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Message-ID: <36879asstr$1024578605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Keywords: hanging, strangulation, breath control, snuff
From: anon3a9c@nyx10.nyx.net (Damien)
Cache-Post-Path: irys.nyx.net!anon3a9c@nyx10.nyx.net
Subject: {ASSM} His Chair (M/F, strangulation, snuff, SC)
Date: Thu, 20 Jun 2002 09:10:05 -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

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.

























Summary: This story includes descriptions of a woman giving a blowjob
while her husband watches, a woman masturbating herself and then giving a
man a handjob, while another woman is strangled to death by a garrotte-like
device.
M/F, semi-consensual, snuff.

				His Chair
				by Darlene


Copyright by the author. Feel free to download this story, but do not
charge for its use.

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



When my lover opened the door I saw the chair, large and made of 
unpainted wood. It sat in the center of his study. He nudged me into 
the room by pushing at my back. His assistant Paul was already there, 
standing in a corner. It was cold in the room. The air conditioning was 
turned up very high. It gave me goosebumps.

My image in the baroque mirror caught my eye. I think I'm quite pretty. 
Hair tied back, wearing one of his white shirts, knotted at the midriff 
below my breasts. A leather belt at my waist, holding up nothing. Naked 
below the belt, the way he likes me. And my arms bound to my sides at 
the elbows.

He's not a nice man, he's a powerful man. And a demanding lover. I 
understand, I'm demanding myself. We fit like a complicated puzzle. He 
likes to weave some pain into our pleasure. I can take anything he 
decides to give me.

For days he's been angry, told me I was to blame. I'd gone home to my 
husband. Only to say goodbye I'd thought. But I stayed the night. I was 
sorry in the morning. My lover just looked at me when I confessed what 
I'd done. He locked me in the blue bedroom, where he's kept me until 
tonight.

He took my arm and walked me slowly around the big wooden chair. There 
were black metal cuffs at the bottom of its front legs. For ankles, I 
was sure. At the top of the chair's back a thick metal rod rose from 
the middle. It would act like a headrest for someone sitting in the 
chair. Attached to the rod was a black metal collar, big enough for 
someone's neck. A small metal wheel was fixed to the back of the rod, 
and seemed connected to the collar.

He opened and closed the collar, demonstrating how it would fit around 
the neck of a person in the chair. I didn't understand at first. What 
was the purpose of the chair? He turned the wheel and then I knew. The 
metal collar was flexible. It tightened a little and moved back towards 
the rod. Turn the wheel enough, it would squeeze someone's neck. It was 
a garrotte.

I felt his warm hand on my arm as he explained the chair had a problem 
when he'd bought it. Tightening the collar band was likely to cut off 
the flow of an occupant's blood. They might pass out in seconds, even 
expire, with little discomfort. He opened the collar to show me how 
he'd fixed it.

Inside the collar, just at the front center, a rusty metal square had 
been welded on. Two inches by two inches, maybe an inch thick. If the 
collar tightened, this metal square would press deep into a person's 
throat long before the collar could cut off the blood. Much more 
interesting, he said, fondling the square. He was looking at my neck.

He held down a button nearby. Two more of his house staff entered the 
room. The young driver, Freddie, and a maid named Lynn. Freddie and 
Lynn have just been married. They're new to the house. Freddie's 
uniform is gray. Lynn's is black, and sets off her red hair nicely. 
They were struggling with a small couch, which they set down facing the 
chair. He asked them to stand at a spot along the wall.

I'm sitting in the chair now. I'm still very cold. The wood is hard. 
Its surface is rough against my skin. Putting me in the chair, my lover 
cuffed my ankles and closed the collar himself. He's sitting on the 
couch across from me. I smile at him to show my acceptance. He doesn't 
smile back.

I look down. My hands are on my bare thighs. I give my them a little 
pat. It's foolish to feel this, but I'm excited. Moving my hands 
between my thighs, I find I can't quite touch myself down there. The 
bindings at my elbows prevent this. I flex my fingers and look at my 
lover again. He gets up and comes to me, adjusts the bindings just 
enough. I rest a finger on my pussy and feel dampness through the 
hairs. This is better. He returns to the couch and I thank him.

I'm a little embarrassed. Paul has seen us play a few times. We're 
almost friends. But the maid and the driver are new. They've seemed to 
resent me. And her I am, my legs held wide open by the ankle cuffs. 
They can see my most private place. And my humiliation in the chair. It 
doesn't seem to matter to him, sitting on his couch across from me.

