Yvonne, over a couple of years, had found many sex sites where she could lust over the wonderful photos and videos that turned her on so much.
Being careful in the utmost not to risk being found out by her husband, she rarely made any input in the way of messages to these sites, and although she initially displayed her photo as an avatar, she soon saw the hazards associated, and removed it in a matter of weeks.
She had very intentionally sought out these pornographic sites, but then, quite by accident, she had stumbled upon a new site that absolutely astounded her – it was dedicated to those kinky people who enjoyed what was generally referred to as ‘sado-masochism.
Looking over the many photos that were displayed on the site, Yvonne’s eyes were really opened to this bizarre form of sex.
Yvonne found herself absolutely fascinated by everything about that site – the amazing photos, the incredibly cruel and bizarre stories, and most of all, the personal messages that people posted.
She was astounded by the gratuitous cruelties that some men offered in their various personal postings, but the even more astounding thing that she found, was the fact that she was so sexually stimulated by it all.

Each day, as soon as her husband was safely out of the way and the children were off to school, Yvonne would eagerly log onto the computer and go straight to this newly discovered site. She would sit reading all of the new postings for the day, and she would imagine fantastic situations in which she was involved.
Many times Yvonne became so very excited that she actually wrote outlandish replies to some of the men’s postings, but she never ever sent them on. She would excite herself with her pretence of answering, but then would quickly erase all of her wild writing.
One particular day, because her cycle had reached ovulation, she was so deliriously worked up that she had to go and fetch her favourite shampoo bottle and work it deliciously into her pussy, as she sat reading the latest bunch of messages.
She was busily reading the ramblings in one particularly exciting posting – a man looking for “a dirty, perverted slut who knows her place in the gutter. A cunt who I can beat and torture to extremes. A slut with few limits who is prepared to totally submit to my sadistic perversions.”
“Oh my God,” Yvonne marvelled, feeling a surge of lust, and working the bottle right up into her pussy.
She read over and over that posting, getting more and more worked up and savouring every word of it.
She decided to play her self teasing little game of pretending to answer. She typed out a reply, but then, as she always did, she simply hit the delete button.
More and more worked up and lustful Yvonne became. Her mind began to think thoughts that she’d never before considered.
Looking at the man’s profile should have warned her to take her game no further; it turned out that he was located not that far from where Yvonne lived, and what she was considering went against her every precaution she’d ever taken in her scrupulous efforts to remain anonymous.
Finally, with hands physically trembling with excitement, she began to type her message. She simply told the truth that she was happily married with a family. She informed the guy that she’d never done anything in this way, but that she was so incredibly excited with what he had written.
Her mind was in a whirl, her lust was surging to deliciously unbearable levels, she very deliberately pressed the send button and then fell to masturbating with her bottle, bringing herself on to the delightful orgasm that had been hovering so close.

The guy who had posted, being in the same time zone, happened to be on line and received the message immediately. He was used to the occasional reply from sluts who just wanted to tease but had no intention of doing anything. This message was different though, it mystified him. Usually the teasing ones went into great detail about how they would submit to his sadistic cruelties, but this one said none of that, it actually sounded genuine, and as such, it hugely aroused him.
He quickly typed a reply, addressing Yvonne as “you dirty slut”, and asking for more detail on what she meant.
A number of messages ensued, and the guy realised that here was a slut who really was genuine, although it seemed so very naive.
Once Yvonne had started on this course, she found that she couldn’t resist pursuing it. She eagerly responded to every message that the guy sent to her.
It was only a matter of days before the arrangement was made to meet at an outdoor cafe in town.
Yvonne, reaching the cafe, draped the pink scarf about her neck as the signal that they’d arranged. She nervously glanced about. It was only relatively early in the morning, and there were only a couple of single men sitting at separate tables. Neither of the men seemed to take much notice of her. She ordered coffee.
The coffee came, and then, once the waitress had moved off, one of the men pushed back his chair, and picking up the book of maps that Yvonne had noticed him studying, he moved the few paces to her side. “Excuse me,” he said politely, “you might be able to help me with this map of the town.”
Momentarily, Yvonne had thrilled at the guy’s approach, but she now realised that he was just a tourist needing information.
He stood close beside her leaning over as he put the folder of maps on the table in front of her. “I’m sure you’ll know how I can get here,” he said as he opened the book at the place his thumb had kept marked.
Yvonne gave a half a gasp and felt her face flush hot. At the page the guy had opened, lay a fabulous photo of a naked girl, tied and hanging half upside down, her breasts bound tightly so that they formed two reddish-purple swollen orbs, and she was at the same time being fucked mouth and pussy by two guys.
Yvonne quickly closed the book in case the waitress or one of the other customers should happen to see. She went to speak but only a whisper came. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Oh yes, I know the place,” she said, her heart pounding and hoping that no one noticed how flushed she no doubt appeared.
“I was sure you would know,” the guy said, picking up the maps. “You wouldn’t happen to be heading that way now?” he asked with a smile.
Yvonne’s heart was racing as they left the cafe together.

