Window Dressing

I was shopping for Christmas presents when my eyes where caught by this. They really put that out on the shopwindow in the city-center.
So i did a little research and got out, the nice folks from Agent Provocateur intergated that in their current campaign. It was a perfect Christmas present for a weirdo like me.
This is a cutout from the online highresolution picture:

Change

I became fascinated for the noose when I secretly fell in love for my high school teacher. She was formal and strict, but I had her sympathy.
That's why I fell in love for her.
First I didn't want to be hanged by her it all. I wanted sex from her, I wanted a romantic relationship with her.
But I had no right to desire that.
First of all, she was kind of ugly. There were quite some sexy lady teachers in our class, but it was her cold face and her skinny silhouette covered in formal clothes, that hooked up all my attention.
I was not normal, desiring her. It was just not appropriate. It made me a pervert.
And then I was only a boy, not able to act like a man, to conquer her like a man. No, I was even less, my personality was flawed, everyone tried to keep away from me.
How could I ever have dared to harass her with my distorted feelings?
She liked me for my performance in class, not for my personality. Revealing my desire to her could only repel her.
She would never ever answer my feelings!
I even would'nt be enough to serve her as submissive sex-slave! Kneeling in front of her, licking her shoes, being used by her at will.
The only way for her to engage with me could only be applying swift punishment. To be, how I was made me unresponsive to any corrective measure. So the only applicable mean could be ending my perverted existence. And stringing me up might have just been the right thing. For its ritualistic staging, which couldn't be mistaken for plain murder.
By hanging me she would conclude my destiny, liberating me from a nonviable life.

Thats about my motivational chain, as stringent as i am able to describe it.

The path of honesty is hereby reopened!

Poll results!

So a majority of you seems to more or less like the blog.
Three voted for "Gain for the net" that really surprised me.
I am only a little bit disappointed no one chose "You're sick"...:-)

Anyway: Thanks or you votes!

Ready to dance...

Got him right where she wants to have him...

I did the manip myself.
So do you like it?

Winter....

Warm season defintely ended with the first fall of snow.
No more mary janes and ballerina flats to turn my head. Shiny polished boots are okay though.
I enjoyed a last rise in temperature two weeks ago, when i had to queue at the cafeteria behind a girl wearing soft white ballet flats, with angular caps and a outward turned sewing line. Additionally they had some athletic ornaments. (Anyone knows a online shoe glossary btw?)
I fantasized about going down on my knees and licking those well done crossover of style shoes, instead of talking to the girl who herself didnt look very special.

Neither did i reply to the compliment received from an elderly lady, inside an elevator(!).
Its my fault as always. It's my shyness. 

I will meet the noose today and i am rather anxious about it.
Only that this is what i need that.  

Just some feelings...

I obey any woman wearing such shoes confidently.

I shall meet the noose on saturday....

Poll results

So we have a winner!
Most people prefer the public execution, which is not that surprising, since that method grants maximum humilation. I myself like that option the most, especially in front of female only audience.
The SM-Studio, as related to a somewhat more real-life (who really wants to dance for real ;-) activity didnt do that well, but still better than the outdoor-scenario.
Honestly I start to like that one more and more, and got some wicked story on it in my mental pipeline.

Public transport

I saw an older lady today. She might have been 55, rather slim, sinewy, oh how i do love that. She had bacombed her hair in a way, it made a high tide all along her head. She wore a short formal jacket, highlighting the sharp curves of her upper body. Further down a knee long skirt, semi-opaque tights, black classic pumps with a buckle right over her toes. I am very close to her. She has that strict regard, older women often have.
That triggers a fantasy:

I have put a personal ad online, and now older woman regularily call me home, to get some pleasure from my tongue. Would this one accept my services too?
Would she lead me into her dining room, let me sit down on the couch to get some coffee and then seat herself opposite to me? Then engage in some meaningless conversation, rather for appearance's sake than out of real interest?
Soon afterwards a twiching of her knee, tightening the skirt, tells me she wants to get it now, followed by her telling me to.
So i drop to my knees, slip my head between her legs, start licking eagerly from the source of her female potency.
When she has finished, she quickly prtends some appointments to get me out of her appartment.
After having peered into the hallway, she shoves me through the door, sliding some bills into my backpocket, not more than the 20 something bucks, that i am worthy. Slapping the one cheek with the money on it good bye, to let me know i have been a good boy.

I dream abot making a living out of that... How romantic!

Great Vidcap

from the Breathlesscommunity:

Find more videos like this on the Breathless Community

She's just so great! Tender and cruel.
Watching him as he dies....

Halt!

It has been occupying me lately. And there would be a lot to discuss on the motivational complex of my death fetish. But as this would mean to touch my civil life and relationship to go any further, i wont talk about it here anymore.
Thus the path of honesty ends. In the briars...

