“A Simple Strangulation”

Posted by tina on December 03, 2009 at 06:47:52:

Hi, everyone! Here is a story about Suzanne and the Suburban Strangler (not to be confurse with the South Side Strangler, lol). Enjoy!

“A Simple Strangulation”
By Tina

This is the story of how Suzanne became the (lucky?) seventh victim of the Suburban Strangler. Suzanne was a research librarian who had developed a fatal fascination with sex crimes. When her obsession focused on the local serial killer it became a fatal attraction with a twist.

Suzanne gasped when she opened the morning paper and saw the headline. “SUBURBAN STRANGLER STRIKES” read the alliterative caption. Suzanne’s hands trembled as she read the article. The details were similar to the other five murders. The woman was a prostitute found strangled in a room at the suburban Howard Johnson. Like the other victims she was bound and gagged, raped and strangled. The newspaper article gave precious little detail about the murder but Suzanne had a friend who handled paper work for the evidence room of the suburban police station that had jurisdiction in the cases. It had been an easy matter to get her friend to spill the juicy and quite lurid details of the murders. The women had all been found face down on the motel room bed with their wrists tied behind their backs. The strangler used one of his victim’s nylons to tightly tie the wrists at the small of the back. He used the panties as a gag to muffle any screams. Suzanne’s informant had said the women had been mildly tortured with indications of having been severely spanked, breasts bitten and they had all been sodomized. The killer left no prints behind so the police theorized he wore gloves because the motel rooms had not been wiped. After the sadistic strangler was finished with the initial torture, he had used a second nylon stocking to snuff his victims. Suzanne’s friend had put a hand to her throat, leaned close and whispered, “The ME says he strangles them real slow, to add to the suffering. He does their assholes after he strangles them!”

Suzanne thought about this as her excitement grew. She was already wet as she worked her skirt up around her waist. The kitchen light shimmered on her brown nylon stockings as she pushed a hand inside her white panties. She moaned slightly as a finger moved along her moist lips. The excited woman had reread the article as she fingered her sopping pussy. But she mentally changed the text to suite her growing excitement.

“Suzanne O’Brien, 42, a South Moore research librarian was found strangled to death this morning. Ms O’Brien was found in the room she had taken at the Howard Johnson South. Although her coworkers had no idea that Ms O’Brien ever worked in the sex trades, police stated the murder appears to be the work of the so-called Suburban Strangler. The strangler has murdered six prostitutes in the last eight months. Police say there are marked similarities between Ms O’Brien’s grisly strangulation and the other six murders.

Police spokeswoman, Andrea McCormick declined to be specific about the links between the seven strangulation murders. She went on to say, “Based on forensic evidence we are ninety-nine percent sure Suzanne O’Brien was strangled by the same serial sex strangler who has been at work in the suburbs. We also have a solid lead indicating Ms O’Brien was a prostitute.”

The demure librarian had soaked her panties with several intense orgasms by the time she had finished fantasizing about her murder making front-page news. She sat spent in the kitchen chair, her morning coffee long grown cold, as her breathing began to return to normal. She glanced at the clock and realized she would have to go straight to work without first changing her underwear.

Fortunately she was scheduled to do research by herself in an area off limits to the general public. No one would be the wiser about the orgasm soaked panties she wore.

• * * *

The evidence lady had shared one additional bit of information with Suzanne. The strangler left a type written note for his intended victim instructing them to call a particular telephone number. Unfortunately these numbers were always public phones and the police had been unable to get a lead on the caller. In addition Suzanne had learned the killer closed the note with the line, “Yours Truly, YKL”. The letter was a reply to an advertisement in a weekly free journal. These ads were a key link between all the murdered women. There was nothing about the ads that mentioned sex but the implication was easily discerned. In fact she had managed to get back copies of the paper and Suzanne had found the classified ad that the latest victim, Chandra Little, had placed just a week before she had been strangled.

“Chandra has what you want, baby. I like it kinky. Are you the man for me? Box 1315”

After Suzanne had found the advertisement from the latest victim matters had been decided. Suzanne was going to place her own add.

* * * *

Suzanne’s add in the journal read “Hey, darling, do you like your lady kinky? Yes, then I’m you’re woman. I like it a little rough so contact Suzanne at Box 1469.” The prim librarian had read the text with satisfaction. She was sure the strangler would be drawn to her advertisement. The journal building with the reply boxes was located within walking distance of Suzanne’s work place. She checked the box everyday at lunchtime and was surprised with how many responses she received. However, a ten days had gone by without the response she wanted.

But just as Suzanne was beginning to get discourage, she found an envelope in her box with a neatly typed note inside.