I wait. I'm looking at the heavy cream curtains wondering what comes 
next. I wait some more. I sense Paul behind me. My lover signals to 
Paul and I hear the wheel behind my head turning. The collar is moving. 
I push my head back quickly. I can't go very far. The rod stops me. 
It's cold and very hard against my head.. My breathing is faster. The 
collar is getting closer. I feel the metal square, welded inside the 
collar, just touch my throat. The collar stops. I don't hear the wheel 
turning anymore.

I can't resist my curious nature. I have to test the situation. I move 
my head left and right. The metal square in the collar feels scratchy. 
I visualize it below my chin, rusty and faded black. I lean my head 
forward. It's a shock! I jerk myself back.

When my neck had moved forward, the square pressed against my throat. 
It jammed against the cartilage. It wasn't exactly pain, but the 
feeling was awful. The square had pushed the little parts in my throat 
back against my windpipe. Never mind my breathing, if the square pushed 
enough those parts might fracture. I'd never thought about how 
vulnerable the throat is. To have something press against it, even that 
briefly, gave me a queasy hollow in my stomach.

I realize now I've made a mistake. This is more than our normal games. 
I've never felt unsafe before, and now I do. I shouldn't have let him 
put me in the chair. But the arousal I'm feeling can't be denied. 
There's something very sexual about the collar, this metal hand teasing 
my throat. I move the tip of my finger into myself. I'm wetter. And 
cold as I am, I'm hotter.

My lover sends the maid, Lynn, out of the room. She returns with a 
small crystal glass. My lover gestures to her, and she settles herself 
on her knees in front of her young husband. Her black skirt doesn't 
quite touch the parquet floor. She opens Freddie's fly and pulls out 
his penis.

Looking only at Freddie, she strokes his penis softly until it grows 
long and hard. Still using her hand, she pumps his penis. She's talking 
to him in low tones I can't understand. Her hand keeps moving very 
gently. She smiles when his white come spurts in spasms into the glass 
she's holding.

My lover tells Freddie to step away, and motions for Paul to replace 
him. Lynn starts to object, but my lover is insistent. Her shoulders 
are stiff as she lowers Paul's zipper and he touches her red hair. Lynn 
reaches in for his penis. She takes it in her hand. It's already erect. 
My lover tells her to move her hand away. She has to use her mouth.

Lynn looks over to her husband. I see the look of revulsion in her 
face. I find this exciting. Freddie's eyes are brooding, he's unhappy, 
but he nods to his wife. They know they must obey. Lynn opens her mouth 
reluctantly.

I can see her twitch when her lower lip brushes Paul's penis. He takes 
her head in both hands. Her eyes open wider. She licks her lips 
nervously, brushing the penis again with the tip of her tongue. Paul 
pulls her head forward, and his penis slides into her mouth. He's 
holding her head steady, moving his hips back and forth. Lynn might not 
like this, but she's formed a wet ring with her lips. From the little 
sounds of her resistance, I think Paul is finding the back of her 
throat.

My own throat contracts as I watch them. I can feel the metal square 
against me. It's all very erotic. My nipples are burning and I'm 
touching myself. I wish my lover would let me have his penis. But he 
sits on his couch, watching us all intently. I see Lynn's husband 
clenching his fists as Paul forces himself rhythmically into her mouth. 
The action is passing slowly. I can hear the liquid movement and a tiny 
gag with each of his strokes. 

Paul's body is stiffening, I think he's going to come. He's pressing 
his hands harder against Lynn's head. She makes a retching noise, and I 
know Paul is covering her tongue with his little flood. I envy Lynn, 
but I would be more graceful accepting his semen. Paul holds her head 
tightly, it seems for a long time. He finally stands back from her and 
points to the glass. Lynn holds it to her lips and his come, mixed with 
her spit, dribbles into the crystal.

Lynn looks up at my lover, and he gestures to me. She gets off her 
knees and comes close. The expression on her face has changed. She may 
be the maid, but she's my superior for this moment. She looks pleased 
and spiteful. She dips a finger in the glass and lifts it. The mixture 
of come and spit dangles from her finger in white strands. She smiles 
and tells me it's my turn to open my mouth. 

I realize now Lynn thinks I'll be disgusted. She has no idea how eager 
I am for this. It completes her degradation. And gives the sexual 
victory to me. I open my mouth and she pours the come in slowly, biting 
her lip as she concentrates on the creamy whiteness. She asks me if her 
spit makes it taste better. I roll the semen around with my tongue, 
staring at her. I let a little ooze from the corner of my mouth, and 
lick it sensuously back in.

