XPost: soc.subculture.bondage-bdsm.femdom

from
http://houseofgaspers.com/index2.html

and then
Damien's Story Fair - Entrance
is at
https://www.nyx.net/~anon3a9c/fair/entry.ssi

I have doubts you can get here without going through check, https://www.nyx.net/~anon3a9c/nfair/felman/ftime.htm

My First Times
by Ali

As part of my punishment for my auto-erotic hanging indiscretion Lee has
me doing at least three more of these first hand experiences. Tonight he suggested I write about how I found that hanging is my ultimate turn-on.

I'm different from most of the women I've met in the hanging scene. The
vast majority of these are either submissives or masochists who were
introduced to erotic hanging after they had been in their scene for some
time, by a lover or master. For the longest time I was the only one I
could find who actually had been turned on by hanging before being
introduced to the SM/BD scene.

I had a fairly normal if slightly repressive childhood. I was blissfully unaware of the entire aspect of sex until it became the one only thing
to talk about in school. Most of it misinformation. I tried masturbation seriously when I turned 13 but either I couldn't reach orgasm or the end
result seemed somehow weak compared to what the rumor mill had said it
would be.

At thirteen I was tall for my age. Not heavy or skinny. It would be a
full year before my bust would explode. (It's a 38 DD now and I'd settle
for a 36C). My summer was spent in the community, at the local park and
at my cousins' place. It was popular because of the large pool and pool
house where we could all hang out.

We were at the age when there was little acting out sexually at our
ages. A little flirting and a lot of giggling, but nothing overt. We did
play a lot of games in and out of the pool. A lot of them were war
games. Remember it was just after the Korean war and World War II was
still on everyone's mind so we had all sorts of games.

My defining moment came when I was a spy scoping out the enemy's
headquarters in the poolhouse. Our headquarters were next door. I was
skulking around trying to hear what my three male cousins were planning.

I remember every last detail. I was wearing a short sleeved button front blouse, short tight denim shorts and black low heeled slip-ons. I wore
my hair cut short that summer due to the heat.

The guys had all sorts of diagrams for their plans they'd been working
on spread out on the table. When they went to the house to get a Coke I
decided the time was right. They would never expect me to steal their
plans. It just wasn't done.

I heard them leave and waited a minute or so then snuck in. The table
was in the back and there was junk all over. The windows were covered by
old venetian blinds which were partially closed. I got to the table and
stated picking up all their papers when I heard the door slam.

Not only were my three male cousins back but my two female cousins were
with them. I had been caught! One of them had seen me sneak in. I looked
around for a way out but there was only one door.

They debated what to do with me. As a captured spy I couldn't be
released without some reciprocity and we had none of them as prisoners.
My cousin Jean grabbed some rope from a pile and three of them held me
while I kicked and struggled as she tied my wrists behind my back.
Totally flustered and frustrated I sat on a chair and watched them plan
their attack. Water balloons. Dozens of them. My friends were in for a
very wet attack.

"What do we do with her?", Jean asked pointing to me. "We can't just
leave her here. She'll escape. And there's no place to lock her up."

"We could tie her ankles and gag her," Marsha suggested.

I started to protest vehemently having no desire to spend the afternoon
bound and gagged.

"I have an idea", Billy said, "Lets have her stand on this stool".

There was an 18" milking stool next to the window. Again I struggled but
they muscled me up so I was standing on it. He pulled over a box so he
was at the same height.

Each of the venetian blinds had strong quarter inch line that was used
to adjust their height. This ended in a loop so it could be easily
grabbed. Before I knew it he had fitted the loop over my head and
cinched it around my throat.

"There", he said in triumph. "She can't go anywhere. If she steps off
the stool she'll hang herself. We can leave her alone now."

Jean and Marsha both looked dubious and I tried to sway them with my
pleas and promises to not run away, but the three boys convinced them I
would be all right so off they went.

