ASA Story: Libby's Gift (M/F, strangling, snuff overtones)
Damien
There's a few things you gotta read before you go on to the story.
First, there's sexually explicit stuff here. If you're not old enough to
vote, go on to the next message. Better yet, unsubscribe to this
discussion group. Gwan, kid, shoo! And that goes double if sexually
explicit stories are illegal where you are!
Second, this is a work of <u>fiction</u>! No actual people or animals were
harmed in the writing of this story.
Third, don't try this stuff at home. You could end up dead! Over 200
people a year die playing with asphyxia in the USA. That's not counting
the rest of the world.
Remember, I didn't *make* you read this story. Feel free to complain to me
if you think it's badly written. But if you don't like stories about people
getting strangled to death while having sex, don't blame anybody but
yourself.
Here's some blank space to give you a chance to skip to the next message.
After that, you're on your own.
Summary: This story includes descriptions of a woman being strangled,
nearly killed, during anal intercourse and fantasies of her murder by
strangulation. Consensual.
Preface: This story is told in the first & second person because it
grew out of a fantasy that Libby and I developed by email. I hope you
enjoy it as much as we did.
Libby's Gift
by A. P. Damien and Libby
We've been discussing our shared fantasies for a long time, in and out
of bed. You've always liked to fantasize about it, but don't think you
could ever go through with it.
But I know the time is now. I've been reading your body's signals,
especially the loud sighs whenever we talk about it. You always mention
it; if you're not ready now, you never will be.
You've been traveling on business and arranged for me to meet you at
your hotel for a long evening of fun. First a little food to delight
our senses and provide fuel for a strenuous evening. Room service delivers
pasta and vegetables with a light sauce of tomatoes and chicken stock.
I brought ingredients for a chocolate fondue -- two kinds of fine
chocolate bars melted with heavy cream and just one teaspoon of brandy.
Pound cake, bananas, and strawberries to dip in it. There is a forfeit
if either of us drops the food in the fondue, or worse yet on the floor
-- a kiss wherever the other one wants.
We often indulge in champagne, but not this time; it would dull your
senses for the pain play to come.
We're a little full after that, but a long hot shower, tapering off to
warm, helps take care of that. More time passes while you rub my back
and then the rest of my body, then I return the favor. We're almost too
limp to move, and we haven't even gotten serious yet.
I spend a long time making love with you this time. Kissing the back
of your neck, biting it lightly, then perhaps harder, whatever brings
the pleasure noises. Kissing, licking, biting your nipples; wondering
if you want to try the clamps this time.
From the dresser I take the silk scarf you wanted for your birthday
present and use it to satisfy another fantasy: I blindfold you. Then
I continue licking you everywhere but especially where you moan
loudest. You never know where I will touch or nibble you next, but
you know it will bring pleasure. I experiment on you with my hands,
spanking you and twisting your nipples. When that brings sounds of
pleasure, I get a light crop out of my toybag, making stingy sensations
on your buttocks, thighs, nape of your neck, then your breasts, your
nipples. That sounds promising, so I apply the clamps and distribute a
few clothespins on your already inflamed breasts.
Eventually, I try the crop on your labia. You make appreciative noises,
so I apply the tip around and even on your clitoris. I test how really
aroused and wet you are, by inserting the tip of the crop into you.
You just moan more encouragement.
You moan even louder while my lips and tongue worship your already
stimulated clitoris. By the time I'm done you have come at least once
and it's time for you to pleasure me. I remove the blindfold, clamps
and clothespins and use another scarf to tie your hands to the bed. I
kneel astride your chest and you open your mouth to me. I allow you to
wrap your lips around my cock. You lick and suck on it, then I thrust
deeply into your mouth, then throat, then pulling almost all the way out
so your lips can pleasure the head again.
And now I'm ready too. I work my way slowly down your body, licking your
ears, your mouth, your neck, your breasts, nipples, your belly. Then I
slide up again, letting you feel my chest hair rub against your body
as I position myself between your legs.
