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Message-ID: <41255asstr$1047679803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Keywords: strangulation, breath control, snuff, death
From: anon3a9c@nyx10.nyx.net (Damien)
Cache-Post-Path: irys.nyx.net!anon3a9c@nyx10.nyx.net
Subject: {ASSM} ASA Story: The President's Mistress (F/F, snuff, gasping, SC) (REPOST)
Date: Fri, 14 Mar 2003 17:10:03 -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

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 being executed by
strangulation.  Lethal, non-consensual.

			The President's Mistress
			     by A. P. Damien

This story is fiction, copyright 1996 by A. P. Damien

"The defendant will rise and face the bench."

Judge Markstein knew the law was unjust, but it was clear that the
sentence was necessary anyway.  Even counsel for the defense had made
it clear.  People needed a scapegoat for the country's troubles, and
the "family values" demagogues had whipped the faithful into a frenzy
over the President keeping a mistress.  The mobs would demand a death,
and the unfortunate defendant was the logical victim.  This convenient
trial would provide them with the sacrifice they wanted.

"You have been found guilty of eighteen counts of violating
the Access to High Officials Act.  Your repeated private, ex-parte
visits with President DaPoemian have been proven beyond a reasonable
doubt, and the court has no choice but to sentence you to die.  In
deference to your gender, you will be escorted from here by an all
female squad selected from the elite corps of the Secret Service,
and your executioner will be a member of that squad."

Markstein looked up and seemed to be addressing someone near the back
of the room.  "Take the prisoner away and execute the sentence upon her.
This court is adjourned."  Judge Markstein rapped the gavel.

So this was it.  Milla wasn't sure she minded.  Better that she die
than for the country to dissolve into riots and rebellions.  Things had
gotten really bad, and people were blaming it on her.  It was the new
prudishness of the radical right, she knew.  Besides, she didn't really
want to go on living without the twice weekly visits from her Mikey.
She loved him, and would gladly give her life to get him out of this
mess.  She had predicted this even before her arrest, and had made her
peace with her impending death while the trial wound to its dreary
close.  At least she'd managed to get her attorney to keep the
trial short; dragging it out with a useless attempt at defense would
have been more than she could have stood.

Sensing a movement behind her, Milla turned and noticed a group of
women standing near the back of the courtroom, all dressed in
identical dark grey dresses.  For a moment she wondered if they were
clones.  Then one walked up to her.  Mr. Allan, her attorney, shook
her hand and gave her a look that somehow conveyed "I'm sorry,"
"I wish I could have done better for you," and "good luck," all
at once.

The strange woman stuck out her hand and Milla reached to do the same,
but the woman grabbed her wrist in a come-along hold.  She led Milla to
the back of the courtroom, where two of the others took a heavy
plastic tie and fastened Milla's wrists together behind her.
Milla guessed that these were the Secret Service squad the Judge
mentioned; there seemed to be about fifteen of them.

The squad took Milla to an enclosed van and tied her into one of the
seats in back.  They all got in efficiently and the one who had
initially grabbed her got in and started driving.  Milla's hard-won
resolve started to waver as she wondered where they were taking her, and
when and how she would be killed.

After what seemed like hours but was less than half an hour by the
dashboard clock, the driver stopped the van and the doors were opened.
As they helped her out, Milla saw a private garden of some sort.
A beautiful place to die, but it made her sad, remembering the
happy times when she had sometimes walked with Mike in the Rose
Garden.

Two of the women chained one of her legs to an interior fence, then the
driver came forward again.  "We have decided to draw straws to see who
has to kill you," the driver told her, "We're sorry to have to do this
to a sister, but you _did_ commit a capital crime and the good of the
country demands this.  I can only assure you that we'll make it as
quick as we can."

Milla still didn't know how she was going to die, but at least the
driver seemed to be promising it would be soon.  One of the women opened
a valise and they all took things out of it and pulled them over their
heads, then they went into a huddle.  After a couple of minutes they
turned around and Milla saw they were all wearing black cloth hoods.

One of them stepped forward and removed her hood.

