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From: "K" <karinthiarose@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Lady's Chamber (FFM, bondage, nc, oral, cbt, no sex, snuff?)
Date: Wed, 18 Sep 2002 20:10:02 -0400
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This belongs to Karinthia and SimplyJ
Do not repost anywhere without permission
karinthiarose@hotmail.com

"We hope you enjoy this as much as we did ... and do"
   SimplyJ

The Lady's Chamber
---

Imagine the death watch cell and the execution chamber. Imagine the lady of
the manor... though her home estate is of our time, She has medieval powers
of justice, including capital punishment.  Imagine the condemned:  Kneeling,
spreader barred at the legs, singlearm glove---> and the wrist of his
singlearm locked to spreader bar.

A bondage helmet serves as the death hood; but the Lady of the manor has yet
to snap and strap its blindfold into place.  The condemned can still see.

The Lady of the manor has touched the steel of her execution sword to the
condemned's skin.  The condemned has but one appeal to the lady of the
manor.  He must satisfy her...

... and so our story begins ...

She steps close enough that her skirts caress the heels of his boots. The
smell of her perfume lightly swirls in the air around him. He's desperate.
He's got one chance to save his own life. She is the only thing between him
and the blade at his neck.

His mouth has not yet been gagged.  His face angles upward and he asks  "How
may I serve you and back away from condemnation?"

With a tapping finger to her lips, she circles him. Contemplating his
usefulness. Her hand lightly brushes his shoulder, caresses the sleeve
holding his arms in place. Stopping directly in front of him, her skirts
tickle his nose. He can smell her arousal at this point.

He leans as far forward as he can within his bonds.  He feels his lips touch
her skirts and then touch her skin through her skirts. She feels him mouth
"Please, may I?"

Reaching her hand out, her hand gently caresses the back of his head. Her
actions, so gentle and feminine, only reinforced how much power little hands
could wield. With the steel always within his eyesight, she allows him
entrance.

As she lifts her skirts, she also calls a leaning bed forward, that she may
recline while he works to save himself.  When her back is comfortably
nestled in the not quite vertical mattress, she grasps a pair of crutches,
places them under her arms, and nestles their feet into floor sockets.
Sadly, she has been disappointed before, and the floor shows the crimson of
her displeasure.  Even so she always enters the death chamber trusting her
condemned to earn his commutation of sentence.

His lips no longer touch the silky brocade of her skirt; she has given him
her labia.  He finds it with it natural growth of hair; she believes her men
should be able to barber it with their tongues. He starts kissing and
lightly licking, to wet the hair and part it aside. Even as he exposes the
slit of her womanhood for further explorations, he feels her move her
pelvis, adjusting him to her best comfort.

She could see his shoulders arch, trying to wiggle in his bonds enough to
have ease while he lapped at her. How many times she had seen them all bound
up and it never failed to thrill her. Seeing these big strong, even powerful
men brought low before her. She took their willpower and mutated it to a
survival instinct that fed at her crotch.

With her hand upon the back of his head, she directed him to find her
pleasure. Would this one be different? Her hand draped the sword over his
back, one more reminder of his place in this life.

He flinches at the cold steel, but kisses her with a will.  He allows
himself to nibble the outer folds of her nether region, even as his tongue
starts to penetrate the slit and find the warmth of her pink membranes ...
to savor the metallic taste of yet unlubricated skin.

At his tentative approach, she smiles. Then with her voice ringing out
crystal clear in the death watch cell.. she begins to count slowly.

10...

<drags his head in tighter>

9...

<nick> a light flick to the meat of his shoulder

8...

"You had better do a *very* good job, little soldier. I'd hate to have you
lose your head over such a small matter"

"STOP!"

He looks up, confused.  He thought he had been working his way to doing her
very good job.

"You've reached the final eight count of your life.  I'm going to give you
another incentive to do that *very* good job."

She reaches to an easy table, taking the blindfold for his death hood from
it.  As she sets the initial snaps, he hears "<snap> One, little soldier.  I
want your tongue deep in me when we continue. <snap> Two: You should know I
am no longer dry; I anticipate heartily your service. <snap> Three:  You
will find soon I enjoy myself copiously, you must take me all. <snap> Four:
In a moment, feel me bring you where you belong, little soldier."

She takes a moment more, securing the two point buckles on each side. The
condemned now can neither see nor have any chance of seeing without her
express action.

He feels her hand, lightly on his neck, so very delicate.  She brings him
back to her, leans back on her bedwall, and slowly, oh so slowly, adjusts
his tongue until it will exactly touch her clitoris.