I won't last long once I'm in you, but the long buildup leaves you
screaming in ecstasy. Once you get your breath back, you mumble that
I have ruined you for any other lover and can't imagine it ever getting
better. Little do you know.
Enjoying the afterglow, we lie together like spoons, me keeping your
back warm, as we quietly confide our most erotic fantasies. Many of
these are worn smooth, we've talked about them so many times....
Your desire for bondage and pain, which I have now at least partly
satisfied. My desire for a woman who will try anal intercourse.
Your asphyxia fetish, which encourages me to discuss my fantasies
of strangling a woman to death in various ways....
A woman giving me a blowjob while she hangs......
Standing intercourse on a chair with a noose around her neck, then
kick away the chair....
And one of my favorites, strangling a woman from behind while I'm in her
ass.
Which leads quite naturally to one of your fantasies, being slowly
strangled with a silk scarf. You mention that you brought with you the
long, soft, scarf with the flower motif that I gave you last year.
Then my hands begin to roam idly over your body again, finding the areas
you most like to have caressed. Not demanding, just reminding you of
the possibilities of pleasure. Keeping both of us in a relaxed,
pleasurable, partly aroused state.
If you suspect me of ulterior motives, you don't protest. Maybe you
just don't care, as long as we are both having such fun. After all,
you can always refuse -- or so you think before the lassitude takes
over.
But we're both too exhausted by that long session to do much more, so we
lie there lazily, cuddling, chatting, not quite dozing. We cuddle for a
couple of hours, but eventually I feel the need to get up. I bring back
a plate of sliced fruit and a glass of the Schramsberg champagne I
brought. We share them, both for pleasure and for the energy they
provide.
I start murmuring to you. A nice, quiet, even voice. Just barely above
a whisper, but loud enough you can hear the deep tones of my bass voice.
Reminding you of the fantasy. I sense a slight hesitation in response
and change my approach, talking about how beautiful you are. Still
murmuring low, but with a little more music in my voice, I mention how
much I've always wanted to take a woman anally. How I've hoped you
would be the one to give me that gift. How much you like to please me.
I reach down to the chair where you folded up your silk robe and pull
the belt free. I take one hand and tie the belt around your wrist.
Then the other hand, still talking quietly as I tie your wrists together.
A slight pressure on your back tells you to roll over and lie face down.
I raise your hands slowly over your head, to the corner of the bed.
Crawl across you, tie the silken belt to the bedpost.
Now you lie helpless, ready for me to do as I want with you. You could
kick and thrash, perhaps, but even with your hands free it would be hard
for you to resist me. With them bound like this you can't even run from
me. Of course, you still have your voice. You could say, "No! Don't
do this to me." But it's not that frightening, is it? Of course not.
A new experience, given for my pleasure and yours. And you feel so
relaxed after sex.
I nibble at your ears and neck, while one hand reaches down between your
legs and plays with you until you are wet. I keep it up, slowly, too
slow for you to reach the heights, until you start to whimper a little.
Now I get some oil and spread it generously between your buttocks. I
coat my fingers with it and slowly press one against your asshole.
Still talking. How much I want this. I want you to do this for me.
You want to give me this. The finger slips in. And still my voice
murmurs in your ear as another finger presses against the opening and
worms its way into your ass.
My other hand plays with your labia and clit, while my voice reassures
you that three fingers are bigger than my cock. My deep voice, asking
you for this gift. When I judge you are ready, I carefully work a third
finger into your asshole. Still my voice telling you, "Give me this.
You want to give me this gift. For my pleasure, and yours."
Then the fingers withdraw. Perhaps you feel something missing without
them. But you feel my body above you and my cock pressing gently
against your rear hole. My voice, insistent in your ear. My cock,
pressing just as insistently against your anus. Waiting for you.
When I feel the sphincter relax for me, I press gently forward until the
head is nestled within your anus. I remind you that the head is the
thickest part, the rest is easy. A pause to allow you to relax again,
then I slowly push all the way in.
Now I am lying on top of you, warming your back with my body heat. My
weight presses you down against the bed. Your hands are out of the way.