“Please call (901) 977-1393 at 7:00 PM on August 11, 2003. You won’t be sorry.
Yours truly, YKL”

Suzanne’s heart raced. “Tonight!” she realized, “tonight will be the night.” She had hurried back to work but had told her supervisor she needed the afternoon off. The librarian knew she would never be able to do her job properly with the excited anticipation of meeting the Suburban Strangler.

Suzanne had taken a luxurious bubble bath, painted her toenails and fingernails a bright red and picked out the trashiest outfit she had in her wardrobe. She had bought a brand new pair of black stockings on the way home from work. She had a lacey garter belt already that went very well with her black bra and panty set. She had put the lingerie on, skipping a slip as superfluous but before she slid the second stocking up her long leg she had wrapped it around her throat. She looked at her short brown hair, with the black band around her throat and could feel her pussy moisten again. Suzanne held the stocking snug around her neck as she fingered herself to another orgasm. It had been with great reluctance that she had donned the stocking and had slid the slinky slip dress over her head and shook it into place. Even though she wasn’t really a hooker, the garish makeup and dress that barely covered her body made her feel like one.

* * * *

It was precisely seven when Suzanne dialed the number contained in the note. The telephone rang three times and then she heard a click. There was street noise in the background.

“Hello, Suzanne” the deep male voice said, “How are you this evening?”

Her breath caught. Suzanne started to hang up the telephone but then put the receiver back to her mouth.

“I..I’m good, thanks,” she finally responded. Her mouth was quite dry and her heart seemed to be about to drum its way out of her chest.

“So you like your sex a little kinky, Suzanne?” the voice inquired.

“Yes, I do, darling,” Suzanne said with a little more self-assurance.

“Good, I think you and I can have some fun,” the voice stated quietly, “can you be at the Suburban Ho-Jo in an hour?” The way he had shortened Howard to “Ho” made it sound very much like whore.

Suzanne was glad she had gotten herself ready. The motel was about a half hour away and with check in time an hour would just be enough time for her to be waiting.

“Yes, that wont be a problem,” she answered.

“Good, that’s my girl. You take a room and I’ll reimburse you when we meet.”

“Ah, ok, but don’t you want to know my rates?” Suzanne asked trying to anticipate what a hooker would say in this situation.

They had discussed price and specifics for a few minutes. Suzanne was to get five hundred dollars for the night. The gentleman had said nothing about post mortem anal sex nor had he mentioned the fact he was a notorious serial strangler.

* * * *

Suzanne lit her last cigarette and tossed the crumpled pack into the waste can. She had just lit up when the telephone next to the digital clock radio jingled to life.

“Hello?” she said almost in a whisper.

“Hi, Suzanne, it’s me,” the now familiar voice said, “what room?”

For an instant Suzanne thought about backing out. She could hang up the telephone, check out of the motel and flee for home to sleep safely in her own bed.

“315,” she had said trying to keep her voice calm, “I’m in room 315.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes. Good bye for now,” he said.

“Good bye,” Suzanne had responded and then returned the receiver to its cradle.

She took a drag on her cigarette.

“Would the condemned like a last cigarette before she hangs?” Suzanne had asked out loud as she took another puff.

* * * *

Suzanne jumped when the first light rap came at the door. Her hand had gone to her throat and she had swallowed hard. This was her last chance. She hesitated and then she had heard another knock just a little more demanding in tenor than the first.

She crossed the room, pulled the door open and stepped aside so the man could enter. He was tall and appeared to be well built.

“Hello, Suzanne, I’m Tony.”

She smiled at him despite her nervousness. To her amazement he was quite good looking.

He took her hand in his and looked seductively into her blue eyes. She smiled brightly as she returned his stolid gaze. This is how it had been for those other women except they had no idea about the horror that awaited them. Knowing this handsome stranger was about to violate her and snuff her life with one of her nylons was the most erotic thing Suzanne had ever experienced.

“You’re very pretty,” he had said and she blushed.

“Thank you,” she had replied.

He had then reached inside his suite coat pocket and handed her a plain white envelope. She had opened it to find five, crisp one hundred-dollar bills. She had walked to the side of the bed, opened the drawer that contained her purse and tucked the money inside. Of course she knew it was five hundred that she would never spend. She had not heard him move up behind her but she felt his strength as he wrapped his arms around her and she was pulled against his body. Suzanne had done some research and had learned most sexual murderers, especially stranglers, were impotent. She was surprised to feel the man’s erection pushing against her fanny as his hands moved down to the hem of her slip dress.

“Lift your arms,” he commanded as he began to slide the skimpy dress up Suzanne’s trembling body.

He dropped her dress on the floor between the twin beds, sat down on one and began to unfasten the back garter strap on her left leg. He then turned her with his hands and unfastened the front garter.

“Put your leg up here on the bed.”

