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Message-ID: <33225asstr$1004789402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Keywords: hanging, snuff, breath control
From: anon3a9c@nyx10.nyx.net (Damien)
Cache-Post-Path: irys.nyx.net!anon3a9c@nyx10.nyx.net
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 02 Nov 2001 10:14:51 MST
Subject: {ASSM} ASA Story: Wealth (M/FFFF, oral, hanging, snuff, semi-cons)
Date: Sat,  3 Nov 2001 07:10:02 -0500
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

This story was written by Darlene.  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.

























   Wealth

   by Darlene

   Copyright by the author.  Feel free to download this story, but do not
charge for its use.  The story was inspired by a picture I once saw.  To
the artist, who I've been unable to identify, my thanks for the thoughts
you've provoked.

   =======================================================

   His staff had explained what was expected of her.  He certainly liked
things structured.  Claire entered from the back.  The room was dim, set up
like a small nightclub.  Music played softly.  Only one table was occupied.
He sat alone in the glow of a candle.  His waiter stood in the shadows.

   Claire saw the three women.  All of them wore what she did; a slim
garter belt, stockings, nothing else.  Individual pin spots lit them. 
Placed well apart, facing the room, hands bound behind them, each stood on
a small shelf protruding from the wall.  The little shelves were about two
feet off the floor.  Claire knew they could retract into the wall.

   The nooses around the women's necks put a catch in Claire's breath. 
Attached ropes, climbing to the ceiling, were taut enough to slightly raise
the women's chins.  The woman on the right was a natural redhead, confirmed
by the trim nest of hair at her center.  The others had dark hair, like
Claire's.  Their figures under the lights were clear against the black
walls.

   Claire didn't know what had led the other women here.  She really didn't
care.  For herself, the whispered stories had been impossible to resist. 
Her heart was beating fast with anticipation.  She pressed her thighs
together for a moment.  This was a setting from a dream, she thought.  It
must be nice to have all that money.

   His waiter led her to his table.  He was in his thirties, younger than
she expected, and better looking.  The table was placed to his right.  She
knelt at his left.

   "Stand up please.  Your name is Claire?" he asked.

   "Yes sir."

   "You know my rules?"

   "Yes sir.  If I don't please you, I go on the wall next time."

   "I understand you'd like to touch these women first.  Is that correct?"

   A bit reluctantly, Claire allowed that was so.

   "We'll see about that shortly.  Right now, there's something I'd like
you to put on."

   The waiter brought him a black silk cord with silver knobs at the ends.
Near one end the cord had a perforation like a button hole, and the other
end had been passed through it.  This formed the cord into a loop,
something like a string tie.  He passed the loop over Claire's head, and
adjusted it comfortably at her throat.

   "There, much better," he murmured.

   Claire liked her tie.

   He asked her to pick out one of the women on the wall.  She chose the
prettiest, the one on the left.

   "Her name is Joni.  She's not allowed to speak," he explained, "but you
may touch her."

   He handed Claire a black velvet ribbon and quietly gave her
instructions, patting her bare backside as she left his table.  Starting on
the right, she looked up at the first woman and waited until she had her
attention.

   "Hello, I'm Claire," she said, and brushed the woman's hip with her
hand. She repeated this introduction with the second woman.

   When she reached the woman on the left, the prettiest one, she waited
longer before beginning.

   "Joni, my name is Claire.  I know you can't talk to me, so I'll watch
your face." She lifted a hand and stroked Joni's breasts, first one and
then the other.  She ran her hands slowly up and down Joni's sides a few
times, lingering at the curve of her buttocks.  The black ribbon trailed
from Claire's fingers.  Joni's breath came faster, but she remained silent.
Claire came back to her breasts, this time caressing the thick erect
nipples.  Their eyes were locked, with Joni having to lower hers.  She
couldn't tilt her head down because of the pressure of the noose.  Claire
tied the black ribbon around Joni's right arm, just above the elbow.