I yelled and called after them but to no avail. Finally I just took
stock of my situation. My wrists were snugly tied behind me. The stool
was sturdy. The loop of cord had a little play in it but not much. I was
in no danger if I just stood there. My only hope was that one of my team
would find me and release me before they came back.

As if in answer to my prayer, I heard the door push open.

It was only Winter, my cousin's huge friendly white samoyed. He was
obviously looking for me since we were good friends and he heard me
yelling. I called to him and he came over smiling at me.

Then disaster struck.

As was his way, Winter jumped up for a cuddle...bouncing into me
unprepared and knocking the stool and me over!

I dropped a few inches before the loop of cord jerked tight around my
neck sending a shock through my whole body. I found myself hanging by my
neck a good foot off the ground. The cord was thin and bit in deeply
cutting off my breath. Terrified I tried desperately to get my wrists
free but with no results. I began to kick trying to get back on the
stool, only succeeding in kicking it much farther from me and sending
both my shoes flying off. The lack of oxygen quickly made me light
headed and my vision started turning red. I realized later that I
succumbed so quickly because the thinness of the cord had allowed it to
bite down deeper and quicker and close off my breathing and circulation.

To my amazement I felt a surge beginning in my groin as my lungs seemed
to burst in agony. My last experience was a thundering orgasm and
then... blackness.

I awoke in the emergency room with a very sore throat, splitting
headache, bloody wrists and a nasty rope burn on my neck. Apparently it
was Winter who saved me. His barking and howling brought one of the
neighbors who found me bound and hanging and cut me down. The doctor
estimated that I couldn't have been hanging more than a few minutes
since I hadn't lost bowel and bladder control.

My cousins were all in terrible trouble but I stayed overnight in the
hospital. Late that night I thought again of the sensation of being
bound and helpless hanging there and the remarkable orgasm that I knew I
would have to experience again. I was hooked!

I was forbidden to play with my cousins from then on and became a bit of
a loner. The rope burn around me neck took weeks to heal so I watched TV
and read. It was during that time that I remember seeing an episode of
Peter Gunn that desperately turned me on. It was called "The Chinese
Hangman" and there was a very pretty blond girl that Peter Gunn fell in
love with. When he goes to her apartment he finds her hanged. He
carefully puts the stool beneath her and finds her stockinged feet
dangle a good 5 to 6 inches off its surface.

My fantasies became entwined with hanging and bondage. I read "The
Hunchback Of Notre Dame" and imagined what it would have been like to be Esmeralda bound and hanging on the public gallows, kicking for all the
world to see, dying in agony, but secretly having the most immense
orgasm ever experienced!

I found an illustrated edition of "The Three Musketeers" that had a
beautiful lithograph of Lady DeWinter being hanged by her husband, bound
hand and foot, breasts exposed, that almost made me faint.

I hunted the libraries for information on public hangings and suicides
but found little.

I was sure I didn't want to die, but there had to be some way of
replicating that intense experience.

I experimented with soft materials such as scarves and nylon stockings
but all of them would leave a mark and I was terrified of actually
hanging again. I tried choking myself but that just didn't work. There
was something about hanging the re bound and helpless, slowly strangling
at the end of a rope that was inexplicable.

I found a pair of play cufflinks in a toy store and hatched a plan. They
would give just enough sensation of being bound but still allow me to
get loose. I decided to try a "safe" hanging.

I waited for my Mom to go shopping while Dad was at work. I took off my
clothes and put on my pleated skirt and best rayon blouse. I didn't
bother with underwear. Just the feeling of not wearing panties under my
skirt made me tingle. I got a pair of my mothers good seamed nylons in a
dark brown directly out of the box and put them on. They were a little
large and wouldn't stay up, but they felt wonderful on my legs and the
feel of the nylon rubbing back and forth made me feel sexy. Since all my
mother wore were panty girdles which looked yucky, I used a couple of
rubber bands as garters.

I used my mothers makeup to inexpertly put on mascara, liner, and
lipstick, and brushed my blond hair out. Now I was dressed like that
beautiful blond lady in the Peter Gunn episode.

