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Keywords: strangulation, breath control, bondage(mild), whipping
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From: anon3a9c@nyx10.nyx.net (Damien)
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Subject: {ASSM} ASA Story: How to Handle Her (M/F, gasping) (REPOST)
Date: Sun, 16 Jan 2000 00:10:01 -0500
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This story was written by Ozymandius. 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 is a work of <u>fiction</u>! No actual people or animals were
harmed in the writing of this story.
Third, 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 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 includes descriptions of a woman being whipped,
and having sex while being strangled. Non-lethal, consensual.
How to Handle Her
Copyright 1995 by Ozymandius
I have to admit, it was an interesting way to be hooked up, but it
was well worth it. We had known each other for several years, but neither
of us had ever expressed an interest in the other outright. Until her
roommate, with whom I was doing a show, told me she had asked how to get
me to go out with her on a friendly date. So the friend in the show asked
me to just call her. So I did. When I did, she was nonplussed, but
simply asked, "So when are you free?"
"When do you want me to be free?"
"Don't be a smartass. What about tonight?"
No slow worker, this one. "Okay, your place at, say, seven?"
"Cool. Dress is casual. Don't plan on keeping your clothes on
all night."
Whoa! This girl was abrupt! "No problem," I said, wondering what
the hell she had in mind. I knew she had a reputation for the bizarre,
but who was I to judge? I knew what I liked, and for all I knew, she
might like the same.
Smartly at seven, I arrived at her apartment to find her in a
tight red sweater, showing off her newly acquired body. She had lost more
than fifty pounds in the past year, although none of it was lost from her
breasts. Red hair to the shoulder, and a short red skirt under the
sweater, and her whole body glowed. Red leggings, red heels, and for the
kicker, a red lace cameo choker (I was really enjoying the fact that this
little item was so much in vogue). She was not wearing the glasses that I
occasionally saw perched on her nose, which made no difference, since the
first thing you saw when she walked up was not her eyes.
"Well? Are ya just gonna stand there, or are you coming in?"
I stepped in, slowly, still not sure what was going on. "Where
are your roomies?"
She smirked. "Oh, they all went out for the night. We've got the
place to ourselves." She turned on some music, Pearl Jam, loudly enough
to cover several other noises in the building. "Come on, I made food."
"Food? What for?"
"Well, you're gonna need your strength tonight. Sit. Pasta con
broccoli, with a generous helping of mushrooms to build up the sexual
appetite." She didn't beat around the bush! "To drink, I thought wine
would be nice, but I figured we should have some hard stuff to chase it
with." She poured two shots of Southern Comfort. "Here, to fucking like
animals."
"Cheers." I downed it. Southern Comfort is famous for picking
up the libido, and everything else in the room was made to order for a
night of unending sex. I smelled trap, but I was too turned on to even
try doing anything about it. She downed hers, then poured herself another
and passed me the bottle.
"Not yet. I don't want to lose control too soon."
"Oh, don't worry. You'll have complete control soon enough."
That was certainly an enigmatic statement! "Let's eat. I'm starved."
Obviously, food wasn't the only thing she was starving for.
We dug into our food, which was wonderful, and then settled down
in the living room for a drink. She poured two more shots, then settled
down on the couch next to me, leaning on my shoulder and looking into my
eyes like a poor lost kitten.
"Do you find me attractive?" I was about to sputter my answer,
then realized where this was going. I decided not to play her game, and
instead started one of my own.
"You know I do. But why haven't you said anything until now?"
She flitted her eyes. "I don't know. Maybe it's because I didn't
realize until recently how much I wanted you, and after A. told me about
your... past." Hmmm. Just what had her roomie said?
"Well, I don't really advertise, but I had always thought maybe
you and I would have the right chemistry. You know, though, that I'm not
Mr. Socially Outgoing."