   Moving her hands again, Claire was about to fondle the woman's pussy
when she changed her mind.  Ducking her head, she ran her tongue through
the little patch of fur just above Joni's clean shaven slit.  Her tongue
moved down, pushing into the slit.  She could taste and smell the arousal.
Joni broke her silence and gasped.  Holding Joni's hips, taking her time,
Claire used her lips and tongue until the woman was close to coming.  Then
she stopped, and straightened.  Looking up into the woman's eyes again, she
smiled before she spoke.

   "Do you think there's an afterlife, Joni?  Or when you die, is that it?
There's nothing ever again?"

   While working the woman's wet pussy, Claire had almost come herself
thinking about what he had told to ask.

   Returning to his table, she found he'd slanted his chair closer to
Joni's direction.  He'd also undone his pants.  His penis was out and hard.
His waiter appeared, and bound Claire's wrists behind her.  The waiter
helped her kneel at his left again.  Her back was to Joni, which
disappointed her.  She could only see the first two women.  At his nod, she
bowed and licked his cock, starting at the bottom.  When she reached the
crown, his fingers took her head and guided her mouth onto his shaft,
pushing her down until it lodged in her throat.

   Claire heard the spring of Joni's shelf retracting, and a choking sound
from that direction.  She choked a little herself, then at his urging began
a slow up and down movement.  She tried hard to give the most perfect head
she could.  Her lips pursed with suction, her tongue slid, she pooled and
rolled her spit.  At frequent intervals she used her throat like a vagina.
All the while she heard feet knocking on the wall as Joni strangled and
kicked.  Claire wanted to turn and watch, but she didn't dare.  From the
corner of her eye she could glimpse the other women.  Fear of joining
Joni's struggle was evident in their faces.

   After a while, the knocking sounds faded.  Joni was almost gone.  Claire
sensed he would come soon.  As his body stiffened, he told her not to
swallow and erupted in thick spurts.  She held his come, and swirled it
around his cock.  It was creamy and tasted hot and salty.  As the cock
gradually softened, she made a warm place for it with her mouth.

   Reminding Claire again not to swallow, he lifted her head and looked
down at her.

   "Did I please you sir?" she asked.

   Nodding that she had, he put his hands on her shoulders.

   "And I have a reward for you," he said.

   Grabbing the silver knobs on the cord around her neck, he pulled hard.
The cord dug into her neck, her mouth opened, and her lips made little
flexing movements.  He was happy to see that his come was still quite
visible in her mouth.  After less than a minute, as her face began to
darken, he released the tension on the cord.  Claire inhaled deeply and
repeatedly.

   "That's it, take some deep breaths.  The oxygen will help you last
longer," he noted coolly.  "We don't want to finish with you too soon."

   Claire felt sick.  Why was he doing this?  She'd pleased him.  She'd
passed her test.  She wanted him to excite her now.  Maybe this was his way
of doing that for her?  Seeing the look on his face as his hands grasped
the knobs again, she doubted it.  Then her breath was cut off as he drew
the cord as tight as he could.  He hummed quietly as he pulled, and enjoyed
the shock he saw in her expression.

   Her neck hurt terribly, in her mind she was begging him to stop.  She
fought the strap holding her wrists.  Her chest strained for air and
couldn't get any.  There was a heavy pressure in head.  It wasn't anything
like her imaginings.  She knew she couldn't stand it for long.  With her
lungs ready to burst, her vision faded.  She hated him.  Her last thoughts
before the darkness were the words he'd made her say to Joni.

   His table was empty, the candle blown out.  Two of the women were gone.
The lights were still dim.  The music still played.  There was a rhythmic
rustling and squeaking coming from a corner.

   A staff member was removing the tape from one of the cameras.

   Claire was lying on a couch when she woke.  The waiter's cock was moving
inside her.  Amazed to find herself alive, she began to move with him.  She
saw Joni hanging limp on the rope.  Looking at Joni's body, pumping against
the waiter, she brought herself to an overwhelming orgasm.  Maybe, she
thought, he'd invite her back some day.

   Did you like this story?  Why not <A
HREF="mailto:Darlene29x@hotmail.com?subject=Thinking of Uwe"> write Darlene
</A> -- A.  P.  Damien Replies directly to this address will NOT be
anonymized.  

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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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