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Message-ID: <32556asstr$1000869002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "A. P. Damien" <APDamien@mediaone.net>
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 18 Sep 2001 18:06:05 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} ASA Story: Wealth (M/FFFF, oral, hanging, snuff, semi-cons)
Date: Tue, 18 Sep 2001 23:10:03 -0400
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I want to start with an announcement before I get to Darlene's story.

There are twelve new stories by two new authors at my Story Fair. Eleven
by Darlene, one by Tom2.

http://www.nyx.net/~anon3a9c/fair/

If you're looking for the new stuff, go to the Information Booth, then
to "What's New". 



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>

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