Posted by Clizia on October 11, 2003 at 06:14:45:
Clizia poured herself a Campari on the rocks, selected her favourite tape and popped it into the VCR. The scene she wanted to watch was somewhere in the middle of this compilation - so, parking herself on the sofa, she pressed FF on the remote. Half the Campari went down in two refreshing gulps. At least being home alone meant she could slob out and do things. Better make the most of it! She kicked off her slippers and tucked her stockinged feet under her bottom – which was bare under the baggy T-shirt she wore. The design on the shirt was of a human skull; below it, written in Gothic script, were the words, “Grateful Dead”. Two more gulps of Campari and Clizia crunched on ice. The ice broke easily, alcohol siphoning nicely into her bloodstream. She pressed STOP and the VCR clunked, then PLAY and the screen spritzed into the fuzzy colour and jerky movement of a homemade tape. An equally raw soundtrack accompanied the lewd display. Clizia squealed with delight. What a boob! She had wound the tape far too far…
*
Zed’s thighs were slapping furiously against the soft, fulsome cheeks of Clizia’s arse. He was clenching his teeth, snorting like a pig. Her long, reedy breaths sounded more like a death rattle. She was kneeling bolt upright; hands tied behind her back, chest thrust forward, breasts bobbling nicely. Her face was purple, her neck straining at the noose. The pair were approaching the climax of their erotic death shag. With a tear of admiration, Clizia pressed REW. What fun it had been getting to that point! She watched as their tender moments unravelled in backwards frenzy…
*
For months Zed, promising her a “fingers-free O”, had struggled to push her to the brink. Several long avenues of pleasure had been gone down in the process – the man certainly had stamina and imagination – still, she was ready to give up on him. Each time they’d shagged, shagged and shagged again, while the one true orgasm eluded her grasp – till, squirming in frustration, she would steal from his loins and finish herself off in the old, old way. With Zed it seemed the big O was always going to be “next time, next time”.
One evening, doubtless knowing his time left with Clizia was running out, Zed confronted her with menace in his eyes. He must have seen there were physical as well as mental blocks to her O, so he forced her to sit naked on a chair and tied her wrists to the back. Clizia always said she hated gags, so he stuffed one of her nylon stockings into her mouth and gagged her with the other. All she could do was nod, shake her head or make “MMMMMM” noises. Then he got the ice out.
Be honest, woman! Are you sure want to climax without frigging yourself?
She shrugged, nodded. He picked at the ice, then cupped shards of it to her breasts, pinching the nipples.
How badly?
He squeezed hard with the freezing, sharp ice.
MMMMMM! Clizia nodded furiously. Zed let go of the ice shards and they dropped onto her bare lap. Next he lifted one of her legs and placed a whole bar of ice under her bum.
Is your guilty little arsehole puckering to be buggered?
She thought hard about that one, didn’t move or make a noise for half a minute. With the ice melting in the privacy of her crack, her mind gradually focussed. As it happened, “guilty” was the key word in his question; yes, she’d done buggery, had warmed to its sordid pleasure. But the image soon passed - so she shook her head. She didn’t want Zed shoving his great cock up her arse. At least, not for the present.
He changed tack. He took her feet and tied them by the ankles to the back of the chair. This was a painful position, her knees almost touching the floor and her toes thrusting backwards. He stood in front of her, flicking a leather riding crop through the air. He moved to the rear of the chair and began bastinadoing the soles of her feet. Blow by blow he covered every inch of the soft, crinkly skin with short, sharp licks of the crop. She shuddered and gasped at each cut of the crop. Then he stopped and questioned her again.
What are you prepared to do for your pleasure? Would you go all the way and die for it?
Instinctively she shook her head. The pain in her soles was lapping over her. She struggled against the bonds. The position of her legs was almost unbearable.
Are you sure?
MMMMMMM!
Her cry was meaningless. Zed began beating her feet once more.
Would you die for pleasure?
This time she nodded furtively. Anything to avoid more pain. But Zed was evidently not satisfied with her change of heart. Again he beat the soles of her feet, striking each part carefully with the wide end of the crop. He beat the rounded balls of her feet and the soft, wrinkled insteps; he was gentler with the smooth outside edges of her feet, but merciless with the flattened under-heels. As he beat, her toes curled backwards and forwards rhythmically. Zed’s voice took on a shrill tone,
Now Daughter of Satan, answer me truly! Would death give you the pleasure you seek?