Asphyx news

Article from a german newspaper

Er sah aus wie ein „solider Büromensch“, grüßte immer ganz freundlich. Was niemand ahnte: Der alleinlebende, geschiedene P. stand auf schmerzvollen Sado-Maso-(SM)-Sex, bestellte sich eine blutjunge Domina (19) in seine Röttgener Wohnung.
Mit ihr gab er sich gefährliche SM-Praktiken hin, die er nicht überlebte! Als ihr Kunde tot war, ging die Domina einfach weg…
Das bizarre Drama hinter biederer Holzfassade – es spielte sich wohl bereits am letzten Samstag ab. Vier Tage lag Roger P.s Leiche in seiner Wohnung, bis man sie fand.
„Er kam bei Sexualpraktiken ums Leben, die eine 19-jährige Frau mit seinem Einverständnis an ihm vornahm“, erklärt Polizeisprecher Christian Gräßler. Praktiken wie SM. Sie beinhalten ein erhebliches Gefahrenpotenzial. Roger P. war das sicher bekannt.
„Das war ein ganz Netter“, sagt eine Nachbarin über den grau-mellierten P. Dass er tot ist, kann sie kaum fassen. Erst am Montag hatte ihr der Postbote erzählt, er hätte bei dem 49-Jährigen Sturm geklingelt – es hätte aber keiner geöffnet.
Roger P. war da längst tot. Krass: Die Domina wusste, dass ihr Kunde nicht mehr lebte. Doch statt Polizei und Rettungskräfte zu alarmieren, verließ sie seine Wohnung. Doch das Erlebte ließ ihr keine Ruhe. Gräßler: „Sie vertraute sich einer Bekannten an, die sich daraufhin am Mittwoch an die Polizei wandte.“
Kurz darauf brachen Beamte die Wohnungstür von Roger P. auf – und fanden seine Leiche, die bereits zu verwesen begann. Sie wurde sofort in die Rechtsmedizin überführt, wo die Untersuchungen zur Todesursache andauern.
„Nach den ersten Ermittlungen gehen wir von einer Körperverletzung mit Todesfolge aus“, so Staatsanwältin Monika Ziegenberg. Die Domina blieb nach ihrer Vernehmung auf freiem Fuß.
Hat Roger P. sich selbst stranguliert, um den sexuellen Reiz zu erhöhen? Erst im letzten Jahr bezahlte ein Bonner Oberarzt ein bizarres Sexspiel mit dem Tod.
Der Notarzt fand ihn in der Wohnung einer Domina – er kniete auf dem Boden, um seinen Hals eine Kette, die bis zur Decke reichte. Die Domina hatte ihren „Sklaven“ kurz alleine gelassen, um einkaufen zu gehen. Als sie zurückkam, hing er tot in der Kette.

Return of the fetish

I didnt have much privacy the last weeks and months. I couldnt resist to do some collecting, but i couldnt carry out IT... And it kept working inside me. I began to feel more an more uneasy over the time. Got nearly into some kind of depressed mood.
Since i have been taking the chance to do it again, everything is back to normal. I am active again, and like to go out.
I dont really understand why the fetish has such a massive effect on my daily life. Probably thats because its a way to canalize the flow from my dark side, which otherwise penetrates my feelings?
Sounds weird?
It surely is....

One more thing.
Have been watching Donnie Darko recently. Mary McDonnell plays the mother. Never watched "Babylon 5" and didnt get she was stand with a fist.
She would do great as executrix:

• She is emotive,
• She dresses formally,
• She is visibly a mature woman, but nevertheless hot
  

I shall have a slideshow of her photos on the screen, when meeting the noose.
That is to be tomorrow.
For now i leave pretending to be an ordinary guy towards my friends.

Keen. Amsterdams

I saw them when travelling.
Two backpacking girls waiting for the bus wore them. One had red ones, the other one a pair of cyans. I prefered the cyan one, probably because her lower legs were rather muscular and she wore a white knee-long skirt. I used all the time i got to stare at the lower parts of this girl and memorize her appearence. And thats what i retain of her by now.
I did a little research afterwards. Most Amsterdam wearers bought them for travelling, as they are said to be "cute and comfy".














Neither sight nor memory trigger any desire to be strung up by the girl wearing the cyan ones, or at least the urge to get the admission to lick her wonderfull keens.
But i promise to think of them during my next rendezvous with the noose...

I dreamt a dream, what can it mean,...

I dreamt it long ago, when i was sixteen and secretly in love with a girl who i only knew by sight. I adored her, but never dared to get close to her.
So the dream was setted in the shoolbuilding, and i was stalking her through empty hallways in order to get a glance of her appearence.
Then somehow i had her shoes, black chinese style mary janes, in my hands and i felt profound happieness.
Then i woke up into my real life, excempt of my princess as well as her shoes. And i was quite despaired.

My shoe-fetish seems to be a very profound one. But i dont know much of its origin. I only wonder by now, why in this dream i seemed to be more lucky about getting my hands on her shoes, than on her body. Probably since i am not worthy to get near the woman i adore, i focus on objects belongig to her.
Of course it is much deeper than that as i often feel attracted by women, primarily by the shoes they wear, their bodies and faces seem to be secondary.

Why I am an admirer of wardrobe remixing:

As said before, I use to lurk around fotosites. And through my collecting of imagery I encountered the importance of tags. And there is one tag that especially caught my attention: “wardrobe remix”.
Out there is a bunch of creative girls and women who like to experiment with the clothes they have, take a photo of themselves and put it online then.
The point about that activity is that women depicting themselves in that manner, try to be stylish and neat and moreover, as if according to the feminist rule, they portrait themselves for each other, for a female audience and not primordially for sex oriented male's interest. So all the cheap blond bikini-flics are missing in this category, being only one advantege more.
Especially for one degraded guy like I am, this is what it has to be: a type of woman you desire. But which you will never get.
The untouchable woman!

About being fucked up...

I said I put up this blog because there is not that much stuff on the asphyx fetish out there where women are in control.
But that is only half the truth.