She sets her arms back in the crutches, drapes the sword to his back again,
and sweetly tells him "Begin, and remember, you are on the count."

He laps to her clitoris with a passion.  He tastes the warmth and saltiness
of her love juices.  He's known women before, but this is different ... her
taste is delicate, yet it comes plentifully.

He decides to take a risk.  He extends the lap of his tongue from her
clitoris into her vulva.  At one, it caresses, and he even dares to nibble.
At the other, it probes a little deeper, seeking to feed from her wonderful
juice.

He feels her squirm, and pleads in his heart that he is improving.

Then, he feels the sharp slap of blade on his rump:

"7!"

"Keep going, that is motivation.  My victory gains you your life. My
countdown gains your neck my steel."

With his face burrowed in the juncture of her thighs, the little soldier
lapped at her.  With his eyes blind, his whole world narrowed down to the
point of his tongue. He could feel the ground beneath his knees. He could
feel the warmth of her thighs as they encased him. But, the one thing that
called to him, made him feel a part of this earth was the fluid dripping off
of his lips.

His tongue formed a scoop and he stabbed at her, trying desperately to catch
every drop that this woman gave him.

If someone had stepped into the room, they would have seen a smile forming
on the face of the Lady of the manor.  She decided to take the sword from
his back, using the leather thong on its hilt to conveniently hang it on her
support crutches.  This one was good; she was feeling waves of pleasure the
last three men had failed to give.

Her smile sneered a moment as she realized how so very easily it had been to
lop off their heads.

As he continued use his tongue to lap her fluids and to touch her skin, his
teeth found her clitoris.  He was desperate; he could not know whether he
was succeeding or failing.  He nibbled her engorged clit, once, oh so
tentatively.

As she felt the nibble, it sent a deep wave through her of delight. Her
body, involuntarily, rewarded him with more of her love juice, even as her
thighs pressed inward to lock his face in squarely on her womanhood.  'This
one is good;' she thought.  'Do I offer him immediate transgendering and
assignment to the guards' brothel, assignment to my inner office as the
moving part of my desk chair ... my cunnilingus desk chair, or my .. '

"YEOWCH!" she involuntarily cried!  His enthusiasm had gone too far; he had
not nibbled her erotically, his mouth had actually bit down on her vulva...

A shiver of pure dread worked its way down his spin as he felt her hands
grasp him by the roots of his hair and pull him away from her body.

"You incompetent boob!" she screamed in his face. "Don't you realize just
*what* is at stake here? Your very life! For the first time, pure excellence
is being demanded from you and you err!"

He can feel the bite of the sword lash it's way across his chest as she
wielded it with perfect expertise. As he hunched over in agony, his face was
again pressed tight to her hairy crotch.

"6..."

The Lady of the manor pressed a button on one of her crutches ... "My dear
ladies in waiting ... send for the cremation box and the removal team.  Our
little soldier here is not winning his war."

She took her hands and pressed him tighter to his crotch.

"You should know this, little soldier.  5.  You had earned my patience and
even indulgence, almost.  Now, the count is past midpoint. It's a simple
demand, little soldier.  Comply, and know that the count continues.  4."

She felt the shiver of his body; a shiver of utter fear.

He stretches his shoulders against the armbinder, and the armbinder against
the spreader bar, to get just another eighth of an inch into her depths.

She feels him ... feels him want her, feels him want her from fear.  The
shivers of his fear, and the stretching of his body to comply, are as
sensual to her as the lapping of his tongue.  She thinks 'this one is the
most enjoyable in a long time.  I really hope he does not muck up again; I
want him for my office chair.'

She clenches the handgrips of her crutches as the first larger wave of
erotic ecstasy ripples through her body...

She could smell his fear mingling with her more pungent scent of arousal and
the both combined were enough to set off small explosions within her.

His tongue, which had been licking slowly and intensely along her slit
picked up speed, trying to catch every bit of nectar that she produced. He
could FEEL her twat twitching as she came.

With his nose pressed ever deeper, he started feeling her cream leak into
every part open orifice. Gulping, choking, smothering, she came on him.

"Oh, that's a good boy. You caught that quite well for being so ill
prepared!" She complimented him.

"Let's see if you are just as eager and studious to catch this" she said as
his mouth slowly started to fill with her golden nectar.

His mind spun, trying to both drink her as well as figure out his fate. At
one moment, it seemed that he was going to feel the cold sharpness of her
steel at his neck.  At the next, her soothing voice and quivering body
implied he was gaining a chance at his life.

