The Riwa Story Thread

[riwa]

There used to be a website where fictional stories about models and celebs were snuffed or executed. I have those stories in my archives. So I thought I would post the crucifixion stories here for those who are interested. Here is the first one.

Anna’s Execution
"God DAMN!" I enthused. "I reckon you must be Anna Nicole."
"Yes, I am," she admitted.
"I don't mean to stare, ma’am, but I have to say, you look pretty fantastic."
"Thanks. The judge ordered me to attend the trial wearing the same outfit I wore for my Playboy centerfold. It took the jury just ten minutes to convict me of obscenity. Do you think is an obscene outfit, officer?" She was wearing a short, pink satin jacket over a lacy, pink corset. Her breasts were completely exposed. Her stockings were suspended from pink garters. She had no panties; her natural blonde pubic fur had been shaved down to a bare minimum.
"No, ma'am, I don't," I said honestly. "But I don't make the laws." I opened the back door of the van. "Would you get in, please?"
"Are you permitted to tell me where you're taking me?" she asked.
"Sure. We're going to the Women's Special Correctional Center. I guess the judge really came down on you hard, ma'am?"
"Why do you say that?"
I paused. "What goes on at the Center isn't pleasant," I said slowly. "Not for the convicts, at least."
"No, I'm sure it isn't," she agreed. She looked down at the ground. "I've been sentenced to 'Death by Slow Torture.'"
"I'm very sorry to hear that, ma'am." That was a lie, of course. I couldn't wait to watch this gorgeous Playmate die in incredible agony. But I was trying to make her feel a little better.
She managed to raise her head and gaze into my eyes. "Do you know what they'll do to me? Specifically, I mean?"
I shook my head. "That's up to the warden."
"Well, you know him, don't you? What can I expect? I'd be...very grateful for any information you could give me."
"How grateful?" I asked.
She turned around, planted her high heels firmly in the ground about three feet apart and bent down low, offering me the only thing she had left to give. Her pussy was sleek, inviting; she was presenting it to me like a Penthouse girl would, and that was pretty sexy behavior for a nice "girl next door" from Texas. She looked back over her shoulder at me. "Very grateful," she said in a husky voice. I shrugged. There was nothing in my job description about turning down free Playmate pussy. I dropped my pants and entered her; she squealed when she realized what she had gotten herself into. I'm not small, and she was quite dry. It must have been very painful for her. That thought turned me on, and I started fucking her harder, which hurt her even more. It was a nice pain-pleasure feedback loop.
"The warden's a real tit man," I confided as I ravaged her. "When he gets a look at those melons of yours, he'll probably decide to focus on breast torture as much as possible. He might start with some whipping and some electric shocks. Lately he's been experimenting with heating coils. And he'll probably finish you with the breast guillotine. That's...well, it's exactly what it sounds like."
"Oh, God!" she whimpered.
"Oh, and I hear he has something new he's been waiting to try out. Something to do with piranhas." The thought of hungry carnivorous fish feasting on Anna's superb breasts was too much for me; I came into her, and I came hard.
"Thanks for the fuck," I said politely. "Now please get in the van." She straightened up and complied, climbing docilely into the van. I smiled and waved at my other prisoner, a notorious pornographess named Traci Tops. She sat handcuffed on the van's hard, cold bench; she was naked except for white stockings and high heels.
"Can't you manage to keep your dick in your pants for five minutes at a time?" Traci demanded bitterly.
I laughed. "Sorry, Traci. You were a pretty good fuck, but you were never any Playmate of the Year. I mean, look at the body on this girl! No straight man alive could pass that up."
Anna flushed bright red. "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone could see us when we were..."
Traci sighed. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. Like he said, I fucked him too. I think most of the girls do, hoping to get some special treatment from him."
"And I like to reward girls who are generous with their pussies," I said. "Which is why I'm leaving the ballgags out, so you girls can have a nice chat on your way to the Center."
"Thanks a million, asshole," Traci spat.
I laughed again. "Sounds to me like you're jealous, Traci. But don't worry. Unlike me, the warden doesn't play favorites. He'll have plenty of action for both you girls." I closed and locked the door of the van.

​

"Anna Nicole, you have been found guilty of obscenity, to wit, that you did willfully and with malice aforethought expose your breasts and vagina to a photographer, with the express intent that the resulting photographs should be published in the pornographic magazine known as Playboy. Your sentence is death by slow torture, and it is my pleasure to see it that this sentence will be carried out at once.
"You are to be affixed to a crucifix by means of spikes driven through your palms. Your nipples will be pierced with electrified needles. Your breasts will be wrapped with electric heating coils. You will remain crucified for two days. You will be raped as you suffer; you will then be castrated with a branding iron. On the third day you will be taken down and installed in our experimental Piranha unit, where you will remain until dead. Do you have any questions?"
"Yes, sir." Anna was sitting on a folding metal chair, still handcuffed, still in her Playmate outfit. "Is there any way we could just skip the crucifixion and move straight to my execution? I'd be VERY grateful." She parted her thighs slightly, offering the warden her charms.
"That's attempted bribery." The warden motioned to a nearby guard. "The guard will administer ten hard lashes across the prisoner's nipples immediately." Lucky guard!
"What? No, wait, please, I..." Anna protested. She started to rise from her chair as the guard approached, but a second guard had come up behind her, and he now pushed down hard on her shoulders, forcing her to remain seated as his partner drew a viscous-looking quirt from a holster at his belt. With a smile the guard administered Anna's lashes. He was clearly an experienced whip man. Every stroke fell squarely across one or both of her nipples. Of course, in Anna's case, the targets were easy to find; her nipples were huge, pink and perfectly round. He put a lot of energy into his work, raising the quirt up high before bringing it down hard on her tender breast meat. Each of his strokes brought a scream of genuine, sincere pain from Anna. And I could tell by the way he looked at her breasts as he lashed them that he was just waiting for a chance to fuck her. I had to admit, I didn't blame him. She had a gorgeous body, great tits, and a nice, tight cunt. I was kind of hoping I'd get another stab at her myself, once her torture had begun.

​

Watching them nail her up made me rock-hard. There's nothing sexier than a gorgeous woman nailed to a cross. Sometimes the girls are gagged and blindfolded for their crucifixions, but the warden wasn't about to show Anna that kind of mercy. She had to watch it happen. She squirmed in growing terror as they held her arms against the crossbeam. Then a guard approached with the hammer and spike. It was the same guard who had whipped her. He placed the tip of the spike against her palm, made sure he had it in the right spot, and raised the hammer. She screamed wildly as it came down; she started squealing before it even hit, and kept right on howling as the spike tore through her flesh and muscle to embed itself in the wood behind her hand. I didn't see it happen. I heard it. I prefer not to watch as the nails are driven in; you can learn more from listening, if the girl isn't gagged. The tone of the scream changes, from fear and panic before the spike enters her hand to agony and dismay afterwards. There is no faster way to turn a woman into a mindless animal than by driving a steel spike through her hand.
She was still screaming when the other nail went in, and now the tone of her scream changed once again, because now she really was nailed to the cross; there was absolutely no escape for her. She was utterly helpless, her hands ruined forever. And then they began to lift the cross, slowly uprighting it. Now I looked at her. I watched her face as the bones in her hands took her full weight. Now at last she began to get some inkling of what she was in for. I saw her face light up with agony; it was a new dawn of suffering for her. She was transformed, radiant, angelic. She had been crucified for our sins. I stared at her lacerated tits, at her sweet, suffering body. I had a strong desire to start a religion around the image of Anna on the cross. I mean, if I was going to worship anything, it would have to be that.
Guards moved in to install torture devices onto her breasts. One guard grabbed her left nipple, pinching and squeezing it until it was hard, then pulling it out away from her breast as another guard slid the nipple needle into place. She screamed wildly as the needle entered her tender nipple, even though the electricity was not yet flowing. I didn't really blame her; it was a thick needle, and a sizable trickle of bright red blood escaped from her nipple as it pierced her. They repeated the process with her right nipple. The needles were connected by cables to a console; an eager guard waited there, ready to electrify Anna's spectacular breasts, but the warden waved him off. The second team had to install the heating coils first.
The coils were simply copper bands which were wrapped around Anna's tits; once they were in place, they looked rather like a bizarre kind of bikini. They too were wired to a console, where another guard awaited permission to begin cooking Anna Nicole's sweet breast flesh.
"Let the breast torture begin," the warden declared with a smile. Anna's screams had dwindled down to helpless whimperings, but now they returned in full force as electric agony shot straight into her nipples. I've always liked the electric nipple needles; there really is no more efficient way to deliver pain to a woman's breasts. I was amazed at how Anna moved up there on the cross; crucified as she was, I would have thought her motions would be quite limited. But that wasn't true at all. She couldn't move her hands, of course, since these were nailed in place, and her arms had to remain fairly still. But the rest of her body put on quite a show. Her legs were free, and she moved them well. I recalled that she had some erotic dancing experience, and it showed. She really knew how to move her legs; there was something in the way they kicked and twisted that just made you want to fuck. The sight of Anna's naked, crucified body was a real turn on, especially now that electric agony was flowing through her breasts. I waited eagerly for the warden to grant us permission to rape her.
First we had to wait for the breast heaters to warm up, though, and that took a while. It was a more subtle torture; there wasn't an immediate effect like with the nipple needles. But gradually we began to hear a soft sizzling sound as Anna's breasts began to cook. The warden held up his hand, indicating that the heat should go no higher. We had to pace ourselves, in order to make sure that Anna went the distance.
Now she was ready for rape at last. There was a rape platform in front of the cross; the men began to line up beneath it. When my turn came, I did as the others did: I stood in front of her on the platform, grabbed her legs, forced them open, entered her. I smiled at her as I fucked her; I had been inside her before, but that was our little secret. I held onto her ass as I raped her, lifting her up, and that made the rape doubly insidious. Not only were we violating her in the most exquisite way, but by lifting her up slightly as we fucked her, we took some of the pressure off her hands, her arms, her torso, made it easier for her to breathe. She would last longer on the cross because of our rape.
The nipple needles were turned down while we raped her, so that we wouldn't get shocked. You could still feel it a little bit, but it was OK. It was actually kind of stimulating. The warden ordered the heat coils turned up to compensate for the decreased shocks; he wanted to make sure that Anna was in plenty of pain while we raped her. I got to rape her several times. Around the second or third time I entered her, I began to smell cooking meat, and that really turned me on. I loved the idea of fucking a woman as her breasts cooked.
There were thirty or forty guards at the prison, and they all wanted a piece of Anna, but she wasn't going anywhere, and there was plenty of her to go around. There was pretty much always somebody inside her that first day. Finally the warden called it a night. He dismissed everyone except for a skeleton crew. The nipple needles were turned back up, and Anna's screams filled the night.
The rape line reformed early the next morning. We just couldn't get enough of Anna: those incredible tits, so big, so firm, so round, and all natural. The torture devices on them really added something, too. Anna never stopped screaming. Some girls give it up after a while and just suffer in silence. Not Anna.
I must have raped her five, six times on the second day. All the while, the heating coils were gradually being turned up. By late afternoon, there was actually smoke rising up from her tits. That was really something.
Finally the warden announced that it was time to castrate her. One lucky guard approached her squirming body with a red-hot poker. Two more guards spread her legs, pinned them back. She whimpered softly, dreading what was about to happen to her. The guard pressed his poker hard against her clit, holding it there as her center of sexual pleasure blackened, charred, died. Her scream was astonishing. The scream a woman makes when she's being castrated is unlike any other. After that she passed out, and the warden dismissed us for the night, after ordering that the nipple needles be turned up so that she would be in agony again when she awoke.