Clizia nodded decisively and dropped her chin to her breastbone – like the fall of an axe. Zed smiled,
I see!
He untied her ankles and brought her legs forward again. He propped her heels on the ground before her, to spare the tender soles. Meanwhile her legs were shaking uncontrollably. She was relieved, but afraid she would not be able to walk after the torture, let alone shag. At least the torture was over. Or was it?
Zed untied the gag and removed the rolled-up stocking from her mouth. He did not untie her hands. He brought a sponge, soaked in sweet red wine, and held it to her lips. Greedily she sucked it dry.
When you are ready, his voice continued in the same shrill, evil tone, We shall see what method of death shall be most suitable in your case. It seemed the man had struck a familiar vein. Bondage and torture scenes already played an important part in their sex routines, but this role assumed a deeper streak of masochism in Clizia’s psyche. If asked cold, she could never have admitted how far she was prepared to go. Zed sparing her the old kiss-and-tell rigmarole had prodded her like an inquisitor rooting out the devil.
He began reading from a scroll,
The prisoner having confessed and been condemned to die the death, there remains the question of how she shall be dispatched – by rope or blade. He looked up from the paper, Prisoner, have you anything to say before sentence is passed?
Clizia gulped. The torture had been real enough, so her execution would presumably be of the same order. “Rope” would mean hanging or strangling – “blade” would be the sword, axe or guillotine. Were these choices on offer, or would Zed decide her fate?
One of her favourite childhood fantasies was to mount the wooden scaffold, be stripped in front of the cheering, medieval crowd; to kneel and place her neck on the block; to hear the drum roll and sense the headsman raise his axe at her side; all this while shagged from behind - by the priest - to the point of orgasm, when the axe would fall. If only that were possible! In the lengthening pause - as Zed waited for her to speak – doubt restrained her from speaking. Could he contrive a realistic beheading scenario and shag her at the same time? With face crimsoning and heart thudding, she finally spoke up,
May it please your honour, Her voice trembled, Though I am resolved to my poor, miserable fate, I would spare the executioner the need to strike off my head. The sight of blood might be distressing to the good witnesses gathered here. She decided not to ask right out to be hanged, as that would have been presumptuous of a condemned prisoner. Hanging from the gallows would be just as sexy as beheading, and probably easier to set up. Zed took over,
Clizia Cockspur, having been found guilty of consorting with Satan, you will be taken from here to the place of execution, where you will be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May the Devil take your soul!
Zed put away the scroll, untied Clizia and stood her up. The soles of her feet were smarting from the crop, and she hobbled as he led her towards the bed. He made her kneel at the edge and lean across it, stretching her arms out to the side. Then she heard him moving the chair behind her. He seemed to have stood up on the chair and was fiddling with something in the ceiling. She took a peep and saw that he was threading a rope through the light boss. The rope had a noose at one end, and was long enough to be tied off to the chair at the other. When it was ready, Zed came back and stood between Clizia’s splayed legs. He moved her arms to her back and tied them helplessly at the wrists with a length of leather cord. Then he raised her onto her knees.
Zed placed the noose over Clizia’s head and pulled it tight at her neck. He stepped back and she felt him tug the far end of the rope. She felt the pressure with a gulp. Zed pushed her slightly forward before tying the rope off at the chair, which was directly below the light boss. If Clizia leaned back, the constriction lessened. If she leaned further forward, she took the full weight of the chair on her neck. It was not too tight. She found she could even pull the chair off one or two of its legs without choking. She felt and heard the chair scraping on the floorboards as she leaned and pulled on the rope. But the noose was tight enough to restrict her breathing – and restrict the blood supply to her brain.
Zed now knelt behind her and began beating her buttocks with his engorged cock. A great surge of adrenalin passed through Clizia’s naked body as she realised she was going to shagged in this erotic hanging position! Oh boy, this was finally it! Surely, if she didn’t reach orgasm after a session of this, there was no hope for her!