Another turning point had come. She could tell him it had all been a mistake, get her purse out of the drawer and make a run for it. It was unlikely Suzanne would leave the room alive no matter what she did at this point. He was probably unlikely to let her just leave.

She smiled down at him, again thinking how handsome he was, as she put her high-heeled foot up on the bed. He slipped the black pump off her foot as she wobbled unsteadily. Then he reached up and slid the already sagging stocking off her leg. He was wearing tight fitting driving gloves that provided the dexterity he needed to remove her nylon. She did not resist as he looped her silky stocking around her right wrist and tied it with a single granny knot. He then turned her again, pulling her arms behind her back as he did. Again she gave him no resistance as he began to bind her wrists with the black nylon stocking. She winced as he drew the nylon tighter, pinning her wrists together and she protested.

“That’s too tight,” she exclaimed in protest.

He pushed her down on the other bed and she bounced face down. Despite the padding the wind was forced out of her as she landed. He rolled her over quite roughly and slapped her face.

“Shut up,” he said, his face bent close to hers, so she could smell the sent of his aftershave, “be quiet if you know what’s good for you.”

She nodded as he rolled her back over. Again he pulled the ends of the stocking and she felt the loops of nylon draw even tighter than before. Her wrists were finally lashed together as he knotted the stocking securely in place.

He pushed her arms to the side and smacked her exposed panty-clad ass firmly with the palm of his hand. Suzanne made a yelp more of surprise than of pain. She also felt sudden anger mixed with fear well up inside her. She managed to roll over and sit up as she tugged furiously at the stocking binding her wrists behind her back.

“Okay, you son of a bitch,” Suzanne yelled, “untie me and get out of here.”

He looked down at her and laughed. The sudden backhand to her cheek caught her totally off guard. His right hand smacked with a loud crack into her cheekbone and Suzanne went down on her side with a whimper. Flashes of light danced in front of her face, as she remained stunned from the blow.

“Please,” Suzanne managed to croak out the word, “please…don’t…strangle me.” It took all her strength to get out this single pitiful plea.

“Why would you think I was going to strangle you?” the man asked with a rueful smile on his lips. Finally she responded, “You’re the Suburban Strangler.” He smiled but said nothing. “I’m not really a call girl…I’m a research librarian so you don’t need to strangle me. I’m not like the others.”

“Shhhhhh, it will all be over in a few minutes,” he responded as he looked at Suzanne with a disdainful smirk. “Besides, Suzanne, the five hundred you put in your purse makes you just another whore. So you see my darling, you are like the others.”

“Please let me go,” Suzanne begged, “I’ll scream…I’ll scream for help.”

He reached over and turned the clock radio on and cranked the volume knob way around. A country western station began to blare as Suzanne began to scream. Her cries for help were drown out by the loud music. As she lay on the bed she felt her panties being pulled down her legs. She couldn’t prevent the panty gag from being stuffed between her lips.

“Hmmmppffff,” the now terrified woman grunted through her panties. She wriggled frantically on the bed as she heard the music die.

“There, now, we won’t need that any more,” the Suburban Strangler said as he pulled Suzanne to her feet and then turned her over his lap.

He pushed the helpless lady’s bound wrists aside and began to smack her bare ass with the palm of his right hand. At one point he stopped to listen to her sob through her gag and then she was vaguely aware of him opening the desk drawer behind her.

“WACK!” Suzanne howled with pain as the man slammed a book down on her ass cheeks.

“Nothing like a Gideon’s bible to teach a whore a lesson,” her tormentor said as he smacked her repeatedly on her now burning buttocks. Suzanne moaned through her gagged mouth as the sadistic strangler beat her soft bottom. Suzanne was silently cursing her friend who had glossed over the details of the physical beating for the titillating account of the sexual assault and subsequent strangulation.

Her butt soon was a massive throbbing pain as the brutal assault continued. Suzanne realized that her friend had mentioned the strangulation had been slow. From her research Suzanne knew that manual strangulation could take several minutes
But that ligature strangulation resulted in quick loss of consciousness. Usually the victim passed out in a matter of seconds with death coming within a couple of minutes. But her friend has said the Suburban Strangler garroted his victims extremely slowly. He apparently liked to prolong their agony.

Suzanne was thinking about her prospects when the man stopped beating her. She felt herself being rolled over onto her back. She looked up at the man she knew to be the Suburban Strangler with a fear she had never known before. This is what she had sought. She wanted to experience first hand what the six prostitutes had experienced. Only her terror was far greater than theirs because she knew exactly what would happen to her, step by painful step. She sobbed, tried to say something but the panty gag stifled her. She watched in horror as the strangler’s hands moved to her right thigh, unfastened the front garter strap and then reached under her leg to fumble with the back fastener.