He allowed himself an inner smile, and decided to form an image in his mind.
As the image of his Lady and Wardress formed in his mind, he felt his
scrotal sac close up, his shaft redden and harden, and his ducts switch from
carrying his waste to carrying his seed.  He smiled at the inner thought,
and raced to eat her.  She had won the battle for his mind; he wanted ALL
she would give him.  His mouth raced to lick her loveliness, to taste her
complexity.

The Lady of the manor felt him, and allowed herself relaxation, that she
might have waves again.  'Indeed, this little soldier is good' she mused.
With her head lowered now, to take his depth of tongue, she noticed his
manhood rising.  'So pretty, I wonder if he knows he's broken a death
chamber rule?  I guess he'll learn in a moment.'

She presses the button on her crutch again:  "Lady in waiting Caroline, come
here ... and bring your toolbox."

At once the door opens, and a young lady comes in.

"Ahhhh... Caroline, look to his need, please."

"Yes, my Lady.  I see it.  Our normal protocol?"

"Certainly."

At once, Caroline goes to a waiting ladder, and climbs down to the floor
below.  She steps on a pneumatic lift, which takes her back up to the
ceiling, where she opens a small trap door ... right underneath his
manhood....

Licking knowing his life depends on it, the condemned feels the trapdoor
open.   Suddenly, his erection and his sac are unsupported in mid-air.  He
feels his balls grasped, and then squeezed.  He concentrates now, he must
not let the feeling interfere with his task  ... she's already jumped the
count.

Caroline takes a length of soft cotton cord, and begins her task. First, she
binds off his scrotum from his body, leaving just enough room for a pair of
shears, should the Lady decide on a slow execution today.  Then, she
continues the binding, and isolates each of his precious balls in their sac.
As she does this the condemned's' family jewels stand out bright and shiny.
Finally, she checks to be sure: six feet of the rope dangle off, so she may
finish the protocol.

Caroline looks upward, and realizes her standing permission from the Lady of
the Manor:  She grips the condemned's' manhood, lowers it so she can have
it, and takes but a single, deep, loving kiss of its head. Then, she wraps
his shaft almost back to its joining to the pelvis, and ties the rope off,
again leaving six feet for the protocol.  She kisses his now fully engorged
head oh so lightly, then places the ropes on  the floor above, and shuts the
trap.

Returning in a moment up the ladder, Caroline asks "May I continue, my
Lady?"

"Most certainly."

As our little soldier continues to drink of the warmth of the Lady's lust,
he feels a gentle hand caress his inner thigh.  It is Caroline, deliberately
enticing him as she passes the ropes back across the spreader bar.  She
takes the ropes and ties them off to her Lady's  crutch... where they may be
easily pulled.

"Thank you, Caroline, you may ahhhhhh... depart."

"Yes, My Lady."

The Lady of the Manor lets one more wave float over her, drinks in the
ecstasy, and then decides to pull his cords...

With the feeling of the rope binding it up, all his awareness, all of his
bodies' sensations ran between his legs. The beginning numbness in his arms
was forgotten, as was the moisture dripping from his chin.

The rope fit her hand well. Time and time again, she had held it just so.
But this time, this time there was a very worthy opponent at the other end.
She could see his body  swaying as he knelt between her legs. She could feel
his desperation as his mouth dipped between her legs. With her hand
clutching the rope tighter, she gently, gently started to pull it close.

His body reacted by trying to snuggle between her legs even closer. His ass
swayed, but was completely pinned to place by the ropes that graced him. His
tongue, oh his wonderful greedy tongue, spurred on to new depths from the
pain at his groin, pressed up tighter against her opening, till the whole of
his mouth covered her entrance.  Warm, hot, living breath was expelled into
her canal. She knew that the only thing he was now breathing was tinged of
her essence.

She pulled the rope tighter, till she could see him scrambling on his knees
to keep his face pressed to her.

She pulls just a bit tighter, and he finally lets out a low cry of pain.
The cry was just what the Lady of the manor wanted:  An excuse.

"Oh, you poor little soldier.  I've hurt you.  I think you need to put the
pain out of your mind.  3."

The condemned's' emotions are no longer his own.  His fear manifests itself
in his squirming, in his struggle to get his mouth on her womanhood and
bring her to her ultimate ecstasy.  He forces the pain of his balls and his
manhood to the depths of his mind.  He breaks the seal of his lips upon the
union of her legs, gasps for air, and returns to his task.

The Lady of the manor shudders.  They do it every time, and her fetish is
their fear.  She is ready; her knees are buckling.  She wants THIS wave of
pleasure to be big, and she lets her body ride the joy as she loses her
motor control.  She is so thankful she changed from a throne to the bed-wall
last year; the feelings are twice as intense.

