Message-ID: <30445asstr$990753002@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <news@lsnewsr1.we.mediaone.net> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail X-Original-Message-ID: <3B0D1CA5.41EFF9A0@mediaone.net> From: "A. P. Damien" <APDamien@mediaone.net> X-Accept-Language: en MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 24 May 2001 07:40:13 PDT Subject: {ASSM} ASA Story: A Winter Vacation (M solo, hanging, NC, snuff) (REPOST) Date: Thu, 24 May 2001 21:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/30445> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, newsman This story was written by Matthew. I (Damien) am posting it by permission of the author. Listen up! Yes, I mean you! There's a few things you gotta read before you go on to the story. First, there's sexually explicit stuff here. If you're not old enough to vote, go on to the next message. Better yet, unsubscribe to this discussion group. Gwan, kid, shoo! And that goes double if sexually explicit stories are illegal where you are! Second, this story includes a description of somebody getting killed for sexual pleasure - maybe the killer's pleasure, maybe the victim's. Either way, this isn't milk and cookies. If you don't want to read about such things, go away and read another message. Third, this is a work of <u>fiction</u>! No actual people or animals were harmed in the writing of this story. Fourth, don't try this stuff at home. You could end up dead! Over 200 people a year die playing with asphyxia in the USA. That's not counting the rest of the world. Remember, I didn't *make* you read this story. If you think it's badly written, that's one thing. But if you don't like stories about people getting strangled to death while having sex, don't blame anybody but yourself. Here's some blank space to give you a chance to skip to the next message. After that, you're on your own. Summary: This story contains descriptions of a man being murdered by hanging. Non-consensual. A WINTER VACATION by Matthew It's a sunny January morning on a small island in the Caribbean. Without warning, massive rioting has broken out in the capitol, and murderous mobs are roaming the streets, completely out of control. Matt and Damien are fleeing for their lives, trying to get out of the city in a tiny Fiat that they took a short while ago from the hotel they were staying in. They don't know one another, having met only the day before when they arrived at the hotel for a cut-rate package holiday. Matt is at the wheel, driving as fast as he can up and down the narrow streets. They're hopelessly lost. Suddenly the street in front of them is blocked by a mob, which immediately starts running towards them. Matt swerves into an even narrower side street, only to run head-on into a barricade. They're trapped! Both men jump out of the car and desperately try to climb over the pile of rubble as the mob surges into the street behind them. Damien manages to get to over the barricade and starts running down the street on the other side. Behind him he can hear Matt screaming over the noise of the wildly cheering mob. "No! No! Please!" Matt pleads, his voice shrill with terror, "I don't want to die!" Damien doesn't look back as he runs full tilt down the street. He gets almost half a block before he runs straight into another mob. Laughing and jeering, the mob surrounds Damien, grabbing his arms and legs and pulling at his clothes. Within moments he's been stripped naked. While some of the crowd fights for possession of his clothes, others tie his hands behind his back and start dragging him away. Damien can see nothing through the press of the crowd and has no idea where he's going as he's pushed and dragged through the streets. The din is deafening as the crowd shouts, chants, and sings in their incomprehensible French patois. After what seems an eternity, the crowd suddenly parts in front of him, and Damien finds himself staring in horror at a man's body hanging by the neck from the spar of a telegraph pole. It's Matt, of course. Clad only in red bikini underwear, his body twists slowly back and forth, hands bound behind, bare feet dangling a full six feet above the dusty ground. The face is contorted in the agony of death by slow strangulation: the tongue hangs out of the gaping mouth, and the wide-open eyes bulge from their sockets. The skimpy briefs do nothing to conceal the erect cock that strains against the thin clinging nylon. There are a number of women gathered around the pole, pointing up at Matt's body and laughing. When they spot Damien being dragged forward, they clap their hands and start to cheer. "Make him dance! Make him dance!" they chant, jumping up and down in their excitement. Another rope is thrown over the spar. Damien struggles desperately, begging for his life. "Oh, please, no!" he pleads, almost sobbing, "Please don't! Please!" He screams in terror as the noose is pulled over his head. He's still screaming when the rope bites into his neck, silencing him forever. The crowd cheers as Damien is hoisted into the air. And there he hangs, swinging back and forth at the end of the rope, his feet waving around, trying to reach the ground below. As he struggles the rope grows tighter and tighter around his neck, forcing his tongue from his mouth. His wide-open eyes bulge in agony. He starts to kick, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Soon his cock begins to swell, throbbing visibly as it grows longer and thicker, its bulbous head rising higher and higher. He starts to dance, his legs jerking spastically up and down, feet fluttering like a ballerina's. The wide, bulging eyes are now fixed in a death stare. The hips begin to pump, thrusting rhythmically in grotesque parody of the motions of sex. Below, the women laugh and clap, pointing up at Damien's swollen cock. "Such a good dancer!" they jeer, "And such a fine man!" Finally, the legs stop kicking, and the body stiffens, shuddering. The hips thrust forward a final time, the jerking cock spurting copiously in a death orgasm, splattering the cheering women below. A few days later photographs appear in newspapers around the world. They show two male corpses hanging side by side, staring bug-eyed in death. One is clad only in tiny bikini briefs; the other is stark naked, its rock-hard cock pointing up at the sky. =========================================================== Did you like this story? You can find more at http://www.nyx.net/~anon3a9c/fair/entry.ssi -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+