​

Anna wasn't doing well when we returned the next morning. She had been in continuous agony for two full days; she hadn't slept or eaten, and she had been raped too many times to count. She was a strong woman, but even she had her limits.
The warden ordered some guards to take her down and transfer her to the piranha tank. The men lowered her to the floor gently, almost reverently. She whimpered a little as the nails were removed from her hands; it must have hurt like hell, but she didn't have the strength to protest much. The heating coils and nipple needles were removed from her breasts, and Anna seemed relieved at that. Two guards carried her limp, yielding body down to the tanks, and we adjourned there to watch her die.

​

The piranha tank was still in its experimental stages, but I was sure that it would soon become a standard execution technique, because it was so clever. The victim stood in front of a glass tank, her wrists bound behind her back. Her breasts fit through twin rubber gaskets; a thick leather strap held her belly firmly against the glass, to ensure that her breasts remained completely inside the tank. The tank held about six inches of water and some very hungry fish. A water pipe ran down to the victim's mouth, and a sluice ran from her chin down into the tank. Once the water was turned on, the victim had to begin drinking it down as fast as she could. Every drop she missed would run down the chin sluice and into the tank, raising the water level and bringing those hungry piranhas ever closer to her tender breasts. Of course, no woman could hope to keep drinking water forever; sooner or later, she was doomed. But the great thing about this trap was that it made the victim participate in her own death. As the piranhas finally sank their teeth into her tit flesh, she would no doubt feel the nagging suspicion that it was somehow her fault, that if she had only consumed more water, she might have survived. The victim thus became, in a way, her own executioner.
Now Anna Nicole was strapped into the piranha tank. The water valve was opened, and we all watched eagerly to see what would happen to her breasts. The rubber gaskets concealed the twin rings of burned flesh where the heating coils had been, and the wounds from the nipple needles were subtle. On the whole, her breasts looked pretty good. She wiggled and squirmed in her bonds, whimpering as she tried to drink. At first she did well, letting only a few drops leak down the sluice. But then her belly began to fill with water. She had to force it down, and a thin, steady stream began to flow into the tank. Still Anna gulped down water in a desperate, valiant attempt to stave off the inevitable. Her bladder filled until it was nearly bursting; she simply let herself go, allowing her piss to flood over the floor. She had already pissed herself several times on the cross; it was all part of the humiliation process.
Anna was losing ground now, and losing fast. The water flowed steadily down into the tank; the water level was rising, and the piranhas were snapping their jaws greedily, anxious to bite into her sweet tits. I couldn't blame them. There was a real feast waiting for them.
The last few moments were breathless for everyone, especially for Anna. The water level rose with agonizing slowness; I could hardly stand the anticipation! And then suddenly, there it was: one of the fish managed to latch onto her left breast, sinking its fangs deep into the tender flesh. Anna screamed as the piranha tore her breast flesh from her. A red cloud suffused through the water, driving the other fish wild, sending them into a feeding frenzy. They leapt upon her, tearing her tits to shreds, violating her horribly. I had never seen anything like it. In a matter of moments, her breasts were picked clean, removed, amputated by nature's finest surgeons. Anna stared down into the tank in horror, gazing at the two bloody holes where her tits had been, watching as her heart pumped her bright red life's blood into the cool water. Not many women get to watch themselves die like that. I wonder what she thought in her last moments on earth, but we'll never know, because she didn't say a word. She just gurgled softly and expired.

 

[riwa]

Time to hang Dorothy again?

Grandad's birthday party

It’s a grand birthday party for the old codger, and all of his family and friends are there. Aneeqa and I are invited because I live just down the road. The food is grand and the drinks flow freely.

After awhile Grandad starts telling stories and everyone gathers round to listen. But I start to wonder how much he’s had to drink when he shares this dark fantasy about seeing pretty women hang to death. It certainly makes me wonder about the old bloke.

He tells us he’s seen pictures and renders on some snuff groups. He says he’s never seen a hanging for real of course; it’s all just in his mind. That’s when one of his older friends suggests that Aneeqa and I are built just right for his fantasy and how we should oblige his kinky dreams.

There are whoops and hollers with lots of voices cheering us on, telling us we should put on a really good show for the old man. A bench is quickly set up right in front of Grandad with two nooses dangling above it. Then everyone cheers us on to give the old codger a real thrill.

Aneeqa and I have been drinking pretty heavily and our inhibitions are pretty much gone. She giggles as she leans over and whispers to me how we ought to put on a good pretend-show for all the blokes watching, especially the older ones. She says she’s game if I am. So we both walk over to stand in front of the bench.

We bow grandly in front of ol’ Grandad and then start to strip. There are lots of whoops and hollers as we slowly get undressed in a teasing manner. I’m a little embarrassed, but I’m also turned on beyond belief knowing we’re really giving the old bloke and his rowdy friends a show.

Grandad’s eyes bug out, and I can see him and his friends panting heavily as we strip down to our birthday suits. Somebody hollers, “Now tie the two birds up!” A couple of Grandad’s friends rush forward with a couple lengths of rope. Our arms are tied behind our backs and we both get groped a little, much to Grandad’s delight. But we’re so intoxicated that neither one of us minds one bit.

Someone else hollers, “Now get ‘em up onto the bench!” and Aneeqa and I are helped up onto our bare feet. The nooses are looped around our necks and then snugged up real good. I get the erotic shivers something fierce as my pussy drips like crazy, my nipples feeling like they’re going to pop right off.

“Everybody’s looking at us, love,” Aneeqa giggles at me. I can tell she loves the attention we’re getting. I love it too, especially the way Grandad is leaning forward on his chair to gawk at us.

All those codgers are leering at us. I can’t help getting turned on even more, hoping we’re making all those old dicks get hard. We’ve definitely had too much to drink. But for now I don’t care, especially with every eye upon us.

“Want to see us dance, love?” Aneeqa calls out to Grandad with a giggle. She gawks and gurgles as she poses seductively, acting as though her noose is really tight and that she’s strangling to death. I grin as I wriggle my naked body right along with her as though I’m in mortal agony.

One of his friends call out, “Pull the bench over with your walking stick, Grandad!” Aneeqa smiles and in a slurred voice tells him, “Go ahead; we’re ready, Grandad.” I tell him, “Go on, Grandad; pull our bench away and watch us dance. Give yourself a thrill, and us too.” But I really don’t think he’s going to do it; he’s just enjoying seeing us all noosed up.

I’m still thinking it’s all for show when he leans forward and hooks the bench with his walking stick. He is smiling, so maybe he’s just teasing us. Aneeqa giggles as she tells me, “I think they love my tits, Dottie. I bet they all want to see them bounce.”

“Mine too,” I add, not wanting to be outdone by her. So I tease him by telling him, “Go right ahead, Grandad. Pull the bench over and give us a thrill.” It’s an incredible turn-on being naked, bound and noosed right there in front of everyone, especially when he could pull the bench over with his walking stick and send us kicking into eternity.

All of the sudden Grandad does exactly that: giving our bench a tug with his walking stick. It topples right over and Aneeqa and I drop unexpectedly. The noose grabs my neck and won’t let go. I’m suddenly kicking and twisting and swinging all about.

I look over at Aneeqa and see the terror in her eyes matching my own. Neither one of us thought they would really hang us. We just thought it would be a pretend hanging… posing more for show than anything else.

Aneeqa writhes and twists violently beside me. Our legs entangle and then untangle as we twist around and around and then swing back and forth. Then we bounce off each other’s naked bodies because they put our nooses too damned close to each other. Our bums slam together, and it sends both of our bodies twisting and gyrating wildly as we swing back and forth while doing our dance of death.

My pussy flashes its pinkness as it flares and throbs, completely soaked through and all ready for sex. A voice inside me cries out, “NO; NOT LIKE THIS??” But my body betrays me as though this is exactly what my pussy wants and that hanging to death is how I should experience my very last orgasm. And it’s true: I’m cumming up a storm.

Aneeqa goes into some kind of convulsion, kicking hard as her body twists and then gyrates into some sort of an S. I realize she’s orgasming just as wildly as I am. Sheer bliss overwhelms me as the noose does its deadly work.

Grandad’s friends and family point and cheer, and I hear shouts of “LOOK AT THAT; THEY’RE BOTH CUMMING IN THE NOOSE!” Grandad has a drink in his hand, but he only has eyes for the two of us. It’s a look that tells me this is the way he has always wanted to see me.

I can’t believe they’re not taking us right back down. My head feels like it will burst at any moment, and my ears are ringing. There is a red mist in front of my eyes and I’m having trouble seeing. But the more I struggle the tighter the grip of the noose becomes… and the harder I cum.

My boobs are rock hard, my nipples swollen and hurting. But my pussy gives me away, flaring and squirting as I keep bringing my thighs together. My brain tells me I’m going to die, but my body is awash in a sea of asphyxiated bliss that seems never ending.

Despite my struggles, my legs keep flying open, allowing everyone to see how wet I am and how hard I’m cumming. It’s as though I’m lewdly offering myself to Grandad for his visual enjoyment. His eyes flash excitedly, and I’ll bet he wishes he was years younger so he could come up and fuck me in the noose. I wish he would too… anything to take away the pain of this hemp around my throat.

Aneeqa bounces off me again. I can tell she is struggling violently not to die. But that is a vain hope now. Grandad leans forward and I hope it’s to tell everyone to take us down. But all he’s doing is lighting his pipe.

A voice inside me screams, “SAVE ME, GRANDAD; SAVE ME!” Then another massive orgasm ripples through my body, a mix of pain and pleasure that says to me… “This is what you really want, Dorothy. This is how you were born to die. So put on a great show; it’s going to be your last.” I rasp and gurgle, desperately trying to breathe as my legs part again, giving him and everyone else watching another lewd display.

Grandad watches us kick and dance with great enthusiasm. In fact everyone is watching us intently. Nobody lifts a finger to take us down. That’s when I know we’re both going to die.

Aneeqa suddenly jerks and gurgles; she is cumming again and pissing herself. I fight it for all I am worth before my final orgasm claims me. Then I am bucking and jerking and gurgling and fucking the air like the greatest of whores as the noose totally constricts my throat.

I can’t breathe anymore, and it hurts like bloody hell. Then I realize I don’t have the strength to fight anymore as I finally hang limp, my feet twitching as my body jerks and spasms. Aneeqa twitches next to me as my mind screams for Grandad to take us down. But I can see he’s not going to. He’s just going to sit there and watch until we’re gone.

The last thing I’m aware of is my bladder giving way. It’s a humiliation beyond belief. Then I hear more whoops and hollers. The sounds fade away as though I’m getting farther away from everyone. Then I find myself tumbling into the abyss of oblivion with Aneeqa falling at my side…

© 2014; 2015 (written for Aneeqa, Dorothy & Grandad Mar 30 ’14; ed. Jul 27 ’15 by riwa)

(Inspired by a poser series by LYNX. Posers are courtesy of LYNX and are for illustration purposes only.)