Next I got a hand towel from the bathroom and my mother's longest silk
scarf.

I took all these down to the basement where we had a bunch of exposed
pipes on the ceiling. I got a milk cartoon and turned it upside down
below the thickest pipe. I carefully wrapped the towel around my neck
holding it in place by tying the scarf around my neck behind my right
ear. I pulled the scarf over the pipe until it felt snug around my neck
and tied it off. Next I took the handcuffs and snapped them on one
wrist. They had a plastic key but there was also a button you could push
to release them. I snapped them on the other wrist behind me.

Now I stood there and began to feel the excitement grow. I was bound and
noosed and about to be hanged. The large Chinese man was going to kick
over the box and leave me dangling! I felt the glow in my groin and
became ever more excited.

I moved to the end of the box and experimentally tried to reach the
floor. I got less than halfway before the scarf tightened to the point
that it pushed my head over on the side. The feeling of it cutting off
my circulation and breath was enough to start the wonderful glow
coursing through me body. I experimented a half dozen times more feeling
more and more sexy closer and closer to orgasm.

I knew I wanted to step off the box, have my orgasm and step back on but
I had to be careful not to kick the box away.

With infinite care I stepped off with my right foot...then my left. I
was hanging! All the sensations I longed for were there. The
helplessness of being bound. The feeling of the noose cutting off my air
and the pounding of my pulse in my ears as my circulation was impaired.
But more than that, the building orgasm threatening to tear me apart. I
waited and waited, willing myself not to kick and push the box away,
waiting for the orgasm to crest. Finally, unfulfilled I stepped back up.
My head was pounding and my breath hoarse. I felt like my head was a
giant balloon, but I had come so close.

I stood there a few more minutes until I felt close to normal and tried
it again. This time I stayed on the noose longer and almost came, but
the graying of my vision and my aching lungs forced me to step back up.

Again I waited and fretted. Even with the towel I was sure I would end
up with rope burns again. But I was so close I had to try one more time.
I took a deep breath and stepped off for the third time.

This time it felt like I was almost floating, weightless. I could still
feel the discomfort from the noose, my lungs aching for air, the
pounding in my ears, but as I hanged there I knew it would happen. And
this time it did! I was filled with an overwhelming, crashing ,
thunderous orgasm, which ebbed delightfully into darkness.

I awoke on the floor. I had passed out and hanged there until the scarf
had frayed and finally parted, sending me crashing into a pile of
cardboard boxes filled with old linens. These had luckfully cushioned my
fall.

My head was aching and my throat was sore, but my entire body was
tingling. I released my wrists from the handcuffs and found that I had
cum so hard that the front of my skirt was soaked. It was so wet I
thought at first that I had peed myself.

As my daze wore off I realized just how fortunate I was. If the scarf
had not parted I would have strangled to death. I could just imagine my
mother finding my hanging body wearing her good nylons, handcuffed and
dangling by her scarf from that pipe.

I immediately resolved never to do something stupid like that again. Unfortunately I was hooked. As bad as any drug addict!

My resolve lasted for a long time. The desire was there but I buried it throwing myself into my school work.

I still avidly went to see and movie or watched any TV show with a
hanging in it. And as I went through High School continued to read all I
could about executions and suicide hanging.

My resolve finally broke in my Junior year. My romances in High School
were less than perfect. I was tall, almost 5' 8". In heels that put me
at close to six feet. My breasts had grown so this made me popular. And
I guess I should admit that most of the guys considered me very pretty
and, yes, all the girls hated me. My boyfriend Rex was a jock and a
jerk. We made out in his car and his hands were always all over me. But
there was no thought of going all the way. So I was more and more
frustrated. You see, ever since that day in the basement I had not been
able to orgasm. Masturbation didn't do it. Even fantasizing of hanging
just brought me close. I tried some simple strangulation and asphyxia
using plastic bags but nothing worked. Finally one Sunday afternoon I
had had enough. I was distracted to the point that I couldn't study for
my geometry final. With my parents out of the house I decided to try
another "safe" hanging.