"Hello, Milla.  My name is Andrea and I'm going to be your
executioner today." Close up, Andrea no longer looked like a clone.
Her glossy brown hair reached to her waist; Milla estimated her age
at around 30.

Andrea took a moment to look over the prisoner she was to execute.
Milla's dress and calm demeanor were a surprise.  Andrea had no
idea how someone being held on a capital charge could array herself
like that.  The prisoner was dressed in a freshly pressed blouse and
tight skirt, stockings and medium heels; her dark brown hair hung to
her shoulders and she had brushed it until it was lustrous.  It was
set off beautifully by her brown clothing.  Her sheer black stockings
could hardly have taken the stress of the exercise yard in the federal
jail.  And her shoes, where did a prisoner get heels like that?

Milla looked into the other's eyes and was sure that for all the
driver's assurances of sisterhood and sympathy, this one would enjoy
killing her.  She could sense Andrea's envy of her milky-white skin and
nearly black eyes.  This struck Milla as odd; Andrea's face was pretty
enough though not as beautiful as Milla's.  And Milla would die for
that nearly perfect body that the clinging grey knit dress
showed off.  Also, she sensed there might be some sexual interest
involved; there seemed to be something...kinky...about this agent.

And Andrea didn't seem to have any weapons, so Milla still had no idea
how she was to be executed.  Perhaps some sort of martial art?  Surely
a Secret Service agent would know at least one.  Milla was certainly
helpless enough, with her hands tied behind her back and one leg
manacled to the fence.  Whatever it was, Milla wished Andrea would
hurry up and get it over with.

Andrea smiled slightly and moved forward until she was almost touching
Milla.  Suddenly she wrapped her two legs around Milla's one free
leg; Milla tried to pull her leg free but found it was immobilized.
Andrea must be stronger than she looked.

The Andrea put her hands gently around Milla's throat, the thumbs
resting lightly in the hollow where her throat met her chest.

Milla's eyes widened as she realized how she was going to die.
This wasn't going to be pleasant, but she could imagine plenty of
worse deaths.  Her legs started to shake a little as she thought
about wanting to breathe and not being able to.  She remembered how
she would sometimes hold her breath as long as she could while
watching a magic escape act on TV; she'd always had to give up after
about a minute.  This would go on and keep on getting worse until she
died.  She shivered a little and hoped it wouldn't hurt too much.

Andrea watched her victim's eyes as Milla realized what was in store.
This woman with perfect skin was in her power, and Andrea would get
to feel Milla's death struggles.  "I won't squeeze too hard at first,"
she whispered.  "We don't want you to get an unseemly coughing fit, now
do we?"

Milla shook her head, a tiny side-to-side movement of her chin.
Her voice seemed stuck in her throat, and she felt like she was
having trouble breathing even though Andrea wasn't squeezing yet.

Andrea found this very satisfying; the prisoner was already afraid of
her.  She went on, "It won't take long to stop your breathing.  I'm
just going to give you a few seconds to get used to the pressure."
She squeezed slightly with her thumbs and Milla could feel her throat
constrict; she could still breathe without _too_ much trouble, though.

Andrea listened to the raspy sound of Milla's breathing and smiled
again, then slowly increased the pressure.  In a few seconds she heard
the rasping noise change to an irregular snoring sound.  She eased up
just a little and hissed, "Take a deep breath and enjoy it, kiddo.
It's the last one you'll ever get."

Milla made the most of the opportunity, pulling as much air as she
could into her lungs, despite the effort required to get it past the
pressure on her throat.  Then she felt Andrea's fingers start to slowly
tighten again.

Andrea looked down at where her thumbs were digging into Milla's neck,
and increased the pressure until the snoring noise stopped completely.
It was amazing, how little effort was required to make that beautiful
dent in the hollow of the other woman's throat and cut off her breath.

Milla's eyes held a look of determined resolution when Andrea looked
into them again, but that look slowly changed as Andrea's fingers dug
into that milky throat.  She'd started counting seconds when Milla's
breathing stopped, and it took less than 30 for that determined bravery
to turn to desperation.