 

[riwa]

Crucifixion for two
"Before me stand two whores. Both have been given numerous opportunities to renounce their sins and beg forgiveness. Despite this show of mercy, both remain entirely unrepentant. It thus gives me great pleasure to sentence them to the deaths which they so richly deserve. These trollops have called this fate down upon themselves. They bear full responsibility for what is about to occur.
"Both women shall be crucified, for that is the most painful death which the torturer's art can produce. As the nature of each woman's sin is slightly different, so too the nature of their deaths shall differ. The whore Bathsheba, who has taken men's phalluses into her body, shall take a pointed shaft of steel in the same fashion as she suffers on the cross. The whore Ruth has taken men's seed into her stomach, and so her stomach shall be removed from her body as she hangs from her crucifix.
"It is my hope and belief that both whores shall suffer tremendously before they finally expire. Let the executions now commence, and may God have mercy on your souls."
Two guards led the naked women out of the judge's chambers and into the crucifix storeroom. Bathsheba and Ruth shivered as they gazed upon long rows of crosses, in various sizes and weights. Each of these crosses would cost a young woman her life, and there were hundreds in the storeroom: smaller, lighter ones for teenaged girls, larger and heavier models for grown women.
"Sentences?" asked the attendant.
"Crucifixion and impalement for that one, crucifixion and gutting for the other," the guard said gruffly.
"Hm! Should be a nice show; they're both quite lovely," the attendant remarked. "All right. Number six cross, one each. You guards get four nails and one hammer apiece." The attendant indicated the appropriate crosses, then looked expectantly at Bathsheba and Ruth. The two women glanced nervously at each other.
One of the guards slapped Bathsheba hard across the cheek, leaving a bright, red mark. She cried out in pain and raised her hand to her face. "Come on, you bitches!" the guard roared. "We haven't got all day! Pick up those crosses and get moving! We need to get you nailed up and come back for another pair of sluts!"
Ruth hurried to the rack of crosses and selected one. She didn't want to be struck as Bathsheba had been. Grasping the thick main beam of the cross, she tried to lift it. Her naked breasts quivered as her muscles flexed and strained. She could barely lift the enormous cross; it was tremendously heavy. Finally she managed to get the thing up off its rack. Now she struggled to balance it; it nearly fell onto her, and she knew that it could easily crush her.
"Carry it on your back, with your shoulder up hard against the crossbeam," the attendant advised. "It won't be easy, but you can manage it. You girls look strong." Turning so that she faced away from the cross, Ruth let the heavy beam fall against her back. She nearly tumbled to the floor as the horrible weight of it came down on her, but she managed to remain upright. The attendant helped her to place the crossbeam over her shoulder. She found that if she pressed her shoulder up against the cross as he had suggested, she could manage to drag the cross behind her. It wasn't easy, and it certainly wasn't pleasant, but it was possible. Bathsheba studied Ruth's technique for a moment, then repeated it with her own cross.
The two women staggered under the weight of their burdens as the guards led them out into the street.
"How far is it?" Bathsheba gasped.
"No more than a mile or two," the guard replied. "What's your hurry? We're only going to crucify you when we get there, you know." The two men laughed at that.
Slowly, painfully, the two women trudged their way through the dirty, unpaved streets. The guards made sure they kept their pace up. Each guard was armed with a cat-o-nine-tails, and they would periodically lash the two prostitutes, forcing them to move faster. Of course, Bathsheba and Ruth soon grew exhausted from carrying the huge crosses. As they slowed down, the whippings grew more severe, and soon their backsides were raw and pink with whipping sores. Through a Herculean effort, the girls managed to overcome their fatigue and walk faster, but the whipping continued all the same. Ruth realized to her dismay that the men simply wanted to hurt them; the fact that they were moving too slowly was a convenient but unnecessary excuse.
At last they left the town and began to climb the Hill of Crosses. Carrying the crucifixes uphill proved to be almost impossible, and eighteen leather straps fell upon two bruised backs like rain. At one point Bathsheba stumbled and nearly fell; the guards assured her that if she did fall, they would whip her breasts until she lost consciousness. She didn't stumble again.
By the time they reached the top of the Hill, the two women could barely walk. And as they gazed out across the Hill, the last dregs of hope left them. The Hill was covered with neat, orderly rows of crosses; the crucifixes stretched out from left to right, as far as the eye could see. All were occupied, some by beautiful young women in various stages of crucifixion, others by exquisite female corpses, and some by wide-hipped skeletons. It was beautiful in its obscenity.
"All right, you cunts, drop those crosses and lay down on them," the guard ordered. With exquisite relief, Bathsheba and Ruth let their burdens fall onto the hot, scorched earth. Fearing the guards' whips, they quickly lay down as ordered, spreading their arms and resting the backs of their hands against the crossbeams. The guards approached the two women with hammers and spikes.
At this point, Bathsheba finally lost all composure. "In God's name, please, don't nail me!" she sobbed. "All I did was give my body up to men for their pleasure!"
"I know," the guard laughed. "I had you a few times myself. You've a tight, warm little cunt, and you know how to use it."
"Please, just let us go," Bathsheba whimpered. "You can have me whenever you want, for free, for ever and ever."
The guard snorted. "You think you're the only talented whore in the world?"
"Soon there may be none of us left," Bathsheba replied, nodding towards the rows of crosses.
The guard scoffed. "As fast as we nail 'em up, we don't even make a dent. The world gives us an infinite supply of whores to fuck and crucify."
"And thank God for that!" added the other guard.
"But it's so senseless," Ruth protested. "You men use our bodies, then crucify us because we bring you pleasure! Where's the justice in that?"
"It's God's will," came the reply, and with it came the first nail, driven deep and true through Ruth's tender, young palm. She began to howl and convulse, staring in horror at her ruined hand. "Hold still," the guard grumbled. "I can't get the other nail in." But Ruth was in too much pain to heed him. She thrashed about wildly on the ground as Bathsheba watched, terrified. Finally the guard seized her by the throat. "Put your other hand against that crossbeam," he said icily, "or I'll slice your clitoris from your body and feed it to you." That got her attention, and she quickly complied. The guard drove the second nail into place with a satisfying thump; Ruth's screams softened to quiet whimpering sounds. The guard checked to see if the sedulum was properly placed, but the attendant at the crucifix storeroom knew his business: the Number Six Cross was perfect for young Ruth. The guard pressed the soles of Ruth's feet against the front of the cross, so that her toes pointed towards the base of the main beam. A thick nail went easily through each foot.
"Let me help you with the other one," the guard suggested as he rose from Ruth's tortured, squirming body.
"Good idea," the other guard agreed. Each held a spike in place against one of Bathsheba's palms. "On three...one...two..."
"Oh God Oh God Oh God," Bathsheba chanted.
"THREE!" The spikes penetrated her palms simultaneously. She arched her back, thrusting her round, young breasts up into the hot sky. She had barely even begun to scream when she felt the foot spikes bore their way through her lower extremities.
"Good. Let's get 'em up." The two guards lifted Bathsheba first, raising her cross and planting it firmly into a perfectly sized square hole. Bathsheba howled as the full weight of her body came down onto the nails. She soon came to appreciate her sedulum; by resting her crotch on that uncomfortable seat, she was able to take some of her weight off of the nails.
Ruth's screams told Bathsheba that the other girl's cross had also been raised. Both were now crucified, which meant that hours of agony stood between them and death.
"Which one gets the spike?" one guard asked.
"The fuck-beast here. Give it to me, I'll do it."
"That's fine. I'm kind of in the mood to gut a girl anyway." Handing his friend a long, sharp steel spike, he drew a wicked, double-edged short sword from a scabbard at his belt.
"Oh, please," Bathsheba whimpered as the guard approached. "Isn't crucifixion enough? I'm already in agony..."
"Then a little bit more won't make much difference, will it? You heard the sentence, girl. You're going to get spiked." With no further warning, he pressed the sharp tip of the spike up against the tender pink lips of Bathsheba's pussy. The cold steel made her short, curly blonde pubic hair stand on end. He began to work the spike into her, pushing it into her cunt with uncharacteristic tenderness. Perhaps he was recalling the pleasure which her pussy had given him. She moaned softly as the spike filled her. It wasn't so bad, really; it felt quite a bit like being fucked. The spike was a lot like a cock, so thick, and so very, very hard...
At last the sharp tip came to rest against the back wall of her. She was utterly filled; her puffy, pink nipples were hard with need and desire. He continued to push the spike deeper into her body. But there was no more room; this was as far as it could go! "No, please," she whimpered. "No further..."
"It's going all the way," he assured her. Pain exploded in front of her eyes as her cervix ruptured. Now the spike moved easily through her. He guided it easily past her vital organs; he had clearly done this before. At last the spike came to rest against the inside of her throat.
"Any last words, Bathsheba?" he asked gallantly.
"Please, just let me die..." she whispered.
"You'll die," he agreed. "Eventually." And with that he pushed the spit through the wall of her throat and up into her mouth. The blood-encrusted tip of it emerged from between her sweet, red lips. Bathsheba was astonished to discover that she could still breathe; the inside of the tube was hollow, and the length of it was studded with breathing-holes. It made an unnatural whistling sound as her lungs drew air through it.
Meanwhile, the second guard approached Ruth with his gleaming blade. "Oh, please, no," she begged. "Why can't you just let us die on our crosses?"
"I don't know why you're complaining so much," he growled. "You'll probably go quicker this way."
"But it's so horrible..." she protested.
"You deserve all of this, and more," he asserted, and plunged the blade into her belly. He drew the sword up, then down, opening her steaming belly, letting her guts spill out onto the hard desert ground.
"That takes care of these two. We'd better get back."
"Yep. Plenty more sluts to nail up today."
As the two men left, Bathsheba realized that she was starting to have trouble breathing. The cross forced her arms and her ribcage into a position which made it almost impossible to draw a good breath. Instinctively, she began to raise herself up off the sedulum. That made it a bit easier to breathe, but now her full weight was on the nails. Blinding waves of agony tore into her. She drew a few precious breaths through the hollow spit which filled her body; then she allowed herself to fall back onto the sedulum once more. But as soon as she did that, she had trouble breathing once more. The cross placed her in an impossible bind, forcing her to choose between suffocation and pain. As the day wore on, she repeated the endless cycle: up off the sedulum for a few tortured breaths, then back down to ease the throbbing in her palms and feet. And all the while she stared in abject horror at the gore-coated spike which protruded from her lips. She couldn't believe that the thing was completely through her body. How was it possible that she was still alive, still conscious? And yet she was. Perhaps God truly did want to punish her for her sins.
It was a very hot day in the desert. As the afternoon wore on, Ruth felt her guts begin to bake under the searing sun. Strangely, the crucifixion itself was the least of her pains, and she quickly adapted to the rhythm of it, lifting herself off the sedulum and lowering herself back down like a natural. Indeed, Ruth and Bathsheba soon slipped into the same sedulum-rhythm, and both girls discovered a certain familiarity to it. They were fucking their sedulums, raising and lowering themselves in an agonizingly slow coitus.
Several hours into the torture, vultures began to circle overhead. They landed and began to peck and pick at Ruth's sun-dried intestines. She whimpered softly as the birds tormented her. Recognizing her helplessness, they became progressively more brazen, grasping her intestines in their beaks and pulling the guts away from Ruth's tortured body. As they did so, additional yards of tripe tumbled out of Ruth's belly, uncoiling languidly to form a magnificent feast for the greedy birds.
Towards sunset, the two girls realized that they were both near death. Now they were indeed glad for their additional tortures; as horrible as it was to be spitted or gutted, this supplemental abuse at least ensured that they would not have to endure long days of crucifixion. Ruth and Bathsheba began to go into shock as the sun finally retreated behind the horizon. Their bodies had been through such tremendous trauma that they could simply no longer continue to function. The whipping, the nailing, the crucifixion, a spike through the cunt or a blade in the gut--it was all far more than any woman could endure. Ruth tried to lift herself off the sedulum one last time, but discovered to her dismay that she couldn't move; she was completely paralyzed. With her last breath, she whispered to Bathsheba: "I love you." Her friend whimpered a response around the bloody spike which filled her mouth. Ruth felt herself strangle; she couldn't breathe at all. Her body began to convulse, and she knew that these was her death throes. She heard a gurgling sound from beside her, and knew that Bathsheba was dying, too. The two whores quivered invitingly and slipped into death with gentle simultaneity.

 

[Madiosi]

I would like this stories inserted in the next Cruxer's Digest, @riwa .
But I'm not sure, who deserve the contributions as author.
Unknown or you riwa?

 

[riwa]

They are from the old Marquis website, reposted by riwa but author unknown. How does that sound?