The other reason for me to starting this blog was to portrait the full spectrum of my special kind of deathfetish. This also means getting the urge inside me to speak out loud its will, letting aside any reasoning. In other words bringing the IT up on the surface.
That's what I've been keeping up until recently.
And all this must have sounded rather fucked up.
But that is – I think in the end – just what it is, fucked up, a destructive turn. And I wanted to sketch that out. In my opinion this is not just another kink, only as there are ten thousands of people with similar fetishes, because there is something like a community, you start to see it as something rather regular on the agenda. Eventually is about the idea of oneself or somebody else to die or at least to suffer for pleasure. It Is something against any basic concept of morality, it is contrary to humanity!
Moreover I think you cannot reduce the fetish to plain fantasy. As if it were something mere hypothetical. Most asphyx people have very clear scenarios in their minds and no one plainly choose this. Although the vast majority of people might be sane enough to never cross the border and actually harm someone, or do something against his or her will, there is nevertheless reality, there is the capability to painfully die when strung up, there is a reality, that people are put to death by dropping them into a noose just today. The death fetish isn't something to come out of nowhere, it has quite a real template, that is the mortality of man, and having something alike inserted in ones sexual feelings, one has also to be aware about were it is deriving from.
But affirming this to be no more than fantasy also means denying what it is about.

Yes, the deathfetish is nothing clean, it is nothing plain and easy-going as everything seems to be out there on the net. The solution is neither staying quiet about it (what wouldn't work anyway) nor taking it as something normal. That's the ambiguity I am struggling with.

Continuous working on the subject pays out...

Now i have a formula for the relation:
A hangwoman is the anti-mother. She is extincting life just as much as a mother gives birth to it.
The hangee is not a subject in her eye, he is an object, and she is handeling it.

Staying honest...

Actually I don't really want to talk about it anymore. But as i promised honesty here we go:
Recently i had the chance to peek into my mothers shoe rack and i had to realise, she owns exactly those kind of shoes i am aroused by. I am sure this is not because i already saw them on her beforehand, its more that during my collecting i discover the footwear of my interest. And i am surprised to find those now are owned by my mother.
Disturbing discovery, not?

I already testified about the oedipal origin of my hanging fetish. But nevertheless it is impossible for me to imagine any real engagement with my mother, with the very person she is. She might be the origin, but who i am attracted to are mature women in general, those who could be my mother. I am looking for women, who are in charge, who have power over me.
That's the idea!

Cool strangling Video on YouTube

Persistent incertitude....

Tonight i successfully strangled myself autoerotically.

I havent been really active recently. As i had little alternatives. But I didnt miss it too much, anyway. I let dally away several occasions. And it was ok, it wasnt like something was lacking.

Nevertheless i kept up good old habits. But the thing is, collecting just doesnt get me into the mood anymore. And i just realise now how essential that is, to act it out, i really need the pictures!

But all the lurking aroung photosites (flickr, deviantart, modelmayhem) or online fashion catalogues (next, nordstriom, albamoda) nearly doesnt get me anywhere, this inner certainty about the necessity to be done by a mature female, i touched it again today, but it is fading, it looses its structure and all the pictures melt down to be no more than those of erveryday women, not executrices, and thats right what they are respectively are not.
The key of understanding the importance of collecting, is that the women all are untouchable. This is weaker on the screen than the direct perception of respective women eg. in the street, but the virtuality of the pics reinstates some of the untouchability, and if they have this i-am-looking-down-on-you-look or - even better - wear the right shoes, it's like it should be.
As said this is fading, and with it of course my actually living it out on myself.

I still recur to it in my phantasies, but this too is loosing power. I am gradually putting off my strange masturbational sex live, replacing it with plain regular sex live. Thus getting normal somehow, really being surprise by such a turn. Even my ballerina-fetish detaches from the death-fetish.
I am not sure about all that. But i like it. It feels alright somehow.
But I am still not sure...

Path of honesty

Another topic i have been suppressing... lately.
The role of the drug.
All the time it has been something for me to directly access my dark desires. Which are with me all the time. But which are covered in some way, i do not really understand.
But recently, the drug doesnt open anything anymore. The soft haze doesnt convey any special atmosphere anymore.
And now i think, probably it's that the drug can no longer keep open the gate which probably would have been closed already.
So how proceeding.
Cleaning up.
And walking along.
Will it be this way...?

Recent developments, continued...

I have been mobbed recently by female collegues.
"Who wonders?" one might think by onesself reading this and heaving in mind past stuff. And that might be actually right. It's probably that I am especially sensible for such gradients of power. Probably manoeuver into it just by myself.
But it's not what i want to talk about (nonetheless probably should do later on)...

The experience of being degraded by women, getting to feel their collective feminine power, just re-triggered my recently lost sexual desire for terminal submisson. To be erotically asphyxiated, practically meaning: auto-erotically asphyxiated, to write it down!

Moreover what I have already confessed so far, keeps on working inside me, changing me somehow. I only dont know yet into which direction.
Nevertheless what i wrote down in that regard isn't something i wasn't aware of already. I knew quite well about it, probably all my concious life long. But i kept it to myself.
But that writing it out into the anonymous internet actually mattered to me is quite a surprise.

By the way...
It's anniversery time just once more.
Hope you enjoyed it so far. To those who commented, wrote emails or i had the fun to chat with: Thank You for your fair words.

Recent developments

Since I started to tell the full truth, the urge to get asphyxiated has totally flattened. I still did it the last weekend, but it was like I had to convince myself first to actually do it.
So is this the consequence of confessing?
Only that this has not been my original intention.
And for the time I doubt this will last longer than some days...
Normally when I put up the right setting, things are coming by themselves, without me really wanting it, but rather plainly following. But the normally felt evidence of the necessity to be punished has faded. Even the collecting doesn't stimulate anymore. Less than that, it has become rather boring.
Probably it's been only because I was very active recently, took my chance, as long as it is offered to me. And now it just has become too much?
Time will tell...

Anyhow will I continue to follow the path of honesty...

Try honesty!

To resume it: I feel inferior and I am delivered by my sexuality. That's why I have to strangle to death in the noose. But this still isn't the whole truth! I am still trying to go on in hiding what has to be revealed. It's that I still fear your contempt. But I won't neglect your right to know who you are dealing with any further:
So how did I get it? When has my sentence been passed?
I do quite well know how. And I therefore should better express it.