I had now seen dozens off hanging scenes in movies and read countless
accounts of hangings in fact and fiction. Three books stood out in my
mind, as much for the lurid covers as their content. The first was "I'll
Bury My Dead", by James Hadley Chase. It's cover featured a beautiful
brunette from the bust up hanged over a door by a red scarf. The second
was "The Deeds of Dr. Deadcert", by Joan Fleming. This featured another
lovely brunette, in an empire waisted nightgown being hanged by a man
with a rope. The last was the best. It was called "Turn Blue You
Murderers" by Michael Brett and on its cover was a photo of a pretty
nude girl hanging from a clothes bar in a closet by a belt.

The last was the basis of my current fantasy. This time I didn't bother
with clothes but stripped completely nude. I was still drawn to a pair
of stockings from my first time and had secreted away a box of my
mothers old black seamed stockings before she threw them out, since now
we only wore pantyhose. I knew that one day I would want to put them on
but also knew that rubber bands and panty girdles were not going to
work, so I had found a black garter belt at a thrift store for a quarter
and this was hidden away too.

Putting on the garter belt was easy. Getting the black seamed stockings
on so the seams were relatively straight was a real problem. This was
obviously a learned skill. Still after a few tries they were on and
snugly gartered. I admired myself in the mirror. They were old fashioned
but felt so different from pantyhose and so sexy.

This time I was better prepared. I had made a space in my closet and
instead of a box or stool I had made a pile of books, three of them.
They each were very thick and the pile was a good 8 to 10 inches tall.

My first experience had taught me that the towel was the right padding
since I had hanged myself and suffered no friction burns on my neck so I
used it again. But this time, instead of a scarf I used the thick belt
from my velour robe.

So there I was, ready to hang myself in my closet wearing nothing but a
garter belt and stockings and it dawned on me that I hadn't thought
about how to bind my wrists. I solved this with the canvass belt from my
old girl scout uniform (Only reason I joined the scouts was to learn how
to tie a hangman's noose but it wasn't taught in our knot class. I had
to learn for myself).

I started by standing on the books and assuring they were sturdy. By
perching on my stockinged toes the back of my neck was just a little
under the clothes bar. I slipped the velour belt around my throat and
over the bar then back down and tied it snugly in front. I was now
cinched up tight enough that I couldn't rest on my heels at all. I put
my wrists behind me and looped the closed belt around them taking up the
slack with one hand while holding it with the other. I got it fairly
tight. Just tight enough for the sensation but reasonably sure I could
wiggle free. Then I took stock.

I had closed the door to the closet and turned on the light. Across from
me was my full length door mirror. The image I saw was a lovely blond
girl with full breasts, slim waist, and long legs, clad in a garter belt
and black seamed nylons, wrists bound behind her, up on her toes noosed
to the clothes bar.

I immediately felt my orgasm begin to build. As it began to crest I slid
my toes off the books so they pointed down on either side. The belt gave
a little so I dropped an inch or so, but I was definitely hanging a good
six inches off the floor. All the familiar sensations cascaded in and I
was rewarded with a massive orgasm that shook me to the core.

Utterly spent I stepped back on the books. I was shocked I couldn't have
been hanging for more than a few seconds and I had had a massive orgasm.

Back on the books the belt had loosened and I was relatively comfortable
again.

I stood there on my toes and took stock again. Was it that easy?

I resolved to wait a few minutes and try it again.

This time, as I slid off the books I watched myself in the mirror. The
way my neck lengthened, the strain the noose put on my upper shoulders.
How hard my nipples were. The gleam of cum on my pubic hairs and how
long and sexy my legs looked in those garters and black nylons.

It took much longer this time. By the time the orgasm came I was light
headed, but it was the equal of the first. I stepped back up on the
books and breathed deep.

This whole thing had taken less than an hour from the time I decided to
try it. And the orgasms were wonderful!