"I know. That's why I finally just said, fuck it, and told A. to
tell you to call me. I almost didn't believe it when you did, though."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"I don't know. I'm just glad you did." Was this a side I had
never seen before, or was she playing me for a sap? I stood my ground.
"Well, you wanted me here tonight pretty badly. So what's the
real story?"
"Ummm, just what I said. I want to see what it would be like."
"A. doesn't know what kinds of things I like, does she? But I'll
bet you do. I'll bet you like them too."
She stroked herself, teasingly. "I'll bet. Think you can handle
me?"
"Yes."
We kissed. She moved her hand over my crotch, feeling a raging
erection. Slowly she unzipped the fly, and kissed the head of my cock as
it raced out of its cage. Her silken lips encircled the head, and slid
down the length, her tongue fluttering the scrotum on each pass. I felt
I would lose my load there, but she stopped, and looked straight at me.
"I like it rough."
"Good."
"Do you like it rough?"
"Yes."
"Top or bottom?"
"Top."
"Have you ever strangled anybody before?"
Caught offguard but enthralled, I said, "Yes."
"During sex?"
"Yes."
"Could you handle me?"
"Absolutely."
"So. Handle me."
I kissed her. Our tongues met, then danced in her mouth as I
grabbed her breasts. I could feel that she was not wearing a bra under
that sweater, and her nipples were already hard. It was not from the
cold, either. I reached for her throat, putting my hands around her neck,
and gently pressed my thumbs into her. She moaned softly, and her tongue
got more excited. I squeezed, and she began to gasp as we kissed, but her
tongue never slowed, getting in fact more excited by the second.
She pulled back. "That's fine, but I want to continue this in
back. My room." She took my hand, grabbed the Southern Comfort, and led
me to her room.
Her room was already dimly lit with candles, but I could see her
bed covered in a sleek red silk sheet. I also saw, with some excitement,
that there were handcuffs on the top two metal posts, already latched. To
the bottom two posts, I saw leather straps connected to loops, which I
recognized as ankle restraints. Above the bed on the wall, in reach of
the bed, was a shelf with a whip and a short length of rope. She set the
bottle down on a table next to the bed, then beckoned me to the bed with a
single finger.
"C'mere. Handle me some more."
I moved to the bed, lying down on top of her, and kissed her again
deeply. I began to fondle her breasts, but she moved my hands to her
moist clit, which was, I now noticed, unencumbered by panties. I rubbed
her clit softly, sliding a finger in and out of her, and she moaned softly.
I now noticed that the music had been turned down, and offered to go and
turn it back up.
"Forget it. Don't worry about it. Nobody will hear us, or, at
least, they won't hear me."
We kissed again, and I began to remove her sweater. Her breasts
bounced as the fabric slid over and off of them, and I saw for the first
time, nipples as large as old dollar coins, and as hard as my cock. I
began to nibble on them, then bite them, as she moaned and sighed.
"Harder."
I began to bite her nipples hard now, feeling my teeth bury into
her flesh. I sucked each one raw, but she just moaned ever the more,
getting more and more excited as I got rougher and rougher.
"Restrain me."
I nodded, not stopping the force on her breasts, but grabbing her
wrists one at a time, placing them in the cuffs. When they were both in
metal, I moved down to her ankles, placing them in their appropriate
restraint. Then I began to lick her all over, starting at her toes,
moving to her knee, then her clit, and finally to her belly button. When
I reached her stomach, I deftly removed her skirt, which was simply
snapped on at the waist, and flung it to the ground.
"Fuck me hard."
I stood up on my knees between her legs, undoing my belt, and
slid my jeans down and off. Those, too, went to the floor. Then I slowly
slid my cock into her, rocking into and out of her already very wet hole.
She moaned loudly, and I picked up the pace. I built up to a rhythm, and
she began to moan even louder. I stopped.
"Why'd you stop?" She shouted.
"Because you're gonna have the cops here with your moaning," I
retorted. I knew she wanted me in control.
"Well, then, keep me quiet."