 

[Madiosi]

They are from the old Marquis website, reposted by riwa but author unknown. How does that sound?

That sounds good and the stories also.

 

[Madiosi]

Crucifixion for two

Ruth tried to lift herself off the sedulum one last time, but discovered to her dismay that she couldn't move; she was completely paralyzed. With her last breath, she whispered to Bathsheba: "I love you." Her friend whimpered a response around the bloody spike which filled her mouth. Ruth felt herself strangle; she couldn't breathe at all. Her body began to convulse, and she knew that these was her death throes. She heard a gurgling sound from beside her, and knew that Bathsheba was dying, too. The two whores quivered invitingly and slipped into death with gentle simultaneity.

Ok not a sunset, but similar situation. Contributions to Jastrow.

 

[riwa]

Tree of Shame

Twisting and moaning, Xena works her way back to consciousness. She remembers dimly: there was a fight, there were too many of them, she fought bravely, but to no avail. One of them struck her skull with the flat of his blade. Her memories are fragmented after that: she remembers being bound, slung over the back of a horse. She remembers the men talking amongst themselves as they rode: something about a Tree of Shame. But what could that mean?
The realizations hit her, one after the other, each worse than the last. She can't move her arms or legs. She feels the sun on her skin, on all of her skin; she's naked! She can't move her limbs because they are bound, tightly bound, to a large cross which must surely be the Tree of Shame. The sun is hot. The land is dry. The men are gone. They have left her to die here, knowing that she is a warrior princess, knowing that she will not die quickly, or easily.
She tests her bonds, her wiry muscles rippling as she strains against the tight leather cords which bind her to the cross. The slender thongs hold firm. Her massive round tits bounce exquisitely. Her supple, fluid black mane flows about her bosom as she twists and struggles.
And one thing more: she feels a sharp, biting pain between her legs, in that special sacred place for which she has no name. It is a stabbing, horrific pain, razor-sharp teeth biting into her womanhood. She tries to recall the design of the Roman cross. Yes, there is that part they call the sedulum, the seat, where the victim's crotch rests. But on this particular cross, the sedulum is made of serrated iron: an extra cruelty, just for her. If she moves her pelvis at all, even just a little bit, the vicious teeth bite into her tenderness, and that is almost more than she can bear...
Still, she can't remain where she is, not for long. That is the point of crucifixion, after all. It places the victim in a position where breathing becomes first difficult, then painful, and eventually impossible. Xena feels this, in her chest, beneath her monumental flesh spheres. She feels the horrible aching in her increasingly desperate lungs. She feels the growing tightness in her muscles. Each breath is harder than the last, and more painful, for that is the design...
At last she can take no more. She knows what she must do. She draws the deepest breath she can manage, under the circumstances. She flexes her biceps, and lifts herself up off the sedulum.
Her relief is immediate. She can breathe more freely now, and her breasts rise and fall rapidly as she fills and empties her hungry lungs. Better still, she is free of the sharp-toothed sedulum; the pain between her legs quickly fades.
Xena holds herself up for quite a while. She is very strong; it's easy for her. But as the minutes drag on, she feels a growing sense of unease. And now she sees the true cruelty of the Tree. She can stay up for quite a while, but not forever. She must come down eventually. And when she does, the sedulum awaits.
She waits until her muscles are practically screaming at her. Then, reluctantly, she lowers herself onto the iron teeth. She tries to do it as gently as possible, but the teeth still bite. She whimpers as they dig into her flesh, and curses herself for her weakness.
And now it begins again: the agonizingly slow suffocation, each breath just slightly more difficult than the last, as her respiratory muscles grow weary once more. This is followed by the all-too-short respite, as she lifts herself up, the brief beautiful moment when breathing is actually possible. And then she is back down, iron slicing into her bloody womanhood as her arm muscles rest and prepare for the next session.
It goes on like this all day. The sun is merciless, hot and sadistic; it beats down on her like a cruel master, making her sweat, punishing her. She is hungry, and very, very thirsty. But there is no food or water. There is only pain.
The sun sets, bringing some respite from the heat. But she gets no rest. How can she sleep, when she must continually lift herself up to breathe? And so she dances through the endless hours of the night, up and down, up and down, in a grim parody of sex. It is a broken and humbled Xena who greets the sunrise.
Now her ordeal begins in earnest. The sun beats down on flesh which is already burnt. She wants to cry, but she is too dehydrated; she has no tears. Proud, haughty Xena is almost out of strength. She has been on the Tree of Shame for a full day. It takes everything she has now just to lift herself up for a few quick, meager breaths. And then she is back down, onto a sedulum which has already cut her to ribbons, down, to the place where breathing is an idle fantasy, a dream of days gone by.
This is how Xena approaches her death: gradually, one step at a time, over a period of hours. She fights through the morning and into the afternoon. The pain she feels is astonishing. It is everywhere: in her wrists, where the leather bites, in her arms, which scream exhaustion, in her crotch, ravaged by the iron-toothed sedulum, and above all in her lungs, always empty, always starving. And yet it is so hard to die. She cannot do it, as long as she has the tiniest bit of energy left, as long as she has any fight in her at all. She cannot. They know that, these men who have put her here. They know that she will die only when there are no other options.
At last that moment comes. She reaches a point where she tries to lift her body up and--to her astonishment, and infinite shame--fails. Her strength is spent. She cannot save herself. She cannot breathe. She is finished.
She opens her mouth and emits a silent scream, despair flowing through her body as her lungs rebel and rupture. Conquered, brutalized, utterly humiliated and perfectly dominated, Xena shudders and twitches and, finally, expires.

 

[riwa]

Crucify

I got a bowling ball in my stomach
I got a desert in my mouth
Figures that my COURAGE would choose to sell out now.

The cross is beautiful. I want it so much, and I can feel it wanting me. I can feel Him wanting me, and I want Him so bad. I need to feel Him inside me, and there's only one way that can happen...
For hours I just stand there, staring at the cross. My nipples are painfully stiff against my pink tube top. I'm not wearing any panties under my black miniskirt, and my pussy is dripping. I lift the skirt and finger myself gently. It feels good, but...it's not enough. It's not Him.
I grow angry with myself. What's holding me back? Why can't I just let go and do it?

I've been raising up my hands
Drive another nail in
Just what GOD needs
One more victim

The sedulum feels incredible against my miniskirted crotch. I use the seat to rub myself through the thin black leather. Slowly, timidly, I lift the skirt, revealing myself to Him. I'm not usually so shy, but, well, it's Him. I've trimmed my bright red pubic hair into a cross shape. The cross points straight down towards my most sinful part. I'm absolutely drenched with arousal, and I'm sure I could make myself come if I rubbed the sedulum against myself long enough, but Jesus, it just wouldn't be the same.
Nervous, quivering, I move my left leg towards the ankle shackle. I take a deep breath. Then I plunge my leg through the shackle.
The ankle fetter automatically closes and locks. I throw my head back, swallow hard, and put my right leg through its shackle. The manacle locks into place, and I'm halfway to heaven.
I can still change my mind. It only takes one hand to throw the release switch. That means I could even shackle one wrist if I wanted to.
And I do want to.
I whimper as the automatic shackle closes tightly around my left wrist. My heart is pounding. I smell of sweat and arousal. I grind my pussy against the sedulum. It feels so fucking great. But it still isn't enough.
My hand creeps steadily towards the fourth shackle. I'm so close. So ready. I can do it. I know I can. I'm almost there. Just a little further. I close my eyes. Don't think about it. Don't think about what it means. Don't think about what you're giving up. Just do it.
I cry out in terror and ecstasy as the final shackle closes around my wrist. I've done it at last! Finally I will suffer and die on the cross for my sins. I've always known I would die like this, ever since I was twelve, ever since the first time I masturbated.
The timer is set for half an hour. That's how long I have to anticipate, to dread, perhaps to change my mind--now that my crucifixion is inevitable.
But I'm not going to change my mind. I know I'm not. I made the right choice. I grind my pelvis against the sedulum. My nipples are like rocks. It's some of the best foreplay I've ever had, but I'm ready for the main event.
I come as the nails go through my wrists. It's a blinding, spectacular orgasm, the most astonishingly intense climax I've ever experienced. About thirty seconds after my orgasm begins, it plateaus and begins to fade into soft warmth. That's when the ankle nails penetrate me. I've timed it perfectly. My orgasm reaches new heights. I feel no pain at all for minutes after the nails go into me, because I'm too busy coming, coming joyously, in a profound, religious ecstasy.

Why do we crucify ourselves
Every day I crucify myself
Nothing I do is good enough for you
Crucify myself
Every day I crucify myself

I gotta have my suffering
So that I can have my cross

I know now why I crucify myself. I know at last. The nails went through my wrists about two hours ago. Since then, He has been making love to me, slowly, passionately. He is the best lover I've ever had. I lose track of my orgasms. Best of all, I know that our lovemaking will last for days.
It hurts now. My blood runs down my arms in tiny rivulets. Blood from my ankles trickles down onto the floor. I feel my sins flowing out of my veins. I'm in so much pain...but it's wonderful pain, like losing my virginity, which hurt like hell but felt great all at the same time. I don't mind the pain. I cherish it. It's part of His love for me.
We make love all through the night, the way two people who've wanted each other for a very long time do it when they finally get around to consummating their lust. I should be exhausted by the time the sun finally comes up, but I'm not. I feel invigorated. I'm a little thirsty and I can't feel my arms any more. But none of that matters, because He's still inside me. The cross is his cock, and it is always hard and ready. He gives me what no mere mortal ever could: an endless, heavenly fuck.
As our second day together begins, I realize that I'm having a little trouble breathing. I expected that. It means it's time for me to raise myself up off the sedulum. I close my eyes and try to swallow, but I still have a desert in my mouth. I pull myself up, just a few inches, and am instantly rewarded by blazing pain in my palms and ankles. I try to scream, but my mouth is too dry; I'm dehydrated from sweat and blood loss. I can only gasp a little. Pulling myself off the sedulum makes breathing a little easier. I manage to force down a few tortured breaths before collapsing in tears onto my little seat.
Crucifixion is such an incredible torture. I can sit on the sedulum and strangle, or pull myself up and let searing agony tear through my limbs. I hardly know which pain to choose, but that's OK. My body chooses for me. I dance through an endless cycle: up to breathe, down when the pain from the nails is too much.
Slowly, patiently, my lover draws me towards my final climax. I know that He has saved the best for last.

Save me
I CRY

By which I mean, "take me." And he does. He's fucking me hard now. We're getting close. I can barely breathe at all now; I'm able to life myself off the sedulum for only a few moments at a time.
The strangulation has done something to me, as I had hoped it would. My sexual pleasure is much more intense now. I feel the sedulum hard against my dripping cunt. I whimper with need. My climax is near; I can taste it, and I know that it's the real one.
I need to breathe, so I try to pull myself off the sedulum. But I can't, which means it's time. I feel the climax build inside me. It starts in my belly, then engulfs my cunt, and finally consumes the rest of me. I've never come so hard in my life. I wish I could scream. Instead I turn my face to the heavens, giving myself to Him. I offer my mute, tortured body as a sacrifice, and He takes me, and fills me, and makes me complete. I relax and let my chin roll forward onto my chest.

 

[riwa]

Time to hang for daddy​

The television program ended promptly at 8. But there was nothing he wanted to watch afterwards. So what was there to do?

He looked over to see his daughter hadn’t even bothered with the TV. She was texting on her iPhone again. It seemed like she was on that thing 24 hours a day. Maybe that should be his next project.

He looked up and saw movement on the wall. He got his daughter’s attention and pointed it out to her. “Miriam, is that a spider I see?”