The outer lips of Clizia’s cunt were still cold and wet after the ice torture. The inside was wet too, but burning like a furnace. Zed stretched her lips apart with his fingers and slipped the swollen head of his cock between them. She tensed and clenched the head, holding it firmly in place. He made no effort to push it in further. Slowly Clizia wiggled herself down onto Zed’s long, fat cock. To move her bottom down, she had to lean further forward, increasing the pressure on her neck. Zed’s hand gripped her shoulders for support. Her ears were soon scorching, her breathing rate up – the air whistling through her throat.
When she had wiggled fully down onto his cock, Zed began to shag her. He shagged slowly at first, with long, deliberate strokes. Within minutes his thighs were slapping furiously against the soft, fulsome cheeks of Clizia’s arse. He was clenching his teeth, snorting like a pig. Her deep, reedy breaths sounded more like a death rattle. She was kneeling bolt upright, hands tied behind her back, chest thrusting forward, breasts bobbling nicely, face purple, neck straining at the noose. The pair were approaching the climax of their erotic execution shag…
*
There was no need for Clizia to press REW a second time, instead she hit the PAUSE button. She would remove her T-shirt, noose herself and begin masturbating.
The great thing about wearing a noose round the neck is how the body feels more naked even than nude. Naked, even in the course of shagging, you are only stripped down to skin and sensation. Naked and noosed you are stripped to the very thread of life. You shag - or wank – to the borderline of life and death. Clizia had her special DIY-hanging rope to hand… a present from Zed. The simplest contraption, it was easy to use and effective as hell.
Made from a few feet of soft hemp dusted with talc, the rope had nooses at either end. The nooses were simple slipknots, one to bind the ankles, the other to go over the head. Clizia fixed the first noose lying on her side. She placed her feet side-by-side and bent her legs back so her heels were almost touching her bottom. She doubled one of the nooses (as Zed had taught her) and fitted it over her ankles snugly. There was enough length of rope to draw the other noose up to her throat and slip it over her head. Now Clizia tucked her calves under her thighs and rolled onto her back. From here she rose to a kneeling position. With her torso upright, the rope (which was carefully measured) pulled taut between her cunt lips and grazed her clit. By lowering her bottom she could decrease the pressure, by leaning forward she could increase it. By swaying gently backwards and forwards and squeezing her thighs, the soft rope put pressure directly onto her clit. Now all she had to do was to grab the thick elastic band, put her hands behind her back and slip it over her wrists. She was ready!
Clizia got herself into this wonderful position just as the paused video tape automatically clunked back to PLAY.
*
… Clizia’s erotic rigor showed she hadn’t much further to go. Zed pushing down on her shoulder blades took her up to and over the edge. She gagged and began to shudder. If her fingers had been free she would have assaulted her clit. As it was, the little organ swelled and puckered quite unaided. Her eyes clouded over and her head swooned – orgasm rising inexorably from her loins. As she came, Zed’s thrusting cock seemed to rent her body apart, like a butcher’s knife ripping through a strung-up carcass. An involuntary wave – a whiplash – flexed up her spine, twanging her neck on the rope. With her whole body quaking in hands-free orgasm, she lost her consciousness…
*
The real-time Clizia, watched herself “die” on-screen with a mixture of pride and delight. Zed supported her shoulders as she went into involuntary “death-throes”. He slid his cock out of her cunt and undid the rope at the chair. Her bottom slumped onto her calves and her body swayed, though somehow she managed to stay upright. With the pressure on her neck gone she breathed heavily. Zed kneeled before her and unhurriedly tossed himself off. Hot licks of sperm shot onto her belly and breasts.
Clizia watching all this while furiously stretching the rope over her swollen clit, came with him. The wave of orgasm welled up from her loins, flicked up her spine and cracked as it reached her neck. Consciousness clouding, her body fell to the floor, her heart thudding powerfully, blood beating hard in her temples.
*
Wanking again, my dear?
Zed had come home to find Clizia asleep, sprawled naked on the floor, the rope still round her neck and ankles, hands behind her back, the video tape still playing. The tape had moved on to a scene they’d recorded some time later - on their wedding night, in fact. He sat down to enjoy watching his new bride as she mounted the scaffold-bed in the nude, placing her smooth, throbbing neck on the hard leather cushion that served as chopping block…
“Hands Free”
by Clizia Cockspur, Copyright 2003