And I am in you, where I want to be. Where you want me to be. Surely
you have always wanted this?
One hand playing with your clit to keep you interested. My voice,
talking to you about how tight your asshole is. How good it feels.
Now I bring up your other fantasy again. The scarf around your neck.
Tight. Tighter. Slowly strangling you. You giving your life to me
for your fantasy -- and my own.
Now I reach out again, getting your long silk scarf from the end table.
Soft. Strong. The beautiful print with the calla lilies. Such a soft
thing. So soft. Surely not a threat. I lay it gently across the back
of your neck.
My voice grows deeper and more musical. Almost chanting. I take up the
theme of our fantasy. Of how beautiful your neck is. How sexy it will
look with the scarf digging into it. Of the joy you will feel,
surrendering your life to me. Allowing me to strangle you, slowly. Oh,
so slowly. Until you stop, forever. For my pleasure. And for your
pleasure. For the way you will feel, helpless, giving your breath,
your life, to me. For that delicious, lightheaded feeling you will
have toward the end.
And you feel so relaxed, and so good around my cock. You've granted me
one pleasure I've always wanted. Won't you grant me this, too? It's
something we've both wanted for a long time.
If you don't protest, I will take it as consent.
I pause briefly and listen. Waiting for an objection, even a whisper.
But you are silent. Perhaps you consent. Perhaps you're just too
relaxed to object. Perhaps you don't really believe me when I say
I'm going to fulfill your deepest desire and strangle you to death.
You don't say anything, so I work the scarf around your neck. I cross
the ends twice, making a nice loop around your neck. I start pulling,
gently, as I move slowly in your ass. Just a gentle pressure, not
enough to hurt or affect your breathing. Only a hint of what's coming.
I rummage in my toybag and find a shaving mirror. I prop it on the
bed so I can see your face and the front of your neck.
You feel my chest warm your back, hear my voice in your ear. Quietly,
reminding you how sexy this is. Going over our fantasies, how much I
want you this way. My gift to you. Your gift to me.
I increase the pressure, so slowly. Over a minute before you feel a
catch in your breathing. Even longer before you are aware of any
serious difficulty breathing. Perhaps you even find it frustrating that
I am taking so long.
It hurts now, just a little. But still you hear me murmuring. How I
want this. How _you_ want this. How exciting it is. Just let go. Let
go of your fear. Let go of your need to breathe. Give me the ultimate
gift. Just let go.
I can hear your breathing grow ragged, and I pause again, to listen for
a protest. Just a few seconds, your last chance to whisper if you want
me to stop. But do you want me to stop? Do you _really_ want me to
stop? Which is more important to you? Your fear? Or my happiness?
Our happiness?
No whisper of protest. For whatever reason, you didn't stop me. I pull
a little harder, and now it's too late. You couldn't protest if you
tried. A raspy gurgle or a wet gasping sound, perhaps. But not speech,
there just isn't enough air any more.
And I'm talking to you again. Let go. Just relax and let go. This is
your fantasy as much as my own. Feel me in you. My body warming your
back. My breath and my teeth on the back of your neck. And the scarf,
still smooth, but no longer quite so soft. That's right, just relax.
And ... slowly ... I increase the tension, pulling the scarf tighter and
tighter around your neck, until even the gurgling stops. But my voice
goes on. Let go. You don't really need to breathe, it's just an
illusion from your body.
But your chest muscles have a life of their own. You are able to relax
for perhaps 15 seconds, then your ribs strain to expand your lungs. But
no air comes. Just my murmurs, Let go. Let it go.
Your head arches back as your chest muscles react to the choking
sensation. Your nose and mouth stretch wide for air, but there is no
air for you. No air, ever again. Your gift to me. Let go. Go.
I'm still moving slowly in your ass, but now your body adds its own
motion as it struggles to free itself from the scarf that is
strangling you. It's good, so very good. Thank you for this gift.
The need to breathe peaks, it seems unbearable, but you can still hear
my voice telling you to let it go, let it all go. Let go of breath.
Let go of life. Let go of your body.
