out, holding the breath while he ground circles against her cervix, exhaling long and shaky as he dragged back almost to the tip. The controlled breathing intensified everything: the stretch, the fullness, the building pressure low in her belly.

When I initially started playing professionally, I consulted a sports psychologist who taught me a breathing method. Breathe in carefully for five counts, hold the breath for five counts, and then release the breath on the fifth count. Five times over, repeat. I picture a spotless sheet of white while I work. A chilly air on my skin, a ring of boards and glass around me, enclosing and grounding me, and a huge slab of ice beneath my feet.

"Nobody else is going to remember the hip-squeeze technique either. They’ll be sorry they weren’t taking notes when the actual birth starts." "It's breathing, Mason. I've been doing it my whole life." "It's patterned breathing. There's a structure." Marisol claps twice. "We'll start with the slow-paced breath. In for four, out for eight. Partners, breathe with them." I close my eyes. In for four. The baby stretches, one long roll, foot dragging across the inside of my ribs like she's checking the acoustics. Behind me, Mason is counting under his breath. "Are you counting out loud?"

“Follow my voice as we go through the exercise. Inhale for four counts,hold, then exhale for four counts, hold, then repeat. We’re going to do this ten times. Any questions?” “I think I have got this for now, ” she replied, closing her eyes slowly. “Inhale, one… two… three… four… hold… exhale, four… three…two… one… hold. Inhale…” he repeated ten times, and she settled into the steady rhythm, all thoughts and worries drifting from her mind as it melded with her body. “Sigh out all the air left in your lungs…” Ayal exhaled with all her strength

Lana’s POV “Focus your breathing with his,” Maeve instructed. “Slow yours down. Guide his rhythm. With that thread in your possession, you are in full control.” I inhaled deeply, feeling the thread expand with my breath. Then, I exhaled. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Gradually, his breathing began to follow mine; his chest rising and falling in even motions, and his life force felt a little stronger, though not by much.

The images cling to the corners of my vision refusing to fade. The air feels thick, pressing down on me, choking me as if it wasn’t quite real, hands trembling uncontrollably. “Breathe Tish, inhale, hold exhale.” I hear Kim’s gentle voice guiding me. My breaths come shallow, jagged at first, like I am learning to breathe again slowly. I loosen my grip on the mattress, willing my pulse to slow down. Eyes closed, I breathe in the faint scent of rain filtering through the small cracked window, mixing with the stale air of the room. “Breathe in and out.”

“Stop fighting me and breathe.” But I couldn’t stop fighting. I couldn’t let him see me like this. I couldn’t risk him asking questions I didn’t know how to answer. I pushed against him again, weaker this time. “Please, I just need to…” “Breathe.” His voice dropped lower, that commanding tone that had pulled me back from panic attacks before. “In through your nose. Now.” My body obeyed before my mind could protest. Air trickled in shakily. “Good. Hold it. Count to four with me. One. Two. Three. Four.”