I thank Paul and Freddie for their present, and I thank Lynn too. We 
all see she's disappointed. I want to keep holding the come in my 
mouth, I like the thick and musky sensation, sharp on my tongue. My 
lover has other ideas. He tells me I have to swallow. I feel the metal 
square rubbing my throat as I'm doing it. I can still smell the scent 
of the semen I've swallowed when I breathe. I move my finger in my 
slit. It feels good to do that.

I wonder if we're done now. It's been an interesting experience and the 
pulse below my waist is almost electric. I'm ready for my lover to take 
me, to show he forgives me. But I'm waiting, and he's in no hurry. I'm 
starting to feel the cold again. On my body, and in my lover's face.

My lover waves an arm. The maid opens the door. Another young woman 
walks in. I've never seen her before. I can't believe this. She's 
dressed just like me. The same white shirt, knotted at her middle. The 
same leather belt. And undressed like me below that belt. Her hair, 
though tied at the back, is darker than mine. She has a black velvet 
ribbon like a choker around her neck.

She sits on the couch next to him with her legs open. I see another 
difference. She has a small dark patch of pubic hair just above her 
pussy. Unlike mine, her lips below are shaved clean. It's odd that this 
interests me so much. Other women have never been my thing. But I like 
the contrast of her dark hairs and bare lips. My reaction is sexual. 
Maybe because of all that's happened in this room. I'd like to see the 
lips part, moist with her drops. Well, maybe not. I'd rather she leave 
and not come back.

My lover leans over and gives her a kiss. When he straightens he smiles 
for the first time tonight. She smiles briefly too. At me, not at him. 
She places a finger on the on the black ribbon at her throat, just at 
its center. Her eyebrows rise and she nods. I'm not sure what she's 
telling me. I wish they would speak. I try a tentative smile of my own, 
aware of the metal square touching my skin. Her only reaction is to 
shake her head, but her eyes stay on mine.

He interrupts the contact of our eyes. Asks if I'm ready for more. It's 
my turn for silence. I can't find my voice. I'm very afraid. My 
breathing is getting rapid. Despite my fear I'm excited. My finger 
slides deeper inside me. I swallow hard, with no semen this time. I 
know enough not to nod my head. My lips form the word "Yes".

He looks at the woman next to him on the couch. Giving her permission? 
She speaks her first words, the voice mellow and silky. Not to me, to 
Lynn and Freddie. Asks if they want to stay. Lynn leers at me and tells 
her they do. They're sitting comfortably on the floor. Under her skirt 
I can see the vee of Lynn's panties between her steepled legs.

The woman raises her hand, makes a circular twisting motion. I hear 
Paul shuffle behind me. I can hear him turn the wheel. My head is 
pushing back against the rod. I can't get away. I don't want this. I 
give a little shriek when the metal square starts to move against me.

At least right now it's not as bad as I feared. From the tenor of the 
creaks I know the wheel is turning very slowly. The pressure on my 
throat is uncomfortable, but the metal square hasn't pushed in hard. 
What I see on the couch in distracts me. My lover has opened the fly of 
his pants and released his penis. It's growing large. More intriguing, 
the woman has spread her legs. She's touching herself. Slipping a 
finger inside. She removes her wet finger and rubs it on the ribbon at 
her throat. As my own finger tenses, she winks at me. I hear my own 
sounds of distress as the metal square moves deeper into my neck.

I feel pain in my throat now. I think the inner parts are starting to 
bend. I want to stay quiet, but I'm choking softly. The woman is using 
both hands on herself. I think she likes the sounds I make. It's very 
hard to breathe, I have to work at it. She must find this erotic. She 
holds up a hand and the wheel stops turning. She looks at my lover on 
the couch. He nods. Approval to hold me right here is granted, I guess.

The woman looks down at my fingers, then at her own. She starts to move 
hers faster. When she looks up at me, my pace quickens too. As 
difficult as it is for me to get air, as much as my throat hurts from 
the metal square, the urge between my legs is stronger. Our fingers 
keep working. Our eyes are locked. We're in this together. Whether it's 
a contest or a sharing I don't know. I really don't care. I can hear 
her ragged breathing, a tremor in each gasp. For me it's more like 
gagging, but just as intense. The only other sound in the room is the 
slippery squishing from between our legs.