Of course all of this is to find in the development of my personality. And it starts at the very beginning of every born individual. In my case, there was the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck.
And all my later life was not essentially different from its start. The umbilical cord remains wrapped around my neck tight, only that it's of emotional fabric now. I am attached by my mother's appendix to the world of her thinking, I have been nurtured with it and I still feed from it, I am a bubble floating inside her mind.

My mother is a woman, who always put her personal wishes and feelings after the necessities of real life. A life which is hard and without relief. And leisure always being the first step to demise.
In that sense she raised me. And she had quite an effort with me!
As i was a bad boy! I did things wrong all the time, I broke things along with her feelings. That's why she had to punish me as a matter of routine.

But there was more than just that!
I was a very egoistic child! And always tried to impose my will on her, even by using arguments to trick her into something different than her original intention. But she knew quite well there was no need for her to resort to such measures like arguing. There was a quite more effective way to prove me wrong:
She unveiled my dependence on her. She let me feel just how much I was at the mercy of her will, let me, exempt from her provision, struggle a bit, let me fail, all along with my point of view. And she probably wouldn't deny having received some joy from the scene: me creeping back to her, apologizing and submitting myself to her superior will, pleading “Please mother, excuse me for having been bad. I will never do it again!”, as soon as she wished to hear such a statement from my mouth.
Of course I had to repeat that very often!

Moreover, I permanently failed to acknowledge how much I occupied her. My weak efforts to disburden her only kept her even more busy, because I just never did it right. How much easier would it have been for her to just abandon me, to leave me behind, to my fate, or even fulfilling it by herself, terminating my pitying existence. But out of her inexhaustible generosity she kept on nourishing me. Despite the fact that I didn't deserve anything from her.
But it doesn't even end at that point!

Not only that I have been a miserable child and still am. I also threatened to become just like my father, and be rude and abusive towards woman. My father had detached mentally from his family and all related duties early. And she would never allow me to become like he is.
So she eagerly worked on suppressing any expression of manhood, taught me to see it as something disgraceful, something I had to avoid actively by myself and submit to females' categories.
Naturally I only failed once more, since I am male in the end.

And I could quite well feel my mothers silent disappointment with me, over my failed existence. That she would have been right in terminating my pitiful life for good. That this was in her responsibility, as the one who gave birth to me, putting me to death again as well. Even I accepted my fate, waited for the day, when she might finally come for me, placing me under a solid beam and stringing me up from it. Relieving me from my life in her unmeasurable generosity.
As much as she wanted it to be this way, and furthermore, as my mother, had any natural right to do so, this is still a patriarchal world we live in, and male controlled courts deny maternal law... She couldn't but let go on my miserable existence.

And here I am and moan: “Oh mother! Why didn't you string me up when there still was a time and place to carry it out? Why did you hesitate? Don't you really love me, still not having hanged me? Why did you let me wander this unwelcoming earth instead of relieving me from the pain of living?”

A Confession

I wrote on earlier occasions about how I am doing it. But i have been omitting to express why i am doing it.
That is why before being forced to go off from the grip of the tight noose i am going to write down the following confession:

It is that I am an inferior being and my life is of no particular quality or worth. That's why I am constantly avoiding getting near people, to not interfere with their procurements. And that's why I willingly submit to their will in case there is no way sparing them from busying themselves with my presence.
And that's how I could lead a devoted and humble life.
If I only wasn't male.

Since I am, I am haunted by sexual arousal when seeing beautiful women. As much as this is a desirable quality of real men, one suggested to be expressed openly, it is just as much inappropriate for a repulsive creature like the one I actually am.
Naturally the sexual urge is much more powerful as my weak personality, trying to keep the former down.
This is how I am loading up guilt on me. Because I cannot avoid the sexual tone of my stare, even when it is caught caught by the female's look.

But I want to be a good boy! Not that slithery wretch stalking the paths left behind from women annoyed with his proximity.
To pure myself from those bad desires, they are to be distorted in a way so that in the end they reflect content and ideas towards women that are suitable for creatures like me.

Evidently such images may never be those of penetration! Or sexual intercourse of any kind!
It has to be a exemplary way a woman might engage herself in me!
It cannot be other than that of correction!

So which correctional means are applicable in such a case?
First it has to comply to the intention of the measure. And that is of course ultimately ending any further obstruction.
As my offence originates in my sex, in me being male, there is no way in addressing my reason. A purely physical disposition can only be treated by physical means. Swift, there is no other way than physically extinction of my manhood, and that means, terminating my existence.
Moreover it is preferable for a such correctional measure to be carried out in a way that reveals its background, the reason it is applied for. (A fact earlier times jurisdiction was still aware of.)
And what other means of execution would be more suitable under above described circumstances than hanging by the neck? The helpless struggling from the end of a noose displaying at once the physical origin, as well as the reason (that is immeasurable superiority of the desired female over the inferior male).
The commonly observed death erection additionally underlining the sexual nature of the offence.

It has become time now to finally act...

Struck by view....

One of my older pics....

Gallows-Party

Video i found on the Page of a biker's group. They are not into the fetish but stage for medieval fairs. Impressive work anyway...

Feedback....

At least 100 pageviews per day, but not a single comment on the new story or anything else during the last 12 months...

Wow, what a great audience!