The strangler paused for a second as he smiled down at his helpless victim. “Not long now, Suzanne” he repeated a he lifted her leg a little so he could get her other stocking loose. He pulled the stocking slowly down her thigh, over her shapely calf and off her dainty toes. As Suzanne watched he stretched the stocking out. He had run the sheer nylon through his gloved palms, as he looked at her, helpless on the bed. Suzanne’s eyes remained fixed on her sheer black nylon stocking stretched out between his palms. The black leather driving gloves had been almost the exact color of Suzanne’s stocking. She wanted to scream; she tried to scream but her balled up panties again absorbed the sound.

The Suburban Strangler forced Suzanne back down on the bead. He worked the stocking behind her head, brought the ends around and tied a single knot in the nylon that he drew down under her chin. He then worked the ends around a second time and repeated the knotting process.

“Please, don’t…” Suzanne pleaded hoarsely as she felt the stocking being wrapped around her throat. Fear gripped her as she heard the sound of her garbled plea. The words “strangle me” were a mere thought as she watched the man wrap the ends of the black stocking around his palms. Suzanne felt the black nylon begin to tighten as he began to pull the ends of the nylon away from her neck. The wide black loops of nylon slowly constricted until Suzanne gave a little cough. She was able to draw in a raspy breath but only with great effort.

“A few minutes?” Suzanne questioned in her panic stricken brain. It had only been a few seconds and already Suzanne’s lungs were burning a little with the struggle to get enough oxygen past the black nylon ligature. With great effort she could force her throat open to draw in a wisp of air through her flared nostrils. But she would cough out half of what she had just inhaled before the black bands closed her airway again.

The man held the stocking firmly keeping just enough tension on the loops to force Suzann to fight for air. The bands of black nylon had not totally closed the desperate woman’s air pipe but Suzanne’s face had brightened to a shining red.

“Plee…accckllll….stop….unah,” Suzanne gasped and wheezed as she tried to beg. The woman looked around wildly trying to figure out someway to escape the clutches of the serial strangler.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Suzanne thought as she continued to gag, “A nice simple strangulation that’s all I wanted.”

The strangler held the stocking just tight enough so Suzanne could gasp in a little air. Her lungs quickly began to burn with the struggle to get enough oxygen. Her head felt like a balloon being slowly over filled. After a few minutes of struggling against the tortuous strangulation, Suzanne began to hear a ringing in her ears. With tear blurred vision she looked up at the strangler.

Then suddenly she was aware of an odd tingling sensation between her legs. Suzanne had vaguely felt the strangler’s cock sliding in and out of her pussy. The muscles of her cunt instinctively clutched his throbbing member despite her dire predicament as he held the stocking tight. As she struggled against the strangulation and tried desperately to draw air into her aching lungs, Suzanne felt an orgasm ripple up through the pain.

The room began to glow with a red haze, as the ringing grew louder. She tasted something sweet in her mouth and realized it was her blood. In her final frenzy her teeth had clamped down on her bloated tongue as it protruded over her gaping red painted lips. The swollen appendage had forced the saliva soaked panties out of Suzanne’s gaping lips but she could no longer speak with her crushed larynx. As the ringing turned into a loud roar the red haze darkened into a sheet of black. The room disappeared from Suzanne’s sight as the strangler finished his grisly work.

The handsome strangler looked at the face of his victim. Suzanne’s bulging eyes stared sightlessly up at him. He pulled his still turgid cock from her dead pussy. He rolled Suzanne’s lovely corpse onto its back. A smear of red stained the bed spread as Suzanne’s mouth slid across the blue cover.

“Ah, a nice virgin ass,” the killer said with a smile as he worked his cock into Suzanne’s inviting asshole. “Hmmm, a nice tight fit for daddy’s dick.”

* * * *

As a bright summer sun arose the morning paper thumped against Suzanne’s front door but she wasn’t there to read it.

“SEVENTH VICTIM FOUND STRANGLED” the front-page headline blared.

“Suzanne O’Brien, 42, a South Moore research librarian was found strangled to death yesterday afternoon. Ms O’Brien was found in the room she had taken the previous evening at the Howard Johnson South. Friends and coworkers expressed shock to find out the quiet woman was moonlighting as a prostitute. Although police have no indication that Ms O’Brien worked regularly in the sex trades, they say the murder appears to be the work of the so-called Suburban Strangler. The strangler has murdered six prostitutes in the last eight months. Police say there are marked similarities between Ms O’Brien’s grisly strangulation and the previous murders.

Police spokeswoman, Andrea McCormick declined to be specific about the links between the seven strangulation murders. She went on to say, “Based on forensic evidence we are ninety-nine percent sure Suzanne O’Brien was strangled by the same serial sex strangler who has been at work in the suburbs.”