I grinned. I slid back into her, then lay on top of her and built
up a rhythm again, until I felt myself spasming. I pulled out, coming on
her stomach, and she yelped.
"What the fuck was that? I haven't even gotten started."
"Don't worry, neither have I."
First, I cleaned the come off of her stomach with tissue. Then,
when I started removing her restraints, she groaned desultorily. When
she was free, she sat up, arms crossed.
"Maybe this isn't what I wanted. You should just go."
I grabbed the whip. Deftly, I unraveled it in front of her. She
stared, but repeated, "Just go."
"No. I'm not done, and neither are you. Turn over."
She whimpered, but lay down on her stomach.
"On all fours. Up." She didn't move. I cracked the whip on her
sexy ass. She yelped. I repeated, "Up!" more forcefully, and she stood
up on all fours.
I climbed back on the bed, behind her, and slowly entered her.
She moaned, but pouted at me over her shoulder. I threw back a glance
that would have made my mother back off. I grabbed her hips, pulling them
toward my crotch, and she moaned loudly again. Slowly, I built up a
rhythm to the music that was barely audible in the other room. She leaned
her head back, moaning so loudly that the wall creaked. I grabbed her
hair, and began to thrust madly. She began to moan and yell as I did so,
and I didn't stop her for the moment. Suddenly I slowed, and she looked
over her shoulder at me.
"What, is that it?"
I grinned. "Hardly." I reached above her head, and grabbed the
rope that was there. Slowly, I placed it around her neck, looping it two
times. She looked at me, but made no noise. Slowly, I began to thrust
again, tightening the rope as I did.
"Think you'll stay quiet now?"
She tried to reply, but I stopped her with a quick tug, and she
gagged. Instead, she thrust against me forcefully, almost begging me to
do my worst. I thrust into her again and again, slowly tightening the
rope around her neck as I did. She tried to moan loudly, but couldn't
get more than a gasp out. In halting tones, she said, "Make it last a
while. I love being light-headed." I tugged the rope more, but not too
much, and she threw her head back, asking for more. Still holding the
rope, I grabbed two handfuls of hair and pulled, eliciting an excited
gasp from her. I pounded into her harder, not tightening the rope too
much, until an eternity seemed to pass, and she came, jism running down
our legs. I didn't stop.
She wheezed. "I came!"
"I'm not finished. Keep going."
She gasped, a long, excited gasp, and pushed back into me. I
continued to plunge into her roughly, and tightened the rope around her
neck. She began to grunt, but stayed with it, urging me to make it ever
tighter. She began to wheeze.
"I'm going."
I tightened the rope more, pulling back as if they were reins, and
she jumped slightly.
"I'm going."
I thrust in earnest, feeling myself build to the point of no
return. I was about to pull out, when she said...
"I'm gone..."
She went limp on the rope, I pulled out of her and sprayed on her
fine ass. She crumpled onto her arms, and I quickly loosened the rope
from her neck. I turned her over onto her back, and lifted her head so
she wouldn't swallow her tongue, then lightly kissed her. She coughed
and wheezed, the color slowly returning to her face, and looked at me with
red eyes that matched her earlier outfit.
"Is that how I should handle you?"
She smiled grandly. "Ohhhh, yes!" She took a big breath, and I
kissed her once more, deeply. She then said, "Just how much work will it
take to get handled like this more often?"
"Well," I said, "That depends on how much you like to cook."
===========================================================
Did you like this story? You can find more at
http://www.nyx.net/~anon3a9c/fair/entry.ssi
The author would also like to hear about it. You can write me and
I'll pass it on to the author. Remember, feedback from the readers
is the only "payment" the author gets.
But if you think stories about people getting strangled or hanged, even
killed, during sex are icky and shouldn't exist, don't come whining to me.
Why did you read it if you don't like stories of that type?
--
A. P. Damien
Replies directly to this address will NOT be anonymized.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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