New World Order (3/3)

“Now... gentlemen...!” The girl doesn't manage to hold back some giggling in regard of such an address. But the mistress doesn't let herself getting disturbed by that:
“You may have realised by now, that this will be your terminal lesson. To my left, there's the gallows. And my sure-handed young sister, will string you up from it just one after another. Despite you being male, i am well aware, that for anyone, his existence is a very precious thing. Nonetheless your mere existence being a threat for our society, it's the counselling sister expressed opinion, those of your kind are to be hung. And we don't want to disrespect their feelings after all, do we...?
It might be futile to do, but i would like to address your intellectual dimension now. Condoms today, those you got slipped over right now, are not what condoms meant to be in former times. As we all want society to prospect, your exterminal semen will not be spurted in vain. As we're going to collect it. And we are going to use it so our beloved sisters may develop to real women, that meaning to give birth. As we are a civilized society today, we want to keep the violent sexual moment, all you males convey, off them.
But although your physical drive might not be fulfilled, at least not the way you urge for, rape, control and by that: abuse, your semen will be seeded on fertile ground, and it will help to give birth to new life. And isn't that all you're urging for in the end? To inseminate? To have distributed your sperm?
So this is the terminal lesson! And this is what this lesson is all about: We're fulfilling the circle of life, and we are providing to you the means to do it right!
I thank you for your attention!”
Silence. Then...
“Don't you want to thank your mistress for such a enlightening guidance?” the younger one whispers menacingly. The guys hesitate first, than there is a inconsistent murmur of “Thank you” and similar expressions.
“I beg your pardon” the younger sister steps forward, twitching the aluminium bar.
“Thank you very much, mistress” voices the choir at once.
“You do know how to be polite, but rather prefer not to be, do you?” the girl states, not for waiting for an answer this time.
“Please, proceed now.” the mistress asks her sister. “Only this one...” turning to the young one at the bottom of the row, “This one is going to do me a little favour...”
“Step forward, prick!” the apprentice commands and he does. The lady meanwhile moves back to her armchair, letting herself down on it, sinking into the soft cushion, slipping with one hand under pinafore and skirt, pulling forth her panties, dropping it carelessly.
“I like that one somehow, he'll give me pleasure until you carried out the four other ones. He's going last. And we're going to make it a bit easier for him in return.” She spreads her legs: “So please...”
The girl doesn't manage to hold back a dissatisfied look, but it's how her mistress feels like, so of course she doesn't oppose herself to that. Only the guy doesn't move.
“So go over to your mistress and do as she asked you to.”
He makes some steps toward her, then halts, not knowing where to look, getting no help from his fellows, stricken with fear, helplessly turning towards younger and older sister, does one more step than halts again, already in front of her:
“But isn't... that... considered disgraceful...?” he manages.
“You stop arguing now and kneel down in front of your mistress!” the apprentice screams, coming upon him eagerly.
“But...”
“Do you see these hands, son...?” the experienced one displays her skinny dexterous fingers, “I have stopped counting a long time ago now. But let me assure you of one thing: i know very well how to slip a noose over a handsome lad's neck like yours is. I can make you dance just as long as i want you to...”
Now the guy trembling with fear more than ever before finally breaks out in tears.
“I... I...”
The rod hitting the hollow of his knees from behind makes him do what he resisted to do, kneeling before the mistress, his unbalanced body nearly topples over, his chin coming to rest just between the legs of his mistress, who instantly pulls up her skirt, so her blossom lies open in front of him, filling his senses with her scent. She slides the skirt back, covering his head.
“You are going to start veery slowly. Just count, every noise of a stool kicked, you may get faster. It would be perfect to climax at number four.
I might reconsider your uninsightfullness then...”
And still sobbing, he starts licking eagerly. Shivering over and over while pleasuring her.
“Please...” says the mistress winking somewhat thoughtlessly towards her apprentice, getting more relaxed every minute.
It's finally the turn of our young instructress now, who moves to the next guy in the row, grabs his arm and drags him silently towards the beam, and the stool placed beneath. She puts up one of the nooses form the ground, gets behind him, slips it over his head, places it tight around his neck then, witnessing the shiver running down his body, when the rope embraces his delicate skin. The end of the rope following down his spine now.
“Step on the stool know.” she commands and he does. She places one of the stools behind his, steps upon it, is very close to him, smells the fear from his naked body, sees the muscles, their trembling, she has done quite some so far, but she still is not yet used to it. She wants to enjoy it one day, probably not quite like her mistress does right now, but she wants to be able to really do it out of ease once. She takes the loose end, then fixes it to the hook. Then steps down again, leaving him strung up. Bending aside, to see if the mistress is about to something. But being rather occupied right now, she doesn't really want to have to interfere any more, waving slightly annoyed with her hand:
“Jjj...ust go ahead. Strr...ing them up..., right one after the other, you... mhmm... are able to do that!”
The girl hesitating one more moment, thank kicking hard against the stool, that rumbles from under the first guys feet. He doesn't really drop, just dangles following the impulse he received, one of the guys in the row emits a shrill shriek, the mistress opens her mouth wide, sliding the tongue over her lips, as the helpless guy slowly starts to kick, driven from the nooses grab around his soft neck, his muscles spasm, his cock rises continuingly, then he quickly gets limb. The apprentice just manages to get in his front in time, he didn't spurt by himself so far, but a slight manipulation from her hand makes him come involuntarily but swiftly,than dangling still from the rope. The lady moans. A slight scent of death is filling the room now.
More resistance from the next, the suicidal one. She gets him up the stool, but as she wants to knot the end of the rope he starts to yell:
“You're not instructesses... What you're is murderesses, you're plain killers, that's what you are. I crap on your society. This is no civilization! This is a terror rule! You might kill us now! But there will be resistance, there will be....”
The older sister definitely angry from being disturbed while receiving pleasure, yells:
“Just shift the noose a little bit under his chin. This is still a lesson, and than make him quiet!”
“You can torture me to the end, just go on, just reveal your true nature, you monste...” The stool leaves his feet noisily, cutting off his breath, bending back his head, he is kicking instantly, his hopeful feet trying to touch ground made unreachable for him, his body stretches, longer and longer, but far from getting him anywhere, continuing kicking, sobering from the two left in the row, witnessing terrorised the dance of their fellow, getting nearer and nearer to their own fate. It takes him 5 minutes, the tightened sling forces his penis up like an awaking sprout, it waggles futilely, he doesn't come, he doesn't go, dangling like forever from the noose's end, kicking, palpitating, agony forming his face to the likeness of his mistress. Then he finally shoots into the condom. His tired dick finally bends downs, dragging his resistance with it, bringing him down, then his is still.
Number three, being overweight goes quite easily, he hangs still from the noose, without any kicking, only shivering slightly. Two, three pumps are enough to milk him, then there is finally a third lifeless body, hung by its neck, carried by a massive beam.
The lady now is fully aroused, moaning wildly, moving here stretched out tongue from one corner of her mouth to the other, overwhelmed by the service provided between her legs, and the continuing view of men slowly and helplessly hanged to their unlucky death, bought violently to ejaculation, one time in their lives against their will, what a lesson!
As much joy this scene is providing for our lady, the fourth one seeing all the lifeless bodies next to him, having the strong smell of death in his nose, knowing he's definitly going to following them now is about to panic. The young woman, has to drag him under the beam, continuedly hitting him with the rod, beating him up the stool, tossing him down from behind, while still standing on her stool, hooking herself on his body and pulling him down, so the snapping of his neck can distinctively be heard by all in the room. But she has her hand on his cock, being enough to have his involuntary insemination inside the rubber cloth.
Left number five, who is trembling beneath the skirt, of the mistress he is serving bravely. He never stopped to sob. But the lady still hasn't finished so far.
“We can't hang him now..., i need him to fulfil his task” she sighs, “may i ask you to just sling him the rope around the neck, and strangle him using your bar.
We'll save time doing so, and he definitely will do a good job this way... After having been such a disappointment up to now.
The guy wants to flee. But the young mistress has already his head pressing it against the senior one's demanding slit. The rope is quickly wound around his neck, she ties it together over the bar, and starts turning, forcing his tongue out again, forcing him doing his job, while still breathing rantingly. His body loose all balances, his feet urge to kick, his tied hands trying to get free. But the young one holds him in position, pushing the bar forth and forth, eventually cutting his breath, making his tongue work by itself, controlling his twitching muscles under her.
Then he finally goes limb, but late enough for his mistress to relax together with him, he slides down lifelessly, the tongue protruding from his mouth, the back of the head hitting ground, lies there motionless, garotted slowly to his death.
“The best you can get out of men! And you just skipped it...!” the older sister sighs ,,But you really did it all quite smooth, darling!”
“Thank you mistress!”