A part of me said that two was enough but a stronger part wanted at
least one more. I waited a few minutes for my head to clear and stepped
off again.

I watched myself closely for as long as I could. The orgasm was even
slower to build the third time and I felt that familiar floating
sensation along with the desperate need to catch my breath. As my vision started to dim finally I had a thundering orgasm, far more powerful than
either of the first two.

Languidly I brought my toes back up on the books and started to take the pressure off my now very sore and abused neck when there was a sudden
loud cracking noise.

The next thing I knew I came crashing forward and was sideways on the
floor. The clothes bar had pulled away from all its supports. It was
fortunate that I hadn't latched the closet door or else I would have
smashed into the mirror and probably ended up with thousands of cuts,
not to mention brain damage. As it was, I had a very sore shoulder and
hip from where I hit. My head hurt. My throat was sore, but that
electric tingle still coursed through my body.

I knew for sure that I would have to hang again if I wanted that intense
an orgasm again. I made plans for my next hanging when my parents would
be out of town next week.

During the week I found a store that had all sorts of police gear and
bought an expensive pair of handcuffs. The owner looked at me with a
leer but I ignored him and paid cash.

Next I decided to find the perfect rope because this time I knew I would
have to try an actual hangman's noose. Just the thought of it cinching
around my neck made my nipples hard.

The yellow pages, under rope, indicated that there was a store in the
marina that specialized in all forms of lines, ropes and hawsers. There
was the first time I found the beautiful thick yacht braid. It took most
all my available cash but I bought 20 feet of one inch soft braid. The
man at the store was kind enough to wrap the ends for me. I was as ready
as any prospective hanging victim could be.

Finally I stopped at our local hardware store and bought a screw-in
hook. The kind that's used to hang plants. The man there showed me how
to use a screwdriver to muscle it in after it was started.

I had what I thought was the perfect plan. I would tie the rope to the
hook using a slip knot (the old girlscout training again) and when I had
had enough, jerk it loose.

All week I practiced tying slip knots and jerking them free. I was sure
I had it down.

That weekend I passed up a visit of my aunt. And as soon as I was sure
my parent s were long gone began my preparations in earnest.

First I went down to the basement and, standing on the three legged
stool I would use for my hanging, screwed the hook into an overhead
beam. Next I took a long bath and brushed my hair carefully, tying it in
a pony tail behind me so there was no chance a stray strand would foul
the noose. I indulged myself in a full and long makeup session topping
it off with a sinfully Marilyn Monroe red lipstick.

Now I was completely nude and it was time to don my lingerie. I was
little dubious of my garterbelt. It was beginning to see better days. I promised myself that I would treat myself to a new an sexier one soon.
Then on with those silky smooth black seamed nylons. I had been
practicing and it only took me two tries to get the seams straight.

Now I got all my goodies together and retired to the basement for some
serious rope dancing. I was incredibly excited. For the first time I
could kick and struggle as much as I wanted and not worry about tipping
over the stool because I wouldn't be needing it.

I started by tying the one inch yacht braid into a traditional thirteen
turn hangman's noose. By all rights I should have lubricated the rope
but I wasn't going to use a drop so and wasn't interested in it cinching
down too quickly. Next I put an old full length mirror across from me so
I could have the thrill of watching myself hang.

Before mounting the stool I snapped the handcuffs on my left wrist,
careful to make sure the key was in the lock. The spare key I tucked
into the band of my garter belt behind me.

I climbed up on the stool and looped the rope over the hook about 18
inches above me. Then I had the most incredibly exciting time dropping
the noose over my head and cinching it down. I had read a number of
conflicting articles on where the knot should be placed but to me it
sounded like behind the right ear was correct.

I grasped the free end and took up the slack. The noose was very heavy
and as it tightened I felt it tip my head to the left. Once I had all
the slack out I debated standing on my toes. I decided it was the only
way I could be sure there would be virtually no drop so I pulled myself
up on tiptoe. Satisfied that I could go no further I tied the rope to
the hook with a slip knot, drawing the loop down so it wouldn't take
more than a six inch tug to loosen it.