He was older than Yvonne – she recalled that his profile had listed him as forty seven, while she was just turned twenty one.
“My God,” the guy whispered as he slipped his arm about her waist, “I wasn’t expecting anyone so young and lovely.”
“How much time do you have?” he continued, “we could go to your place, or book a hotel room, or we could be at my place in half an hour.”
Yvonne knew this was so wrong, she nevertheless whispered in reply, “I have all day, so long as I’m back by four.”
“Shall we drive to my place then,” the guy suggested, obviously tremendously excited. He paused for a second, then added, “that would be the best thing, I’ve all of the equipment we need.”

The guy turned the key in the lock and they entered his house, “by the way,” he said, “my name’s Harry.”
Yvonne thought of how perverted and crude this was, he was going to fuck her and goodness knows what else, and she hadn’t even known his name.”
Inside the house, Harry pulled Yvonne close and kissed her softly and lingeringly on her lips.
Yvonne had to stand on tip toes to reach up to him, she was just five foot two, while he was almost six feet. Her lips parted and she closed her eyes as their lips lovingly enjoyed each other.
As the pair kissed Harry let his hand slide down onto her backside.
Yvonne kissed even more passionately. She was ready to totally give herself to this man.
Harry pulled her tightly against his body and pressed his hard cock against her. She felt the cock press against her and she slightly changed her position so as to have a leg either side of Harry’s and to press her pussy onto his thigh.
“Oh God, you’re so sexy, you little minx,” Harry sighed. His hands fumbling at her dress and beginning to remove it.
“Oh fuck, you’re superb,” Harry lecherously gloated as he looked at Yvonne’s naked body. She was so young, so lovely, so perfect in every way. “Oh fuck,” he continued with great enthusiasm, “I’m going to love abusing and hurting you.”
They began to fuck, then Harry pulled out and put his face down between Yvonne’s spread thighs and began to lick and lap at her so very wet and slippery pussy.
Harry was absolutely thrilled when Yvonne wriggled right around so that they were in the sixty nine position and she began to suck lovingly on his raging cock.
“Ooo, fucking yes,” Harry moaned, “you are the perfect girl.”
They fucked and sucked and felt and fondled, on and on and on. Harry discovered that Yvonne loved to experiment with all sorts of angles and positions, and so he didn’t disappoint her, and added his own variations to their fucking and sucking.
They fucked and fucked, and sucked and licked, they touched and played with each others bodies, deliriously lustful in their mutual greed for carnal pleasure.
The more sexually aroused Harry became, the more degradingly crude his talk became, calling Yvonne a whore, a cunt, a slut, a harlot, a bitch, and many other degrading names.
“You know that I’m really going to punish you for being such a filthy, immoral, little whore,” he told her, savouring each degrading, belittling word that he addressed to her.
Yvonne was busily licking and sucking on Harry’s testicles, and so she merely gave a giggle at Harry’s words as her tongue lapped up and down his large pair of balls that hung between his thighs.
Harry knew that this was the start of what they both wanted. “I’m going to give you a really brutal fucking thrashing you dirty, fucking, whore-cunt,” he gloated sadistically, and he now began to pull Yvonne so as to be laying across his knees.
He raised his hand and brought it down sharply with a stinging slap right onto one cheek of Yvonne’s bum.
“Yoooow,” Yvonne squealed as the stinging pain hurt her.
“I’ll teach you for being such a filthy slut behind your husband’s back,” Harry said, feeling the sadistic side of his nature surging into action.
Again his hand struck her sharply on her ass. Again she cried out in pain and wriggled about on Harry’s knees.
This was what Yvonne had wanted, it hurt her so much but she found that she was incredibly excited by the perversion of this new game.
“You’re a fucking whore aren’t you?” Harry demanded to know, a cruel tone now creeping into his voice.
Yvonne was panting a little, and she gasped out a soft reply of “yes,” eager to play along with this new ignominy to which she was being subjected.
Harry was thrilled to know that Yvonne was a willing partner in this fabulous act of decadence. He’d noted that whatever he’d said to her hadn’t disturbed her in any way, in fact she seemed to like it.
“Fucking whore.” SLAP “Filthy, fucking bitch.” SLAP “Dirty, little trollop.” SLAP
These vicious slaps on Yvonne’s buttocks were as hard as Harry could make them
“Oooow … Yowwwww … Fuck … No … No … Ouuuuuuuch … Stop…” Yvonne squealed and yelled as she kicked her legs and turned and twisted but really never tried to free herself from Harry’s grasp.
“Oh God,” (pant, pant) “Fuck,” (pant, pant) “Oooo, gosh, Harry,” she gasped out between panting breaths after Harry had ceased his onslaught on her now quite red bottom.
“You love this don’t you, you filthy little bitch?” Harry said with a grin.
“Wow, I’m not used to it though,” Yvonne said as she ruefully rubbed her still stinging bottom.
“You’ve never done this before?” he asked her, grinning even more.
“No, I’ve never had anything like this,” Yvonne replied, now grinning as well.
“You like it though?” Harry suggested questioningly.
“Well… ,” Yvonne replied teasingly, “yes I do … I mean it hurts and it’s hard to take, but… ,” and she left the ‘but’ to be interpreted by Harry in whatever way he would.