And now you seem to be floating somewhere else. The needs of your body
no longer seem to matter. There is just the dreamy sensation, the warm
pressure on your neck, and my cock in your asshole. There's a ringing
in your ears, making it hard to hear my voice but it seems to be in the
same rhythm. Let go. No more pain. No more air. No more... Go...
Nothing is real now, not even your body. Am I moving faster and harder?
Was that a warm spurting within your ass? Did my voice, so calm and
even, rise to a scream of pleasure? You can't even tell if that
was a final orgasm or just another convulsion as your body goes away
from you forever. Everything goes gray, then black, and you know no
more. No more. No more breath. No more hunger. Letting go...
No more...
Until you wake up again, cradled in my arms, your hands free. Your neck
hurts, so does your chest. But you feel so fulfilled. And I feel it
too. Thank you for letting go. I kiss you again, your lips, your ears,
your neck, your eyelids. Not sexy now, just affectionate. Thank you
for your gift. I have lent it back to you, this time. Next time?
Who knows....
===========================================================
Did you like this story? You can find more at
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I'd also like to hear about it. Tell me what you like about it, and what you
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feedback from the readers - and usually not enough of that.
If you like stories of this type, but didn't like this story, I'd like to
hear about that, too. Especially if you can articulate what was wrong with
this story.
But if you think stories about people getting strangled or hanged, even
killed, during sex are icky and shouldn't exist, don't come whining to me.
Why did you read it if you don't like stories of that type?
--
A. P. Damien
Replies directly to this address will NOT be anonymized.
Bacchae
> I appreciate your verification
> that there is no case in the literature of a choke fatality in
judo
> practice. I would be interested in more details if anyone has any
> follow-up data on these cases.
I don't know about follow-up but there are two papers I didn't
include, one that didn't have an abstract and one that didn't
provide enough information. I had saved these two cites because I
occasionally go and look up papers in the university's med library.
There may be some things worth reading in them:
TITLE: Trauma epidemiology in the martial arts. The results of an
eighteen-year international survey.
AUTHORS: Birrer RB
SOURCE: Am J Sports Med. 1996;24(6 Suppl):S72-9. No abstract
available.
CIT. IDS: PMID: 8947435 UI: 97103063
TITLE: Deaths allegedly caused by the use of "choke holds"
(shime-waza). AUTHORS: Koiwai EK SOURCE: J Forensic Sci 1987
Mar;32(2):419-32 CITATION IDS: PMID: 3572335 UI: 87197136 ABSTRACT:
Shime-waza or the "choke hold", when properly applied, should not
cause death; therefore, its primary purpose should be to subdue
violent suspects. When properly applied, the choke hold causes
unconsciousness in 10 to 20 s. No fatalities as a result of
shime-waza have been reported in the sport of judo since its
inception in 1882. Among the methods of "control holds" taught to
law enforcement officers is the choke hold similar or identical to
shime-waza used in judo. Using the choke hold, officers may afford
themselves maximum safety while subjecting the suspect to a minimum
possibility of injury. The author has reviewed 14 fatalities with
autopsy findings where death was allegedly caused by the use of
choke holds.
- Sandy
Bacchae at cadvision dot com
Philip the Foole
Foole: The full text of the article by Dr. Koiwai can be found at the
Judo Information Site: http://www.ijf.org/commission/ed-rp-02.html
Jay Wiseman (for whose BDSM safety work I have the greatest respect) and
I have often debated the question of why there never seem to be any
choke-related deaths on the judo mat and yet choke deaths while in
police custody (such as those reviewed here by Dr. Koiwai) are
reported. This is particularly puzzling, since there are clearly *far*
more chokes used in sport judo than are used during police arrests.
Jay's hypothesis (if I understand him correctly) is that the
exceptionally high degree of stress during an arrest and resulting flood
of epinephrine may be a factor.
My personal belief (as a former SWAT team martial arts instructor with
some personal knowledge of police training procedures) is that lack of
training and the stress of the combat situation lead to improper
technique (such as the use of a police baton across the front of the
throat, crushing the larynx) in many of these "police custody death"
cases.