New World Order (2/3)

The mistress, who sat there watching quietly so far, finally interrupts her:
“Be calm darling... Remember, you only get smoothness, if you create it yourself first. Give the young lad some time...
This is still a lesson after all...!”
“I apologize, mistress... I just wanted to avoid giving them any chance to release their physical aggressiveness...”
“How well I now, darling...! And you're quite right to be aware of that. Nonetheless they are all well cuffed, and accessible to any disciplinary action you choose. So just relax...!”
“Yes mistress...
So handle your shirt first before getting up!” she tells him, trying to keep her patience.
“I... I will...” he responds. And manages to at the end. Now they again all stand there, lined up in front of the desk naked and shivering, trying to hold their sighs, to not raise any more anger of their young instructress, but not managing it all time long, earning dare-you-looks, from her, who herself searches for an opinion in the eyes of her mistress now.
“Just go ahead.... You're doing quite fine so far. Just stay relaxed...!”
So the girls walks forth to the sturdy desk, commanding the first one:
“You! Step forward, and bend over the table!”
The one, a older one, she wonders if he might be even older than thirty, asking herself how he managed to make it up to such an age, allowing herself some slight feelings of respect towards him, as he must have gained quite control over his physical impulse for getting so far. He has put his chest flat on the lacquer surface, awaiting things to follow. She raises the rod meanwhile, leading a key down to his hands, asking herself why not just more men were like this one, which would have rendered things much much smoother. She finds the lock and opens the cuff, ready to strike at any sign of resistance.
“Put your hands on your back... Calmly!” she orders. He does, his knees shivering from such an become uneasy position. She relocks the cuffs in his back, then stepping right behind him, shoving his legs apart with her knee, grabbing one of the plugs placed on the table earlier and drives it up his anus with one continuing move. His body stiffens and he groans. She reaches under his body, to check his penis for erection. Positive, and she sighs, uttering to herself, but so that he can hear it as well:
“Violence and again violence, is that all you guys understand? Don't you have no feelings? No emotions...?”
He doesn't answer. She keeps his erected piece in her hand, grabs a transparent condom from one of her pockets, slips it over with an uneasy feeling.
The next one is younger, probably 22 or 23 but certainly not much older. The procedure she applies is the same, only when reseizing his wrists, she remarks rather fresh vertical scars on them. Must be one of the suicidal ones. Not able to impose it on someone else, turning his aggressiveness against himself. Pitiable creature almost, but only as long one not knows what lies behind such behaviour.
So she proceeds. Meditating on the backgrounds of her work, accompanied by the content moanings of her mistress.
Yes they are pitiable, but at the one hand, they demand severe control by all females to keep up a balanced and peaceful society. It's not that some liberty hasn't been tried. But it had failed. She read all about it in the manuals. And now they had to stick to the more severe kind of tutoring. That being sad somehow, there just was no alternative way.
She finally had reached to the last, the very young one, that was shaking badly.
“Just keep it still!” she says, trying to rather convey a sense of understanding, than to express her continuing impatience with him. But his trembling goes on. She plugs him nonetheless, with quite a violent move, he queecks, his body retracting. But this time the check fails, he is limb like a dried out garden hose. She pulls back for a moment. Reflects about what to do next, tries to get in the plug just a little bit deeper. With him palpitating as only result. Then she tries, to get the rubber on his penis nevertheless, but again to no avail.
Helplessly she turns to her older sister:
“Mistress, this one just doesn't get it...!
How should i proceed?”
Having been watching mutely all time long, she now raises, with a faint smile on her lips, comes up toward her apprentice.
“Darling, you've done such good work so far, but this now is one thing, that makes out a real instructress. This means knowing what you won't find in the textbooks. So i ask you to watch and lean!”
She comes up to the young guy, still bend over the table shivering:
“So our little piggy doesn't get a hard one, hmm?” she ask in an emotion clad way, which even towards youngest instructees is definitley been asked to avoid by the counseling sisters voice. Swiftly she slaps her flat hand on his buttocks, making them wabble, going on stroking over them in continuing circles, shifting forward then, reaching his piece and professionally and caring it once, pulling his foreskin back from his glans. He sighs softly, having him made aroused enough, she gets over the condom, haven't taken more than 2 minutes all in all.
“See...? They may be mannerless brutes, but a lady's emotional touch always turns out to be more powerful. That's why we are to guide society after all...
You now may raise. “ directed to the donator.
Once again, they're lined up neatly one next to the other, looking shamefully to the ground not to arouse any dismay. They are just one step closer to final treatment.
“Allow me to interfere for one more time, my dear!” the older sister says, getting in posture right before the guys:

New World Order (1/3)

A dark room, clean, windowless and nearly empty, except for six stools, some more chairs and one single slightly more convenient armchair. In one corner, there is a tiny but strong desk. Just under the ceiling a massive beam runs all along from one side of the room to the other.

A thin ray of light cuts into the room as the senior lady is entering, pulling in air, filled with the scent of past fear and exhaustion. She is around 50, and dressed all in black. She presses the air out of here lungs into the void. After her follows a young woman in her mid twenties, also completely in black.

“So let's get ready for the day!” the older lady says. Clapping her hands together, breathing once more heavily. The younger one switches on the light, filling the room with light, reflected by the naked walls.
The girl at once grabs one stool after another, and arranges them just under the beam, until there are 5 pieces put up in a row.
“And don't worry about, what the distinguished ones say. They might convince themselves to despise you, but deep inside they are pretty jealous for you, because they know quite well about the liberty you have inside these walls, my dear... And sooner or later, you will understand that. And you will derive joy out of that, too...!”
“Yes mistress!” she replies, rearranging each of the stools a bit to make their order just a little more perfect, then wiping their surface with her bare hand.
“You really don't have to that. And you are well aware of that, aren't you darling?”
“I just...”
“I ask you to just stop it! Now please...!”
“Yes mistress!”

The girl looks around the room, not quite sure what to do next, but urged to do just something. Meanwhile, the senior lady grabs one of the black latex pinafores, hanging from a hook at the wall, and covers her front with it, wrapping the lashes around her waist and finally fixes them tight in her back.
“The desk! Would you put it near the door? That's where we'll need it after all.”
The apprentice doesn't reply this time, instead hurries to follow the request, while the lady slips her left hand into a latex glove, and unrolls it up her arm.
“Probably a little bit farther from the door, so our clients fit in between door and desk.” alongside covering her right arm.
“Please put the plugs on the surface now, and then make sure you get dressed in time.”
The lady looks through the room, inspecting the put up scenery, gets a rather satisfied look, then moves forward and drags the sturdy armchair, closer to the beam and sinking into the soft cushion, stretching her legs, taking one more deep breath, whereas the girl now gets into her pinafore.
“Why not get some pleasure from one of our donators today...? Would make you more relaxed...
I can tell you that!”
“I don't know...” the girls responds hesitatingly,
“I just don't want to get it unsmooth today. Since i've never carried it out all on my own so far...”
“Just you don't you worry so much, darling! I will be here all the time...!”
“I'd rather just not... If mistress isn't displeased by that.”
“See! it's not that I am asking you to... It's just what i suggest you from my emotional point of view. I want you to carry it out just as smooth and elegant, as you want to, precious...!”
The girl is ready now too, both ladies' bodies, young and experienced, shimmer from the pale light on their .
“How you just look gorgeous, my dear. Fits you really well that one! And you'll make quite an impression on the donators too...!”
“Do you really feel that way?” the young one asks shyly.
“Certainly...! But now don't forget our tools of work!”
“Yes mistress!” the apprentice responds, grabs a red bag, she put under the table earlier, and gets out cords and shiny s-shaped hooks, counts 5 each, and puts the rest back into bag. Walks towards the stools, steps on the first one, reaches up and attaches one hook to a small iron loop in the beam, all under the eyes of her experienced sister. She continues with the four being left. After having accomplished that, squatting next to her mistress, starting to tie nooses out of the plain cloth.
“So you really never entered one between your legs...?”
“N...no...
Isn't it thought to be disgraceful in the opinion of our counselling sisters after all...? And aren't there to learn strict lessons for such things? I didn't wont to learn a lesson because of that, because of men...! I want to serve our society, i want to discipline men rather then obtain unsmooth pleasures from them...!”
“My dear, i am certain one day you will realize, that opinions expressed by the counselling sisters are one thing, undoubtedly a precious guideline for our society, but as long as you don't hurt any feelings..., its just fine...! And the sisters' perception doesn't reach inside these walls...
“I see, mistr...” she's interrupted by a loud knocking noise against the door, echoing in the wide empty room.
“I beg you” the lady calls out, the door opens and in steps a skirt uniformed guard:
“I am bringing you the dicks!” she calls, “five pieces of muscular horny dicks, ready to learn their final lesson!”
“So I beg you to enter them...” the lady voices in an official melody.
The guard leaves the room again, her instructions dimmed by massive walls and door:
“So you want to-be-rapist pricks. It's your mistresses waiting inside, ready to tell you a final lesson. So move right in, predatory scum!”
Thus hesitantly entering five young men, between 20 and 30 years of age. Looking uncertainly around in the room, their eyes quickly hooked by the view of the beam, letting them positively know, which kind of lesson awaits them.
The guard steps in behind, shoving her boots to form an open triangle on the floor.
“I could stay... Just in case atmosphere might drop. I could shoot them in the belly, in case they turn unease, or even aggressive.”
Heavy respiring from the five men, finally wholly realising their fate.
“I appreciate your concern,” the mistress states, “but my apprentice and me are quite at ease about handling a pack of dick driven guys...
“See...,” she whispers to her disciple, “everyone goes for it, dear...!
I ask you to leave now...” towards the guard.
“Thank you! And i wish you a smooth lesson...” off.