Soon Milla's chest was heaving with the effort to get rid of the stale
air trapped in her lungs.  Andrea revelled in the sense of her power
over the condemned woman's life and breath.  She smiled into Milla's
eyes as the desperate look turned to fear, then slowly to utter panic.
Andrea could feel the trembling and Milla's struggles, transmitted
though the leg trapped between her own and found it was getting her
excited.

Milla's upper body started thrashing around, trying to pull free from
Andrea's hands around her neck.  But Andrea merely held on tighter,
looking deep into the other woman's eyes, and savoured the pleading look
she found there.

The change that had come over Milla was amazing.  She had come here
meekly, obviously intending to submit to the death awaiting her.  
But now, with death so near, she was struggling like a tigress,
slamming her body into Andrea, then twisting away to one side or
throwing herself back against the fence, trying to get free.

Andrea glanced down to see her thumbs digging very deep in Milla's neck.
Further down she could see her victim's breasts heaving in a rapid,
panting attempt to get air.  

And Andrea was breathing fast too.  Holding onto Milla was getting harder
as the struggles got wilder, and Andrea could feel a growing excitement,
a tingling feeling in her breasts and between her legs.  Andrea was
almost surprised Milla hadn't managed to break her spine with her
violent struggles.

Andrea looked up to Milla's face again; the other woman's eyes were
starting to bulge from their sockets as she strained for air.  This was
a moment to savor; it was unlikely Andrea would ever again have someone's
life in her hands again.  She held on tight and met the bulging eyes again.
"Sssh.  Sssh," she whispered, "it's OK, it'll be over soon.  Less than a
minute now, and you'll sleep...forever.  But go ahead and struggle, it
uses up your air and you'll be done that much sooner."

The struggles slowed down a little and became less violent.  Andrea
wasn't sure if Milla had heard her or was just becoming weaker.  The
trembling had stopped now, but Andrea could still feel the motions of
Milla's upper body through the leg she was holding between hers.
The condemned woman's mouth was open in a desperate stretch for air.

The struggles started to weaken, and Milla's swollen tongue started
to emerge from her mouth.  Andrea wrapped her legs tighter around
Milla's as her excitement started to grow out of control.  She felt a
tremendous sense of power as the other woman's life faded in her hands
and the woman's struggles changed to small movements of the chest
muscles.

Andrea clamped her mouth tightly closed to hold in a scream of pleasure
as her power over Milla's rapidly dwindling life force translated
into an enormous orgasm.  When she regained control, she found her
thumbs incredibly deep in the other woman's throat.  Her legs were
clamped so hard around Milla's they were starting to hurt.  The
victim's upper body sagged limply in her grasp, the head lolled forward
almost onto the chest.

Andrea forced herself to breathe normally and held onto Milla's neck
until finally another woman stepped around behind the prisoner and
grabbed a wrist.  After a few seconds she nodded to Andrea, "It's over."

Andrea relaxed her thighs first, she knew they'd be bruised for days from
the way she'd abused them today.  Then she slowly, almost lovingly,
released her grip on the dead throat.  Her hair was all sweaty near her
scalp and down the back of her neck, she would have to wash it tonight.

The squad formed up, took the manacles off the dead body, and carried it
away to be buried in accordance with the President's directions.

Andrea considered her sore thumbs and aching thighs, and decided it was
worth it. It seemed to her that after she'd reassured the other woman
Milla had acted as though she didn't mind so much, perhaps even enjoyed
her last moments a little.  Perhaps they had _both_ had orgasms.  She
wondered what it had felt like for Milla to be strangled like that.


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

Did you like this story?  You can find more at
	http://www.nyx.net/~anon3a9c/fair/entry.ssi

I'd also like to hear about it.  Tell me what you like about it, and what you
think could be improved.  Remember, I don't get paid for writing these
stories.  It takes me about 20 hours - the equivalent of half a week of
full-time work - to write a 2500 word story.  All I get in return is
feedback from the readers - and usually not enough of that.

If you like stories of this type, but didn't like this story, I'd like to
hear about that, too.  Especially if you can articulate what was wrong with
this story.

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 (a handle, not a name)

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