Taking a deep shuddering breath I put my wrists behind me and snapped
the handcuffs on my wrists. The first thing I did was check the keys and
be sure I could get to them. Then I felt behind me and grabbed the rope.
This firmly in hand I was ready.

I knew I was taking quite a chance using a hangman's noose. There was
the chance that it would tighten too tightly and even though I could get
the rope to release, it could strangle me before I could get my hands
free and loosen it. My experiments gave me confidence that this wouldn't happen. I had fashioned the knot so it wouldn't cinch down and this gave
me a measure of safety.

Now I was ready. Again I looked at the pretty girl in the mirror, nude
but for her black garter belt and stockings, noosed and ready for
execution. My nipples were so hard they felt like they would burst and I
could feel the fluids leaking from my vagina.

I took a deep breath and kicked the stool away.

Immediately I realized I had made a serious mistake. In my hurry I had
forgot the padding for my neck! As the noose bit in I realized to my
dismay that I would have a serious rope burn to contend with. I
considered releasing myself right then but realized that the worst has
already been done so I might as well enjoy the ride.

I felt weightless and free as I kicked on the rope. I had never been
able to dance and spin the way I dangled that day. I scissored my legs
then dropped them straight down, luxuriating in the knowledge that my stockinged toes twisted a good 18" off the floor.

As my breath gave out and my pulse started to pound in my ears I felt my
orgasm begin to rise. I was a helpless bound and naked slut dangling on
the gallows for all the world to see, naked and cumming, unashamed of
her agony and suffering. Then a huge orgasm ripped through me and I
dangled limply.

Utterly spent I grasped the rope firmly with both hands and tugged.
Nothing! No give whatsoever!! This was impossible. I had tied and
released the slip knot 20 times over the last week.

As I began to gray out I kicked desperately and tugged with all my might
on the rope but to no avail. I felt the tears on my cheeks and felt the
noose push my head further and further to the left as it tightened down
choking the last ebb of life from my desperately kicking body. Finally
my hands lost strength and my last thought, as everything turned red,
was why?

Again I awoke on the floor. This time my head pounded so badly I thought
it would split. I could barely breath! Then I realized this was because
the noose was still tightly cinched around my throat. For a short while
I desperately fought to get my wrists free. Then I remembered the key
and thankfully found it still in the lock. It took me six attempts to
turn it. Something I had done first time out previously.

My wrists free I tore the noose loose and sat there sobbing. I was lying
in a pool of my own fluids. I had no idea how long I hanged but it was
long enough to lose control. I looked up at the hook. That was what had
saved me. My weight kicking and struggling had finally loosed it and had
pulled it from the beam. I guess I hadn't tightened it, thank God. as
much as I thought.

I dazedly checked the slipknot. There had just been too much weight on
it and I wasn't strong enough to pull it through. That mistake had
almost killed me!

I dragged my self to the mirror. My entire left side. where I fell was
sore. But that wasn't the worst part. My face looked like I had a
sunburn! I later found out that the slow strangulation from the noose
had burst 100's of blood vessels in the skin. My eyes were horribly
bloodshot. Worst of all I had a bright red rope burn one inch wide all
around my neck. On top of that I had run my beautiful black nylons in a
dozen places completely ruining them.

A week or two of scarves, heavy makeup, sunglasses and anything else I
could do to hide myself followed. I forswore hangings until I could make
them safe.

I read voraciously and came across the phenomena of auto-erotic asphyxia
and realized that this was close to my obsession. I also realized that psychology couldn't be right because it supposedly only happened in men
and boys and transvestites at that.

In college I took abnormal psych classes and researched every item on
erotic hanging and auto erotic asphyxia in the vast library archives.
Finally I found three references to women who had been auto-erotic
hanging victims. I was not alone!

I have other experiences, prior to meeting Lee, which may be of interest
but this is long enough as is, so they will wait for another time.


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