The older sister, arranges hair armchair in a way, she can better see the group of men, wearing simple but clean grey shorts and thin shirts of the same colour. Their hands are cuffed in front of their bodies.
“It's up to you now, darling” the experienced one whistles. The younger sister instantly gains posture, pulls a shiny rounded aluminium rod from her belt then commands:
“Undress! At once!” her words impact on the males and one after another pulls his pants down, following with their shirts, what poses some difficulties for them, since cuffed, but they manage it, as already used to such introductions to up following lessons, baring their bodies, their penises and their marks received from former physical education, obviously having been without satisfying effects. Only one of them doesn't get it straight, catches himself in the shirt with his head, pulling and at once trying not to loose balance.
“What are you waiting for, prick!” the girl shouts to him. “Is violation on your mind keeping you from doing what you've been asked...?”
“No mistress... Please just a mo...ughh...!” the instant blow he receives from her rod, interrupts him, bringing him down easily and he lands very uneasy.
“Get up, scum...!” she yells at him, none of the other males looking over to them, well aware to not be intercepted by her fierce regard, “Not enough energy for discipline? Uncontrolled aggression is all what your kind is capable of....!
Get up already...!” she screams...
“At once...” he tries to obey, but still doesn't manage it, his head and hands wrangled together, covered by the shirt. She raises the rod, ready to bring it down on him...

My Landlady!

She is certainly around her fifties but somehow preserved a youthlike appearance. She has dark hair reaching her shoulders. Her look is at once warm and frightenly deep. The one thing i remarke about her at once are the shoe liners rendering her toes, promissing she would slip her feet into soft ballerinas.
She is engaging into a talk with me, telling me about herself and her life, about her writing poetry and stuff...
But i lack any attention for her talk as my look wanders from from the soft cloth covering the shape of her feet into the bottomless depth of her eyes and back.
Anoyed by such disrespect, she decides to take severe measures against my behavior.

Eventually she slips into her shoes, drags me out on open land to a deserted sanctuary. She strips me naked there. Slings a rope over the beam of the entrance gate, all silent without any word. she strings me up from that beam naked, making me dance.
And a goup of schoolgirls passing stop by to giggle over my involuntary erection.
She leaves me there, strung up and motionless, returning home in silence, writing down a poem on justice served, saving my existence through the means of her words, having given it a meaning at last...

The Koran girl,

aged around 20. She is very stylish. Last time she wore a short black dress, with frills not quite hiding her thighs, letting her legs appear to be even longer. She covered them with opaque violet tights, as required by current fashion trends. And her feet, she always shuffles them to form an open triangle, which looks totally girlie. She wears black flat and somehow wrinkled maryjaneses, pointy and bent up over her toes.
Her moon face is perfectly made up, an obscure blaze around her eyes, the cheeks en rose.
She has a childish attitude, and lisps when speaking, what lets her appear rather dumb.

I hallucinate becoming her toy, being strung up occasionaly just like that. Right after having licked her shoes clean together with those of her friends, having joined in to giggle on my convulsive exiting together.

About things that changed...

I said, I feel dried out, and that is still true.
Nonetheless, there is still something left to say:
From the beginning on, the age when i started to be aware of my sexuality, it had that deviant turn. My fantasies always revolved around asphyxiation, especially hanging.
But originally it was me to do the hanging or at least i imagined female victimes. In my fantasies i strung up all of those special girls, i just cannot tell what made them accurate in my point of view. But it were definitely some strange kind of girls...
It's only later on, around the age of fifteen things changed. And I remember quite well what was the cause: One of my highschool-teachers. She was somehow cold and strict. And she also dressed that way. So i started to fantasize about being her slave. Kneeling in front of her, licking her shoes, licking her between her legs, being beaten up by her, and so forth...
And finally being strung up by her...
So what was the difference between her and all the other girls? It was that she was untouchable! I would never get her, not only because i was toob timid, but because it just wasn't possible! And the distance between her and me was uncountable times larger, than to all the girls. And that made my desire for her just the more unjust and crying out for punishment, so a capital one seemed just to be what was necessary for me.
Further on I spread this kind of fantasy to many other woman around me, who were distinctly older than me. And that is my desire until now!
Nevertheless I also kept to be the violator in my dreams. But that part diminished with the time passing by. I only cant remember at what age this actually faded out.
I can enjoy the image of a woman hanging today. But this just isn't my thing anymore...