She looked up from her iPhone in annoyance at the interruption. She saw where her father was pointing until her eyes located it. “Yeah, so?”

“Doesn’t it bother you seeing it up there, honey? Do you want me to get rid of it for you?”

“That little thing, daddy? Really?”

She snorted in disgust as she got up from her chair. She didn’t bother to get a swatter, a piece of paper or anything. She just smacked it with her hand, instantly squashing it.

“Geez, daddy; it’s just a spider. What’s the big deal?”

“It didn’t scare you?”

“Why should it scare me?” Then she rolled her eyes.

“Daddy, how can I text my friends when you keep interrupting? I’m going to my room.” Then she got up and left the living room.

He watched her ass wriggle suggestively as she walked out of the room. It stirred some dark desires within. Besides, the mark on her neck had pretty much faded away from the last time.

He told himself he probably shouldn’t. But he was already getting hard just thinking about it. At least he would have her undivided attention for a few minutes while getting her off that blasted iPhone.

He nervously cleared his throat. Then he called out, “Honey? Isn’t it time you hanged for daddy?” His heart was pounding in his chest.

He waited five minutes, listening to the sound of thumping and bumping coming from her room. Then he unzipped his fly, releasing his erection. He decided it would be ok since his wife wouldn’t be home from the hospital for another couple of hours.

He waited another five minutes, wondering if she was rebelling. Maybe it wouldn’t work this time. Then his breath caught in his throat as he heard her call out, “Come in, daddy. I’m ready for my hanging.”

He quickly got out of his clothes. Then he walked to her room. He opened the door to see her standing on a chair in the nude with her arms behind her back.

She was balanced precariously on a pair of high heels. She had also managed to cuff her wrists together behind her back after getting herself up there, just the way he liked. And her proud breasts were now exposed for him to enjoy.

A thick hemp noose came down from a hook in the ceiling right next to her bed. It looped snugly around her neck as her eyes flashing excitedly. The other end had been tied off.

“Like my necklace, daddy? I tied it just for you.”

“And you did a really good job tying it, honey. It looks great.”

“I can’t wait to hang for you, daddy. Can you tell how excited I am? C’mon… feel how wet I am! I like it when you play with my pussy and my tits!”

He walked right up to her, his cock saluting her sexy body. She looked down at it and licked her lips. Then he stuck his fingers into her cleanly shaved slit while groping and fondling her breasts.

She moaned as her pussy clenched around his wriggling fingers. She gasped as she writhed and whimpered. “I love it when you see how wet and excited I am for you, daddy.”

“I love it too, honey.”

“Do you like my hard nipples?”

“They’re very sexy, honey.”

“You turn me on so much, daddy. Can I kick up my heels for you now? Let me down and I’ll kick up my heels for you.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up off the chair. He shoved it away with a foot. Then he slowly lowered her until the noose took her full weight, her heels wriggling a couple inches off the floor.

At first she winced, her feet fluttering anxiously for the oak floor beneath her. But it wasn’t to be. Then she managed a grimace of a smile as she started to kick.

She swung back and forth, her legs kicking in a ballet as her feet continued the futile search for solid footing. She gawked and gurgled as she tried to thrust her hips outward. That’s when he asked, “Want daddy to finger you again, honey?”

She nodded as her face began to turn red. He stepped up to her and finger-fucked her pussy. She glurked and clenched until she shuddered in orgasm.

“Did you just cum, honey?” She nodded again as her eyes began to roll.

“Would you like daddy to give you a flying fuck?” She nodded once more, almost eagerly.

He walked up to her as she brought her legs up and wrapped them around his waist. She was quite wet; his cock slid right in. She took him deep inside her and then started riding him, trying to pull herself upward for some air as she let out little choking sounds.

“Feels good, honey. Does it feel good to you as well?” Somehow she managed to nod her head.

“Want daddy to cum inside you?” There was another nod of the head.

He began to thrust as she eagerly rode him. She gurgled as her vagina kept clenching around his thrusting shaft. Then her eyes rolled again as she started to shudder.

He could feel how deep and profound her orgasm was. A moment later his cock went off inside her. She gurgled and trembled as her body accepted the creamy gift. Then he slowly pulled out.

His cum dripped out of her pussy onto the floor as she gently swung back and forth. She shuddered one last time as she tried to breathe. Then she lost all consciousness as fluid trickled down her legs onto the floor. He would have a little mess to clean up, but he felt it was worth it.

When she awakened she was lying naked in her bed. The noose was still looped loosely around her throat, although it did not go up into the hook in the ceiling. She was aware of a buzzing in her cunt.

She moaned with a little smile as she reached down and grasped onto her vibrator. Then she grabbed onto the noose around her neck, pulling it hard and then fucking herself as she strangled herself. A moment later she had another mammoth orgasm that battered her senseless.

Her friends would keep; she could text them later. Right now she felt absolutely wonderful. She loved that sexy dream she kept having about daddy fucking her while she hanged in the noose. It felt strangely painful as it tired her out. But she loved how it made her feel like she was floating on air, especially with all the orgasms she got to experience.
--
His wife walked through the door, looking as though she’d been on her feet for hours. He looked up from his chair to ask, “Long day at the hospital, honey?”

“It was a very long day. I’m dead on my feet.” Then she looked around before asking, “Where’s Miriam?”

“Oh, you know her. She was texting all night to her friends. Last I looked she was, well… you know.”

“Playing with her noose and those toys again? I wish she’d find something else to use to masturbate with. Maybe you can use your hypnosis technique on her to break her of that. At least you got her to quit being scared of spiders.”

“Yeah. In fact she killed one this evening with her bare hand.”

“That’s not the Miriam I used to know. I like the way you helped her conquer her fear. Anyway I’m going to bed.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“I’m too damned tired to eat.” Then she headed off to the back bedroom.

He watched her go, enjoying the way her ass wriggled suggestively. Like mother, like daughter. But thinking of Miriam in the noose quickly triggered another erection.

Maybe he shouldn’t… aw, hell; why not. Then he gently called out, “Honey?”

“Not tonight, darling. I’m all worn out.”

“Isn’t it time you hanged for daddy?” There was no response.

He waited ten minutes, listening to the thumping and bumping from their bedroom. He couldn’t help smiling inwardly. She was just as sexy dangling in midair as their daughter Miriam.

He waited until a familiar voice called out, “Come in, daddy. I’m ready for my hanging.” She certainly didn’t sound tired anymore.

He quickly got out of his clothes. Then he walked to their room. He opened the door to see her standing on a chair in the nude with her arms behind her back, her proud breasts exposed for him to enjoy.

A thick hemp noose came down from a hook in their ceiling right next to the bed. It looped snugly around her neck, her eyes flashing excitedly. One end had already been tied off. She was standing in those high heels he enjoyed seeing her wear.

“Like my necklace, daddy? I tied it just for you.”

“And you did really well, honey. It looks great.”

“I can’t wait to hang for you, daddy. Can you tell how excited I am? C’mon… feel how wet I am!”

(Mar 22 ’18)

(From an idea by Miriam. Written for her and inspired by a story on Dark Spot by Scarr aka Miss Annie Delacord.)​

 

[riwa]