On a more cynical note, I suspect that if Rodney King had died (and the
group beating by Los Angeles police officers had not been videotaped)
the official explanation would have been that he was "unusually
susceptible to a properly applied police choke hold."
Your Humble Jester,
Philip the Foole
SilverOz
Bacchae <bac...@nospam.cadvision.com> wrote:
>shime-waza have been reported in the sport of judo since its
>inception in 1882. Among the methods of "control holds" taught to
>law enforcement officers is the choke hold similar or identical to
>shime-waza used in judo. Using the choke hold, officers may afford
>themselves maximum safety while subjecting the suspect to a minimum
>possibility of injury. The author has reviewed 14 fatalities with
>autopsy findings where death was allegedly caused by the use of
>choke holds.
>
I recall some time ago, Jay Wiseman positing that the reason that the
choke holds didn't kill judoka and did kill suspects being subdued was
that the suspects had far more of some adrenaline related chemical in
their blood, which changed enough of the chemistry to stress the
heart.
I suspect that the state of mind of the officer may have something to
do with it too, but what changes in technique are needed to kill, that
these guys may be unconsciously doing?
Or maybe a combination of both? (leaving aside the "but are they
really trained well enough?" question.)
SilverOz
Cassi Ann Donahue
>Jay Wiseman (for whose BDSM safety work I have the greatest respect) and
>I have often debated the question of why there never seem to be any
>choke-related deaths on the judo mat and yet choke deaths while in
>police custody (such as those reviewed here by Dr. Koiwai) are
>reported. This is particularly puzzling, since there are clearly *far*
>more chokes used in sport judo than are used during police arrests.
>Jay's hypothesis (if I understand him correctly) is that the
>exceptionally high degree of stress during an arrest and resulting flood
>of epinephrine may be a factor.
>My personal belief (as a former SWAT team martial arts instructor with
>some personal knowledge of police training procedures) is that lack of
>training and the stress of the combat situation lead to improper
>technique
Interesting. Do you think that improper technique on the part of the
victim could also be partly to blame? In a judo match the "victim"
presumably also knows the proper hold and, while they would try to
get out of it, they would be careful to not put themselves in a
worse position (by moving such that the forearm is against the
trachea, perhaps). Whereas a wildly struggling suspect might try
*anything* to get away. Including things that are likely to get
them dead.
*sheesh* talk about "blame the victim."
--Cassi
--
One of the interesting things about the Internet is the large number of
people on it who aren't inhabiting the same universe as me....
-- Boris Ludmenkov
Philip the Foole
*sheesh* talk about "blame the victim."
Foole: That's an excellent point, and one which might very well have an
influence on the outcome of the "police custody" deaths reviewed by Dr.
Koiwai. A judo player is trained to counter the typical police
"sleeper" (hadaka jime) choke hold by instantly turning into the crook
of the elbow to avoid pressure on the front of the throat. [Lady Foole,
standing behind me, adds that she also tucks her chin to make it
virtually impossible to secure a rear choke against her if she is not
cooperating.]
Cassi Ann Donahue
>> Cassi Ann Donahue: Do you think that improper technique on the part
>>of the victim could also be partly to blame? ...
>Foole: That's an excellent point,
Thank you. See, blaming the victim isn't all bad ;)
> and one which might very well have an
>influence on the outcome of the "police custody" deaths reviewed by Dr.
>Koiwai. A judo player is trained to counter the typical police
>"sleeper" (hadaka jime) choke hold by instantly turning into the crook
>of the elbow to avoid pressure on the front of the throat. [Lady Foole,
>standing behind me, adds that she also tucks her chin to make it
>virtually impossible to secure a rear choke against her if she is not
>cooperating.]
Sounds like a good technique. I think that the reaction of an
untrained person might be to strain up and forward with the chin
(like you see people do when loosening their tie, or tugging the
neck of a too tight turtleneck). It's a common response to feeling
you need more air, but I think it would be *exactly* the wrong
thing to do if someone is choking you.
*sigh* Now if I can just find a way to remember that in the midst
of a violent encounter.