The woman is reaching her peak. Her legs are trapping her hands. She's 
actually coming now, just a few feet in front of me. It's clear in her 
face, and from her moans. I've never seen this happen to another woman. 
I feel like a voyeur. That's all it takes to set me off. I'm coming 
too. It's hard to believe but I feel wonderful. No orgasm has ever been 
quite like this. It spreads all through my body, even my fingers and 
toes.

I'm slowing down now. My neck is still pinned between the upright rod 
and the little metal square. I cough and my throat hurts more. The 
woman across from me has recovered. She looks happy. She's getting up, 
coming to me. Her hand grazes my cheek. It hovers in front of my face. 
Some of her fingers are wet and shiny. I know what she wants. She isn't 
forcing me. She's giving me a choice. I look up, and open my mouth for 
her. She puts two fingers in. I suck on her fingers, feel them on my 
tongue. The taste is slightly tangy, my first taste of a woman.

She takes her hand back and unties the knot of my white shirt. 
Kneeling, she kisses my nipples. I shiver. She leans back, looking at 
me, and unties her own shirt. Her breasts are perfect, her nipples 
thick and dark. Her head drops near my lap and she moves my hands back 
to my thighs. I hold my breathe, wondering why I've never wanted 
another woman before. Her tongue licks at my pussy I hear myself 
sighing. I feel the air rattle past the metal square compressing my 
throat. She's very gentle. Not trying to make me come, more showing 
affection. Her tongue is warm and soothing on my flesh. Is she doing 
this for me, or to please him?

The woman rises. She's kissing my face. This feels nice too. I ask what 
her name is but she doesn't respond. She gives me a final peck on the 
forehead and squeezes my breasts. She sits back on the couch. Her hand 
reaches for my lover's penis. His turn now. I look at him 
questioningly. What about me? A little smile, and it's his hand that 
raises and makes the circling motion.

Paul whispers from behind me. Tells me he's sorry. I feel his hand 
stroking my ear. The wheel creaks. My body goes rigid. They can't! How 
much do they think I can take? The metal square is pressing harder 
against me. I notice my hands have moved on their own. I'm touching 
myself again.

The pressure on my throat is more than unpleasant. With every creak of 
the wheel I feel it a little more. Seeing her hand caress his penis 
should excite me. But something else excites me more. My own mental 
picture of myself as they see me. My fingers deep in my pussy. Naked, 
trapped in the chair, and slowly choking. Paul standing behind me, 
adjusting the wheel to make me choke harder.

That picture sends a thrill through me. It makes me shiver and I gasp 
in response. Except I can't finish the gasp. The metal square has 
pushed in too deep. There's no room for air anymore.

I try not to panic. It's just holding my breath while I choke. I can 
last until he comes, I know I can. But my stomach feels sick. It's 
telling me the truth. What I've known since that woman walked in. She's 
my replacement. My body will leave the chair. I won't. 

A white hot pain erupts in my throat for just a second. Something 
inside must have cracked.. The pain softens quickly and becomes less 
fiery. But it spreads to my chest. I can't breathe, I feel liquid 
running in my throat, I hurt. I should want to scream. Yet my fingers 
move inside me. I know what's happening now. My fingers will give me a 
last gift to myself..

I'm looking back at the woman on the couch. I don't understand, but I 
think she loves me a little. And I think I feel love for her. What I do 
understand is the price for this love. It's my life. Why don't I hate 
her? Why is it I don't mind? That this is enough for me?

My focus is on myself and the woman, but I'm aware as his come flows 
over her hand. I think I hear more creaking. I can't be sure. There's a 
roar in my ears. I see the woman's lips move through a haze. Did she 
say goodbye? I hope so, but I suppose it doesn't matter now. My fingers 
are thrusting harder. I want just one thing. All that I am is straining 
to reach it before I go. I know that I'm close.

Oh God, there it is. My last one. It's spreading all over. I want to 
tell her how beautiful it feels. I want to keep having them forever. 
But there'll never be another one for me. And it's getting darker. And 
darker.



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


Did you like this story?  Why not
<A HREF="mailto:Darlene29x@hotmail.com?subject=Ambivalent">
write Darlene</A>?  Remember, feedback from the readers is the
only "payment" the author gets.

You can find more at
	http://www.nyx.net/~anon3a9c/fair/entry.ssi


But if you think stories about people getting strangled during sex -- 
and
enjoying it -- 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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