With her remaining self-control, the Lady of the manor presses the call
button again ...

"My lady in waiting Caroline," she nearly chokes out in a voice filled with
delight and with labor, "I wish for you to return.  I wish for you to take
him, even as he is taking me."

"Of course, my lady.  My very pleasure.  A stiff and shiny manhood under
tension has no better taste in this world."

The little soldier shudders in reaction to their comments spoken above his
head. Their lack of concern over his feelings and wishes only underline the
dire straits he now finds himself in. With his cock throbbing in rhythm with
the sweep of his tongue, he sets to with an absolute passion. Engulfed with
her taste, he vows to ignore anything Caroline does to him to keep his life.

He hears Caroline walk in, he hears her heels click on the hard floor to the
ladder and then with a breath waiting in anticipation, he feels a feather
light touch upon his scrotum.  Gently she touched him, just enough to
capture his attention. Pressing his mouth even tighter against the Lady of
he Manor, his knees shook with the effort not to respond. A soldier's life
doesn't allow for much free time, so it had been a very long time since he
had found relief upon any woman.

His lips found her clit and he rolled it gently between them, just as he
felt the mouth on him mimic his actions. Impossible! In an abortive maneuver
designed to confuse the enemy, something he was definitely seeing Caroline
as, his tongue extended as far as it was able and simply started stabbing it
in the Lady of the Manor. He wanted to end this as the fear started riding
him harder.

In one moment, he felt every sensation they were forcing upon him: The sweat
running down the back of his neck, the dreadful ache in his shoulder blades,
the pain his knees felt as they were grinding into the hard ground and the
arousal that dripped from her into his waiting, hungry mouth. He tried to
bury the arousal he felt at being completely helpless, but with each dip of
Caroline's mouth upon him, it battered his poor soldiers resolve like a
sledgehammer.

The Lady of the manor feels the condemneds' fear, feels him taking her,
feels him concentrating to avoid Caroline.  She decides it is time: Time to
savor him in all his fear, and in all the delight he has given her.  She
checks to make sure the crutches will bear her full weight, takes stock of
the comfort of her back upon the bed-wall, and relaxes completely, allowing
her union to relax fully onto his face.  As she does, she allows his licking
to bring wave after wave over her.  The Lady of the manor has again achieved
ecstasy.  Her moans, though only audible to Caroline and the condemned, fill
the chamber.  Her legs have gone weak as wet concrete; she has arrived.  She
grips with her
arm strength upon the crutches, and swings her legs over the condemneds'
shoulders.  She feels the wave of a fully crashing orgasm ripple through her
body.  He has DONE IT!!  He has achieved her ecstasy before his own
inevitable orgasm.

Caroline loves to have men in her mouth, especially men under fear.  She
watches all that happens above, and sets to her task with desire.  As
Caroline begins, she wonders whether the Lady of the manor will be generous
this time, as she has so many times before, or whether she will consider
that the condemned, though he doesn't know it, is in negative numbers on
what is truly a five count.

With his mouth full of Her, he gulps and swallows, trying to ignore the
mouth that is playing him so expertly. When he feels his hips start to
twitch, to try and inch closer to that warm willing fuckhole, he bits his
lip cruelly to stop his slide to his own destruction.

With an evil wink from the Lady of the Manor as a signal, Caroline yawns
hugely and engulfs him completely.  Pinned to the back of her throat, she
massages him expertly as he starts to shudder.  Shouting his heartfelt agony
over the impending orgasm he knows he can't withhold, he feels the Lady of
the Manor shifting. He can feel one arm raise, while the other pulls the
back of his head deeper into her. Now, with every vocal outpouring of
anguish being made, she can feel it pouring directly into the heart of her.

Caroline ups the ante of the evil game they had concocted between them and
starts slipping him faster and faster between her lips. Always ending with
him being wedged deeply imbedded in her throat. He howls and tries to wiggle
free, knowing that if he fails.. oh, if he fails this one quest, it will
mean the end of him.

The Lady of the Manor almost swoons from the feel of his mouth crying out so
while pressed tight against her cunt. Never before had she felt such
pleasure in the eating of someone's fear. Her hand raised into position.

Caroline dipped her head repeatedly while trying to get this little soldier
to cum. When she tasted the pure essence of him drip onto her tongue, she
knew she had him. With her hand slightly raised, she signaled to the Lady of
the Manor.

In a maneuver that would have graced any battlefield, they took him down.
The minute he lost control of his body and handed it to them, the Sword
kissed him.

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