Kathy’s Ordeal​

My heart raced as I attempted to pedal my way through a vicious hangover. I silently cursed my indiscretion of the previous evening--but I smiled to myself as I did so. It sure had been a helluva lot of fun, and I knew damn well that I'd be doing it all over again the next weekend.
At least, that's what I thought at the time. Little did I know that my world was just about to end.
I decided to put in a couple more klicks on the exercise bike, then hit the showers. The endorphins would be kicking in soon; they'd help to blunt my throbbing headache. It had been a good workout, with plenty of aerobic action to burn off the calories of last night's vodka, and I had done a lot of free-weight work to sculpt and tone this bod which the boys love so much. To my amazement, I found that I was almost satisfied with the state of my belly. I was starting to get some real definition there; frankly, I had never looked better.
I had just started to slow down when they came for me. I smiled. There were six of them. They were all black, and all of them were well over six feet tall. I recognized them from last night's frat party. I didn't remember their names. I knew they were all on the basketball team, and I was pretty sure I had fucked most or maybe all of them. It had been that kind of a night.
I stepped off the bike and grabbed my towel. They were all looking at me, and why not? I knew I looked pretty damned good in my short-cropped grey tank top and tight black cycling shorts. I had put a lot of sculpting work into my body, while carefully avoiding any exercises that might reduce my bust. The result was enough to get the attention of any straight male.
"Hey, guys," I said cheerfully. "What's up?"
"Explain it to her," said the biggest one. There was something really disturbing in his voice. I glanced around the gym; the seven of us were the only ones in the whole place. It was almost closing time, and it was the last day of classes before spring break. The place was abandoned. I suddenly felt very alone.
"After your performance last night, we've decided to let you help us with a little fraternity project," said the smallest of the six black men. Though shorter than the rest, he was still considerably taller than me. He was completely bald, and he wore small, round glasses. "You see, Kathy, the party last night pretty much exhausted our frat's treasury. We need to raise some money. So we're going to make a little movie, and we want you to be the star."
I felt myself turning bright red. "What, you mean a porno movie? I don't know, you guys...I mean, I like to party, but that's a little far-out even for me..."
"It's not exactly a porno movie, Kathy," he observed. "Take her, men."
Suddenly there were eight strong hands on my arms. I was pinned, unable to move. But why? Last night I had done all of them willingly. They didn't have to rape me...
They dragged me kicking and screaming to the edge of the gym. One of them began setting up a tripod; I saw that they had a video camera with them. The men who were holding me pressed me up against the wall of the gym. I felt cool, polished pine against my back (our gym is wood paneled; it's really nice). They lifted my arms, pushing my wrists against the wood. My biceps bulged as I struggled against them, but I knew it was hopeless. I was strong for a girl, but they were stronger, and there were too many of them.
"What the fuck do you guys think you're doing?" I screamed. "Let me go right now, goddamn it!"
"Gym's locked," one of the frat brothers reported. "Ain't nobody comin' in here for a whole week."
"Good," replied the bald one, who seemed to be their leader. "Let's get this bitch nailed up."
Nailed? Sweet Jesus, what...?
Two of them came towards me at once, each carrying a huge hammer and an oversized steel spike. The spikes looked like tent pegs, and I recalled that you could check out camping equipment here at the gym. I drew a deep breath and got ready to make some kind of desperate protest, but I didn't have time. I felt the tips of the nails press into my palms, and then the mallets were swinging back. I tried to move, but four black hands held me fast, and then there was the purest blinding white pain I had ever felt in my life. As the blazing agony slowly faded, I realized that I was screaming at the top of my lungs. But the only people who could possibly hear me were the same ones who had quite intentionally done this to me.
"Oh, God," I whimpered, tears streaming down my cheeks. "A snuff film...you're making a snuff film..."
"That's right, bitch," the bald one agreed. "And you're our bright young starlet. Don't you feel honored?"
They began by raping me, of course. They cut the shorts off my hips, and then they cut away the tight yellow panties beneath to reveal my tight, bald quim. They each took a turn. It was bizarre. I had never been raped before. I mean, rape is so unnecessary with someone like me. I'm such a goddamned nymphomaniac; I never say no. And to tell you the truth, rape didn't seem all that different from ordinary fucking to me. I mean, just last night I had taken on these guys with great enthusiasm. And even though I was now terrified and unwilling, my body didn't know the difference. It slipped into the familiar rhythm almost automatically. Who knows? Maybe part of me secretly hoped that I could earn mercy with my cunt. In any case I had even managed to lube up a little by the time the third one entered me--or maybe it was just the semen of the first two oozing out of me, whatever, but it did make things easier and less painful.
I also found that if I wrapped my legs around a guy's waist while he was inside me, I could lift myself up a little and take some of the weight off the nails in my palms. That was a godsend.
"Goddamn!" the sixth one gasped as he came into me. "This bitch just doesn't quit!"
"That's why I picked her," the leader explained. "She has more stamina than any girl I've ever seen. She'll last a week, easy. We'll keep the raw footage for ourselves. And we'll edit the tapes down into the best damn feature-length snuff film that's ever been made." He turned to me. "You're going to be famous, Kathy."
It was a kind of fame I could have done without.
They left me there all night, nailed to the wall of the gym, sobbing, mostly naked, with half a dozen flavors of semen running down my thighs. They returned for me in the morning.
"Rise and shine, Kathy," the leader said cheerfully. "It's time to get started. I figure we'll limit ourselves to one torture per day. That way we can be sure you'll last the whole week. Let's start you out with some whipping." He produced a stiff leather crop and went to work on me. I howled as the sharp leather cut into my flesh. I had played some bondage games before, but I had never been into S and M. No one had ever hurt me like this before. He lashed my belly ruthlessly, viciously lacerating the taut tummy muscles of which I was so proud. Soon my lean, firm midriff was crisscrossed with bright red whipping marks.
"Oh, please, stop!" I sobbed as he handed the whip to the next man.
The new torturer laughed and pointed towards the camera. "Say it into the lens, bitch," he said cruelly. "We gonna make you a star."
"I don't want to be a star," I moaned. "Oh, please, I just want to go home."
"Of course you do," the leader murmured. "That's why we're doing this to you." And now the second man took up where his leader had left off, lashing my naked thighs with the stiff, bloody crop. My body shuddered; I was wracked with sobs. I realized that I was crying like a little girl, and suddenly that's what I felt like: very young, very scared, and totally helpless.
They whipped me from head to toe. It took hours. I passed out several times, only to have buckets of cold water thrown over me whenever I lost consciousness. They remarked that my tits looked nice under my clinging, wet grey tank top. My tits looked so nice, in fact, that they decided to take a break and rape me again. I was secretly relieved. Being gang-raped was sure a lot nicer than being whipped. And once again I found that my body was more willing than I was, so I decided to let it do its thing. After all, I wanted to encourage them to fuck me rather than torturing me. But in heart I knew that they were going to do both.
By the end of the day I was lacerated all over: arms, legs, belly, even my cheeks. They had been quite thorough, and yet for some reason they hadn't touched my tits. The tank top was still conspicuously in place, although I was otherwise quite naked.
The next morning I discovered why they had been saving my tits. The first thing they did was to cut away my tank top and the skimpy yellow sports bra beneath it. My tits aren't really that big, but they are nice and round, and very firm. And I have big pink nipples which are very responsive.
The bald one, the leader, took out a black leather wallet. He extracted from this what I realized to my dismay was a scalpel. "Today," he informed me. "We'll see how much I learned in my pre-med classes." And with that he sliced into my breast. He cut a very deep incision, starting at my nipple and going up almost to my collarbone.
I screamed as I had never screamed before. I kicked, I writhed, I howled, but nothing could stop the pain, the violation. He made an identical incision in my other breast. One of his underlings handed him a vial, and as he began to sprinkle the contents liberally into my wounds, I realized that it was crushed glass. I couldn't speak, could barely breathe; I was transfixed by the torment and by their limitless cruelty. How could they possibly do something like this to me, or to anyone? But there was the answer, in the corner of my eye: the lens, watching it all, turning my pain into profit.
He sewed me up like a torn garment, stitching my breasts closed with surgical silk while I shivered, naked and in more pain than I could comprehend. I looked down in horror at my mutilated breasts. They were slightly enlarged because of the glass; in fact, I had to admit, they looked better than ever.
They spent the rest of the day raping me, and this time even my body's fabled fuck-instincts failed me. I tried to relax and let it happen, as I had done so many times before. But the glass in my breasts made it impossible. They grabbed my tits roughly as they raped me, sending stabbing spikes of white-hot pain from my breasts straight into my brain. I lost track of the cocks. One huge black dick entered me after another, and they were all interminably hard. Howling, screaming in agony, I could do nothing but take it.
By the end of the day, I was sure there was nothing left inside my tits but chopped meat. Even if I somehow managed to live through this, I would be maimed for life, crippled, my days of carefree fucking done forever.
I began to long for death, but I knew that several endless days of hell still stood between me and that boon.
The next day it was electric shocks. They had acquired a cattle prod from one of the ag science majors, and it gave them great pleasure to run that abominable thing over every square inch of my body. The camera took it all in, and according to my tormentors, it was great footage. The boys loved the way my naked white body jumped and danced under the prod. They soon got the hang of the controls, and they found that they could keep me going indefinitely, as long as they varied the current. I would pass out after just a few moments at the maximum setting, but they could then wake me up with smaller shocks, and before long I was responding fully to the torture once again.
I remember this as one of the longest days. I don't know if they really did spend more time on me that day, or if it just seemed that way. I was certainly starting to lose track of time by then, and I was probably beginning to lose my mind as well. But I'm pretty sure that the cattle prod session was a marathon. They stopped several times to give me water. I wouldn't last a week without that, after all. They also stopped to eat, though of course they offered me no food. I thought, but did not say, that this violated the "one torture per day" rule. I was ravenous. I am a girl of very little body fat, and I hadn't eaten in days. The site of food was driving me mad, but I knew they would never give me any. All I could do was watch them eat, and try to be grateful for the fact that the prod remained inactive during their meal.
Soon enough they returned to the torture. They shocked me all over, but my breasts were a favorite target. They focused especially on my big, stiff pink nipples. Even on the lowest setting, the prod could give me astonishing pain there. My nipples were perfect flesh terminals, an ideal place for the prod to interface with my body.
Nor did they forget my cunt. That's probably the other reason why that day seemed so long: when the torture finally shaded off into rape, as it always did, they decided not to use their own cocks. They used the prod instead. We seemed to be moving closer to the climax of their little snuff film; they were torturing me pretty much constantly at this point. As it raped me, the prod gave a new meaning to my pain. My thighs gripped it, pulling it into me (after all, it was a kind of cock, and I didn't know how to do anything else with such an instrument). But it was larger than a flesh cock, and harder, and it stayed hard forever, and at the touch of a button it sent searing electric agony through my cervix to every part of my body.
By then their prod skills were so good that they never gave me quite enough juice to make me pass out. I had to admire their restraint.
I don't remember much about the next couple of days. I think that one day was for knives, and one was for branding irons. No, wait...they started with knives, and then decided I was losing too much blood, and then they began to cauterize the knife wounds with hot irons. I think that was it. I'm not sure. I drifted in and out of consciousness, until the leader reached into his medical kit and gave me some kind of stimulant. Then they continued with the knives and irons, I think, slicing me open, then burning me shut, sometimes salting the wounds before cauterizing them, and then one of them picked up the cattle prod again, and somebody brought out the whip from way back when, and suddenly they were getting creative, improvising, throwing caution to the wind as we got close to the end. It was like a perverse kind of "greatest hits," a review of every horror they had visited upon me for the past week. I didn't care. I couldn't care. The only thing that concerned me now was how they were going to end me.
There was some debate about that, actually. They wanted a spectacular ending to what they seemed certain would be a blockbuster snuff film. One of them wanted to shoot me many times with a small caliber pistol. Another favored shoving a hot iron up my snatch and holding it there until I died.
"No," the leader said firmly. "Kathy hangs."
Why not? It was about the only thing they hadn't tried yet.
I gasped in relief as the nails finally came out of my palms, but I was so weak from torture and hunger that I nearly fell over. The leader laughed as his thugs lifted me up. "If we'd crucified you for real, Kathy, you'd be dead by now; you would have strangled. We nailed your palms to the wall, but we let you keep your feet on the floor. That's why you're still kicking."
A little drool ran down my chin. I had neither the strength nor the desire to say "thank you."
They carried my naked, quivering body to the nearest basketball hoop. There was the noose, dangling from the support, just behind the backboard. I was tremendously glad to see it. It represented my only escape from this living hell. I didn't resist at all as they slipped it around my neck and tightened it up. They didn't even bother to bind me; that's how far gone I was by then. They hauled me up--not quite all the way, just onto my toes. They watched me convulse for a while. I could have lasted a long time like that, I think, if I had been fresh. As it was...
They decided to take me again, one last time. I accepted them willingly. They had broken me completely by then. I was docile, tractable, a piece of obedient meat for them to use as they pleased. I think they enjoyed me. I was fairly limp and I didn't move much, but they could still stimulate cunt action by squeezing my glass-filled tits, and that's exactly what they did. I got each one of them off, until at last their leader was inside me again.
"This is it, Kathy," he told me as he fucked me, "Your big finish. Smile for the camera, bitch. You're gonna make us rich."
I gurgled. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled down, drawing the noose tighter around my throat. His cock was extraordinarily thick inside me. I felt myself starting to die. He caressed my breasts, working the crushed glass into them. My body filled with pains too numerous and diverse to mention. I pissed on his cock. That's the last thing I remember.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that hell actually does exist, and that they spend one day torturing you for each act of premarital sex you committed when you were alive. I'm going to be here for a very long time. They tell me that my snuff film became an instant classic, a real best seller. It's not very comforting.

 

[riwa]

https://web.archive.org/web/20030803112948/http://www.scrye.com:80/~marquis/
The rest of his stories can be found there, including a variety of other methods of dying/executions.

 

[hongzu117]

I like these stories, especially the first one and the last one.Many of torture method in these stories I read for the first time.
Thank you for sharing，are their authors the same?

 

[riwa]

They were all located on the same website. I don't know if they were all written b y the same author Chez Marquis or not.

 

[riwa]

Berlin 1945
​

Odelia didn’t know what scared her most: exploding artillery shells getting closer and closer? Or the deafening silence of the past 24 hours. There was no food, water or electricity. A heavy pall of smoke hung over the city.

She often stared at the radio, praying the power would come back on so she would have some word of what was happening. Then she heard evidence of activity outside. She went to the window of her apartment and peeked out, only to see Russian soldiers everywhere. It drove her back to the interior of her apartment, cowering with fear.

She’d eaten the last of her rations a couple days ago. She’d heard neighbors in the hall speaking of Russian food trucks. They also spoke of young women being raped and violated. The fear kept her from venturing outside her apartment to find food.

That night the screams began, screams that seemed to come from everywhere. She cowered in terror, her eyes wide with fear. When would it be her turn?

Somewhere she heard a faraway door slam, followed by the sound of Russian voices and more screams. They were close, perhaps one or two apartments away. The cries were haunting and penetrating.

What could she do – what could she do?? She was only one woman. If soldiers wanted to rape her, there would be nothing she could do to prevent it.

Could she escape from her apartment building; could she flee Berlin? She highly doubted it. An attractive woman like her would eventually be caught and raped. Afterwards they might kill her just for spite. So what could she do?

She rummaged around her apartment until she found a rope, one that had been used many years ago to help move her belongings into this apartment. She stared at it as though hypnotized. Then she made a loop with it, only to stare at it again.

The lights suddenly came on as the radio blared to life. Odelia let out a cry as she rushed to shut the damned thing off. She turned off all the lights except for one dim bulb.

Had the Russians heard? Would they come check her apartment next? What could she do??

Almost without thinking she took the rope and formulated it into a noose. She cinched it tight, only to stare at it in shock. Could she really go through with it?

More screams from across the street made her rush to hang her noose from a hook up in the ceiling. She pulled experimentally to see if it would hold her weight. So far, so good.

Her heart hammered in her chest. Odelia realized she was aroused… aroused by terror. Her nipples were hard and her pussy was damp. Her dress hung down from her shoulders, exposing her breasts.

How long had she been wearing it that way? In her fear she could not recall. What did it matter? Any modesty she had would be permanently removed once the Russians penetrated her apartment.

More voices, more screams, more doors being thrown open. Had they entered the apartment building? How long would it be before they came to her door, searching for female flesh?

She jerked at every scream, every slam of a door. She couldn’t think straight. What was happening out there??

Without even realizing she was doing it, Odelia lifted up her skirt and began to masturbate. Another scream, and she stiffened in terror. Her pussy was wet and dripping.

Another door slammed two floors below her. Odelia gasped in horror. She stiffened and then shuddered as a shameful climax washed through her.

With pleasure came a return of some of her senses. She heard footsteps coming up the stairwell; loud, booted footsteps. She inhaled sharply before turning to look at her noose.

More screams, one floor below her. Odelia let out a clipped cry as she instinctively reached over for a chair. She slid it directly underneath the noose, her hands trembling as her whole body started to shake.

More voices, Russian voices. More screams from somewhere below her. It sounded like the cries were getting closer… like an unstoppable wave approaching the shore.

There were slams of doors… the sound of more boots on the stairs down the halls. More shrieks of terror. Odelia gasped as she shakily climbed the chair.

She was trembling so bad she had to use the noose to steady herself as she stood upon it. She stared at the coil framing her face as though unsure she could make herself go through with it. If she couldn’t, did that mean she was willing to allow herself to be raped… perhaps murdered later??

She stood there gasping for breath, her eyes wide with fright. Then she heard a scream in the apartment directly below her. She knew that one belonged to Mrs. Johanson. Supposedly her husband was somewhere on the Eastern front.

Odelia was unsteady on her feet on the chair as she numbly brought the noose down over her head. She shivered as she snugged it around her neck. The hemp scratched her throat

Her chest heaved as she inhaled… exhaled… inhaled… exhaled. Directly below she heard moans of despair… loud grunts of violent sex. Her eyes remained open wide, her pussy dripping now from her terror. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest.

She touched the noose around her neck with one hand… absentmindedly lifted the hem of her dress to finger herself with the other. She could hardly catch her breath. Then she thought she heard boots on the stairs again.

Somewhere down the hall another scream. They were on her floor! Numb with shock, Odelia stepped off the chair, her fingers rammed up her cunt.

She dropped, the noose pulling her up short of the floor by a couple of inches. She kicked the chair over, momentarily panicked it would be heard by someone. Then she gurgled as she started kicking while humping the fingers up her cunt.

Another door slam… another scream much closer to her apartment. Odelia climaxed in terror as the noose choked off her airway. Her legs kicked wildly as she swung back and forth.

One hand found her breast and savagely mauled it. The other somehow managed to thrust fingers hard up her cunt. Odelia masturbated on pure reflexive instinct as she kicked and struggled in the noose.

Her face turned red as her tongue protruded. She shuddered as a small wave of pleasure washed through her. Then her arms dropped to hang limp at her sides, her body twitching and spasming.

Gone was the terror. In her expression was the faintest hint of a smile. She was no longer afraid. Now she welcomed them. And with that her bladder released as a pleasant aftershock rippled through her.

Ten minutes later her door flew open. Two horny Russian soldiers burst in, looking for someone to fuck. They found it dangling from a noose.

They rushed forward, but it was too late. The body was still warm. One of them discovered she was wearing no panties… and her pussy was soaked.

Private Olkashev decided a warm, dead body was better than no body at all. He pulled down his pants and thrust his hard cock deep inside her. Raping a dangling corpse was preferable to no sex at all.

He pulled her down onto his cock and thrust hard. She did not seem to care. On the contrary, it was almost as though there was an enigmatic smile on her face… as though she welcomed his violation.

When he was done, his partner took a turn. She gave him that same enigmatic smile… as though thoroughly enjoying the attention. The two soldiers stayed for an hour, enjoying her corpse until they were satisfied. Then they left her there, dangling quietly with copious amounts of Russian spunk dripping out of her well-fucked cunt, looking as though she had enjoyed the experience…

(Jan 30 ’18)

(Inspired by a manip in Soloplayer’s albums)

 

[AlexArts]

Russian

Should i be silent?.. To stop my wave of anger deep within..?

 

[riwa]

Training a noose-whore​

It all started quite by accident. I encountered her on a lonely road 20 miles from my home. She’d run into car trouble and the battery had died on her cell phone.

I didn’t have a cell phone on me. But I offered to take her back to my place so she could call for a tow. She thanked me and got into the passenger seat.

She was about 5’6” and 130 pounds with blue-green eyes, short brown hair and a slender figure. She was wearing a light grey skirt, a white blouse and black, low heeled shoes.

Her breasts were modest, yet attractive. She had rich, full lips that looked like they were made for sucking. Almost immediately I imagined what she would look like downstairs in my special room

I got her home and offered her some juice from my fridge. She was appreciative and said she would accept. So I added a few of my special drops before giving it to her.

She said her name was Miriam and she was traveling to meet some friends. She said she must have taken a wrong turn and gotten lost before her car broke down on her. She was about to ask for my phone to call for a tow when she got sleepy.

I told her she could nap right there on my couch if she was tired. Then she dozed off. She never did place that call for a tow truck.

I carried her to a back bedroom where I secured her ankles together with some rope. I tied her arms behind her to make sure she couldn’t go anywhere. Then I left her there to sleep it off as I went down to the basement to make my preparations.

An hour later she started hollering for help. I went up and saw she had fully awakened. She wanted to know why I had tied her up.

I told her I was a pervert and that I had plans for her. That really freaked her out, and she started screaming for help. We were miles from my nearest neighbors, but I didn’t want to listen to that shrieking all day long. So I gagged her with a scarf.

I told her I was making preparations and for her to get ready. She whimpered as I left her there to finish what I was working on downstairs. When I was done I removed my shirt, put on my black hood and then went back up to fetch her.

Her eyes went wide when she saw me bare chested while wearing a hood. She whimpered and shook her head as I picked her up. Then I carried her over my shoulder down the stairs as she grunted the whole time.

I took her into the room I had prepared. Inside was a small stage where I’d built a gallows. A thick, rough hemp noose dangled right there in plain sight.

Her eyes flew open in horror, and she started shaking her head, screaming her lungs out as I carried her over to it. I stood her up and forced the noose around her neck. Then I snugged it up.

Her eyes were wide in terror as I pulled the slack out of the rope. I gave her a little bit of tension, her body lifted up just enough so she was forced to stand on the balls of her feet in her shoes. Then I left her there for fifteen minutes as I went back upstairs to get myself a drink.

When I came back down I caught her sniffling and whimpering. I removed the noose from around her neck, carried her into the next room, removed her shoes, and then put her down on the mattress on the floor.

I went back upstairs, leaving her there for the next 45 minutes. When I came back down it looked like she’d been sobbing. I was still wearing my hood and jeans.

I just smiled as I picked her up and carried her back to the gallows. She started crying out again as I noosed her back up. This time I stood there and watched as she swayed in place on her feet with her ankles still tied off.

She jerked her bound arms behind her back as she whimpered pitifully, her breath rasping around that scarf in her mouth. My cock grew hard in my jeans as I watched her. At one point she looked down at my crotch where I’m certain she saw my bulge.

After fifteen minutes I freed her from the noose and took her back to the room with the mattress on the floor. I left her there for another 45 minutes. Then I returned.

I checked her arms and ankles to make sure I had not cut off the flow of blood. Then I carried her back to the gallows. Once more I noosed her up and took out all the slack so she was experiencing a certain tightness around her throat.

I got a pair of scissors as she whimpered through her gag. I carefully removed her blouse, cutting around her arms while leaving everything else intact. Then I stood there watching her for the remaining fifteen minutes before freeing her from the noose and carrying her back to her room.

I had left her on the mattress again and was about to leave when she said something through her gag. I asked her if she was going to scream anymore. She shook her head no. So I removed the gag before leaving her all alone. I was surprised she remained true to her word. But maybe she figured crying out wasn’t going to do her any good.

45 minutes later I came back down. I picked her up and carried her back to the gallows. “Wh-why are you doing this?” she stammered.

“Because I’m a pervert and I’m training you to become a noose-whore.”

“You mean you’re going to h-hang me??” I just nodded my head.

“NO! You CAN’T!”

In response I noosed her back up, snugging the rope tight around her throat. Then I pulled her up onto the balls of her feet again so she could not rock back onto her heels without some discomfort. Her eyes reflected the fear she was experiencing.

She stood there panting for breath as I admired her, my cock hardening in my jeans again. She tried to rasp for breath, and I thought I heard her gasp, “You PERVERT! You BASTARD!”

“Shall I go fetch the gag?” She winced as tears welled up in her eyes. She shook her head, indicating she didn’t want the scarf back in her mouth.

This time I used the scissors to remove her skirt. That left her in a tan bra and panties. I smiled appreciatively before I freed her 15 minutes later and took her back to her mattress.

The next time I brought her out I removed her bra, revealing nipples that had hardened a little. She whimpered, but she did not cry out much, especially when I took a bit more slack out of the rope. Now she was stretching upward on her feet a little more, making her rasp as she tried to take breath after breath.

15 minutes later I returned her to her mattress. Again she asked why I was doing this. I told her I was training her to accept the rope and to become a noose-whore. She fought back a sob as she sniffled in reply.

The next time I took her out and noosed her up, she lost her panties courtesy of my scissors. She had a little bit of a landing strip that looked quite sexy. She whimpered as she clenched shamefully.

I gave her breasts a gentle caress. Her nipples hardened right up. Then I backed away, admiring her beauty as she wriggled while standing there on the balls of her feet.

I gave her the usual 15 minute session feeling the rope around her neck before I took her down and hauled her back to the mattress. She sniffled again as she looked at me. “You’re really going to hang me, aren’t you.”

“Yes I am.” And with that I left her again.

When I returned 45 minutes later I saw her lying on the mattress looking dispirited. I retied the ropes to her arms as they were leaving a mark. I also removed the ropes from around her ankles, this time securing her upper legs. It would allow her a little more movement, although her expression told me she probably wasn’t going to try to go anywhere.

Even though she took little steps, I still had to help her walk to the gallows. I noosed her up and snugged the rope tight. That’s when she looked down and saw my erection had returned in my jeans, this time with a little stain from my precum.

I brushed my hand over her breasts, helping her nipples harden right up. Then I put my hand down in her crotch. I felt a dampness as she clenched instinctively around my hand.

“Someone is certainly getting excited at the prospect of dancing for me while naked and bound. Would you like a little taste of what it’s going to feel like to hang?”

​

“No! Please don’t hang me!” But she still clenched around my hand in her crotch as though she couldn’t help herself.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I chuckled. And with that I pulled on the rope.

Her feet fluttered as panic filled her features. She rasped as she tried to kick and struggle. Her face reflected the horror of feeling her weight in the noose.

After ten seconds I let her back down. She rasped for breath as I fingered her. She shook her head, her face red with shame as her cunt clenched around my wiggling digits. But I quickly removed them before she could cum.

I left her standing there on the balls of her feet for the remaining 15 minutes as my cock bulged in my jeans. She looked at my crotch several times. It made me wonder what she was thinking before I removed the noose and took her back to her room and left her there.

 

[riwa]

45 minutes later I returned to take her back to the gallows. Once more she panted for breath, her eyes wide with fright. This time I didn’t have to brush my hand over her breasts. Her nipples had already hardened right up with anticipation.

I reached down and fingered her. She moaned as she clenched around my wriggling digits. But I grabbed the rope and pulled her up off her feet before she could cum.

She rasped as she kicked and twisted a little. Amazingly she humped in my direction. I gave her a 15 second ride before taking her down, again leaving her partially strangled on the balls of her feet.

Tears filled her eyes as she whimpered again. I fingered her once more, causing her to writhe and clench. Then I stepped back to admire her, my cock hard and throbbing in my jeans. If anything, the stain had grown in size.

When her fifteen minutes were up I took her back to the mattress on the floor. I was turning to go when she called out, “Wait!” Then she nodded at my bulge before quietly murmuring, “Can I suck your cock?”

“Why? You don’t have to.”

She lowered hear head shamefully. Then she whispered, “I want to.”

Was this her way of trying to get out of her hanging? It made me wonder, although she never said she would suck me in exchange for her freedom. She just got onto her knees on the mattress as I walked up to her.

I unzipped my fly and pulled my cock out. That’s when she moved forward and took me all the way into her mouth. Then she started bobbing her head as she suctioned my dick.

She surprised me with how into it she was. I gasped and moaned over how good it felt. That only seemed to inspire her to suck my cock even harder.

I badly needed a release, and I think she knew it. It wasn’t long before I felt my balls swell. So I murmured a warning… “Gawd, you’re going to make me cum.”

Instead of pulling back, she sucked harder. She moaned and groaned as though she was fully into it. “I’m cumming!” I cried out. But she just sucked harder until I shot a load into her mouth.

She swallowed most of it, although some dribbled out onto her lips. She finished cleaning me off before licking her lips. I thanked her, and to my surprise she nodded as she gave me the faintest hint of a smile. Maybe she hoped I wouldn’t hang her now that she’d given me a blowjob. Or maybe it was something else.

45 minutes later I came down for her again. She willingly got onto her knees before I helped her all the way up to her feet. Then I slowly walked her out to the gallows.

I noosed her up and then lifted her up onto her toes. Her nipples hardened immediately, and I saw her pussy glisten. But this time I had a surprise for her.

I had a vibrating wand in my pocket which I pulled out and activated. Then I held it against her swollen nub. She writhed and moaned as she humped against it.

I watched until it looked like she was getting close to cumming. Then I grabbed the rope and lifted her up into the air. Her eyes flew open and she gawked as her legs started to pedal a little.

She was up for ten… fifteen… twenty… twenty-five seconds. She was just starting to hump when I let her back down. That’s when she looked at me with an agonized expression.

“Please,” she rasped as I got her back down onto the balls of her feet.

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum.”

“Only if you’re hanging in midair.”

She gave me another pained look. Then she shamefully lowered her head as she nodded. I looked at her skeptically.

“Are you sure?” She just nodded her head again.

“It means you’ll be hanging. Do you still want to cum?” She nodded once more. That’s when I felt a surge of erotic excitement ripple through me as my cock got hard again.

I pulled on the rope, hefting her back into the air. Then I held the vibrating wand up against her swollen clit. She kicked a little as she tried to hump the wand in my hand. Then her eyes rolled as she squirted.

I let her back down so she could catch her breath. I left her on the balls of her feet for the remaining 15 minutes. Then I took her back to her mattress.

She motioned at the bulge in my pants and licked her lips. I told her, “Next time.” She nodded in understanding.

After 45 minutes I came down for her next shift. This time I removed the ropes from around her upper thighs. She thanked me in a quiet voice.

I led her back to the gallows, her nipples already hardening. When I got her all noosed up she was dripping between her legs from her arousal. I fingered her pussy until I really had her writhing. Then I took her up into the air.

She gawked and gurgled, really kicking her legs now that they were free. She went about a minute before I came up to her and fingered her. That’s when she gawked as she shuddered hard in orgasm, her fluids coating my hand.

I let her back down and she rasped for breath, getting a little more air now that the noose wasn’t so tight. I caressed her all over, fondling her boobs and fingering her cunt. She moaned and whimpered as she writhed in place.

“Please,” she finally rasped. “Let me see it.”

“Let you see what?”

“Your cock. Let me see your cock. Take your jeans off.”

My dick twitched uncomfortably in its confinement as I slowly pulled my jeans down before freeing my erection from my briefs. She looked at it and licked her lips. Then she rasped, “May I… suck it?”

“It’ll cost you,” I warned her. “You’ll have to hang longer if you do. Are you sure you want to?”

She looked at me and lowered her head. Even though her face was red from her restricted breathing I could tell she was blushing. Then she nodded her head.

I gave her slack so she could lower herself down onto her knees. Then she started sucking me again. It was strange, because if anything she seemed even more eager to get me off than the last time.

I let her get me good and hard before I pulled out of her mouth. I told her, “Noose-whores wear the cum of their executioner on their face.” Then I let fly.

She blushed deeply as I splattered her face with my cream. When I was done I made her lick my cock clean. Then I hauled her up into the air.

She rasped and gurgled as her legs started to fly. I asked, “Does my noose-whore want another orgasm?” She nodded her head as she somehow found a way to stop kicking.

I brought the wand against her nub and turned it on full. Her eyes rolled as she started to hump. Then she was cumming and squirting in orgasm.

I waited until she settled down and hung limp. Then I took her down. My cock had started to stiffen again.

I took her back to her mattress and left her there. Then I headed upstairs. That last I heard she was sobbing quietly to herself.

45 minutes later I came back down to hang her once more. That last session in the noose had lasted longer than fifteen minutes. But I gave her the same amount of rest time to catch her breath.

We had just reached the gallows when she deliberately knelt right in front of me. Since I’d remained naked she immediately took my cock into her mouth and started sucking. She moaned and quivered the moment I looped the noose around her throat.

I pulled her to her feet and took out all the tension. She shuffled around on the balls of her feet. Then I applied the wand to her swollen nub.

“Don’t you dare cum!” I warned her. “Noose-whores only cum when they’re hanging. If you want another orgasm you’re going to have to beg me to hang you.”

She gave me a pained expression as she whimpered. She writhed against the wand, humping as I held it against her. Then I pulled it back a little, causing her to try humping for it.

“Hang me,” she finally rasped quietly.

“What did you say?” Had I succeeded in breaking her? Had I really created a noose-whore?

“Hang me!” And with that I pulled her up into the air. I heard her rasp “Wnnnnnna cmmmmm!” So I held the wand up against her crotch.

She humped it until she went crazy writhing and fucking the damned thing. Her eyes rolled as she shuddered hard in orgasm, drenching the wand with her fluids. Then I let her back down.

She rasped and panted for breath as I left her balanced on the balls of her feet again. I began fingering her until she clenched around my wriggling digits. She saw how hard my cock had become as she groaned and squirmed.

She started thrusting against my hand as I fingered her. Then I pulled my hand away. I taunted her by asking, “Does my noose-whore want to cum again?”

She nodded, her eyes almost pleading to be granted another one. I slapped her face hard. Then I snarled, “Fucking noose-whore! Do it yourself!” Then I hauled her up into the air.

She glurked as she became airborne. Her legs started to kick until I noticed she was trying to rub her inner thighs together. Then she shuddered hard as she squirted again.

I saw the results of her climax as she gently swung back and forth. I moved closer, groping and fondling her boobs. That’s when she used her legs to try to climb me.

She gurgled as her cunt found my cock. She deliberately impaled herself on my throbbing shaft. Then she started riding me while rasping for breath as though trying to get me off.

She wheezed and shuddered, her pussy clenching wonderfully around my manhood. It felt so good that I couldn’t hold back. I let out a cry as I thrust up into her cunt, filling her with my cream in blessed release.

She shuddered again as though she was experiencing another climax. Then I pulled out and stepped back to enjoy watching her gently swing back and forth. I finally took her all the way down from the noose before carrying her back to her room and gently laying her down on the mattress.

I gave her over an hour before I went back down. She looked at me and immediately got on her knees as though preparing to give me a blowjob. I just pulled her to her feet. She was still wearing my cream on her face from before.

I took her out to the noose and made her face it. “You’re a true noose-whore,” I told her. “Nothing more can I teach you. It’s time for you to hang.”

She went pale as she looked at me. I saw her start to tremble, and I wondered if I was going to have a problem with her. Instead she slowly lowered herself onto her knees.

She whimpered as she took my cock between her lips and started sucking. I could hear her moan and whimper with fright. But she did it as though she wanted to do a good job, especially if it meant it was going to be her last time sucking me.

I felt the excitement build, so I stopped her. I told her, “You have two choices. You can either take my last load in your mouth. Or I can butt-fuck you and fill your ass with my seed as you die. I’ll leave the choice up to you.”

She stopped sucking as she gasped in alarm. Then she slowly rose to her feet. She was trembling when I asked her, “So your choice is to feel my cum up your ass as you die?”

She bowed her head and nodded as tears welled up in her eyes. I groped and fondled her as I kissed her deeply. “You’re a great noose-whore,” I murmured into her ear. “Therefore I grant your last request to feel my cum up your ass as you die.”

She nodded again as I grabbed the noose and looped it around her neck. She inhaled sharply as I snugged it tight. “Remember,” I told her. “No cumming until you’re hanging. In fact…”

I took the wand and cruelly held it to her swollen nub. She was dripping like crazy, her nipples hard as pencil erasers. Then I told her she was going to have to tell me to hang her if she wanted to cum again.”

She opened her eyes in alarm, realizing I had just condemned her to request permission for me to hang her to death. She writhed and squirmed as though fighting the wand. But I held it right there on her swollen clit.

She rasped and grunted, writhing and wincing in agony. She bit her lower lip a couple of times as I cruelly vibed her. Then I finally heard her gasp, “Hang me.”

“What’s that, you say?”

“Hang me. Please.” She was really writhing now.

“I can’t understand you, noose-whore. Speak up!”

“Hang me, damn you!”

“Hang, you fucking whore!” And with that I hauled her up off her feet and tied off the rope.

Her eyes flew open at the agony she experienced. At the same time she began humping in my direction. I grabbed my cock and stroked it while pointing it at her.

She humped harder as though she was trying to fuck me in midair. She rasped and gurgled as she fought the noose. I saw her face turn an incredible shade of red.

She finally let out a loud “GAWK” as she thrust her hips forward. She sprayed her orgasm all over the floor as she jerked and humped. I stroked harder as I watched her lewd dance of death.

The pain in her chest got worst as she fought even harder. She went into her third minute, humping and fighting. It looked like she was going to cum again.

“Dance for me, whore! Dance like you mean it! Dance like the fucking slut you are!”

Her hips thrust forward again as she squirted once more. It seemed to take everything she had. Then she hung limp, her naked body gently swaying back and forth as cum dripped out of her twat.

“I’ll let you feel it before you die,” I told her as I walked behind her. Then I rammed my cock hard up her ass. She jerked and gurgled, so I know she must have felt it.

I reached around to grope and fondle her boobs as I butt-fucked her. Her legs fluttered as her arms tried to jerk behind her back. Then I reached down and fingered her dripping slit.

Her cunt and ass clenched wonderfully as I thrust hard up her butt. She became less animated until I could barely feel her clenching at all. Then she hung limp, her ass fully impaled on my dick.

I pulled down on her body to hasten her departure, strangling her even more. Her muscles twitched as she jerked a little until her bladder released. Then I was pumping my hot seed up her slutty ass.

I stayed inside her for as long as I could until I softened and plopped out. I came around front and looked at her. Her nipples were still hard, her pussy dripping. I thought I saw the faintest hint of a smile in her expression, but that was probably just my imagination. Incredibly, I had truly learned it was possible to train a woman to be a noose-whore…

2018 (written Apr 16 ’18 by riwa)

 

[Feyre Archeron]

so what is he going to do now? seems a sad waste since she was so into it. I know the theme here is death, and not love, but it seems that they would have had a wild time if he kept her alive. This was more "real" than that 50 shades of grey shit.

 

[thehangingtree]

so what is he going to do now? seems a sad waste since she was so into it. I know the theme here is death, and not love, but it seems that they would have had a wild time if he kept her alive. This was more "real" than that 50 shades of grey shit.

Really let her have a good time while she still can...