Harry’s only desire was to hurt Yvonne – to really hurt her badly. He ran his hand through her lovely, soft, silky hair, then, sliding his splayed fingers through it, he formed a fist, grasping her hair enough to pull on her scalp.
Yvonne looked up at him, her face screwed up and showing the pain that Harry was causing. She gave a little whimper. “Suck my cock bitch,” he snapped. Yvonne, on being released from his grasp, immediately took his fabulous hard cock and began sucking lovingly.
Harry looked down at her with his cock disappearing between those lovely sensuous lips. His own lips curled in a cruel sneer. He took a fresh hold of Yvonne’s hair and once more screwed it around until she was tipping her head back in an effort to ease the hurt of her hair being pulled, her face contorted with pain. Her beautiful dark eyes were looking pleadingly, and this served to increase Harry’s desire to hurt her.
Harry’s cock had slid from Yvonne’s mouth now, and it wavered before her face, large and rigid and heavy. With his free hand, Harry took hold of his cock and began to strike Yvonne’s face with it, then, having done this a number of times, he brought his face within inches of Yvonne’s and said in a contemptuous tone, “you love this don’t you bitch.”
Yvonne thought to nod her head but found that with her hair being screwed up in Harry’s fist, she couldn’t move. Tears had welled up in her eyes which made them glisten and appear even more beautiful. She was whimpering with the pain but unhesitatingly replied with a softly spoken “yes” in answer to Harry’s question.
Harry immediately relaxed his grip, grinning triumphantly. “Get across my knee again you fucking dirty little piece of shit,” he snapped.
There was no hesitation on Yvonne’s part. She quickly began to crawl around in order to lay across Harry’s knees. Harry was thrilled to find that she was a willing partner in pursuing this new game, and so eager for it, and so ready to take his verbal abuse as well as physical.
Harry raised his hand, then brought it down hard on the gorgeous, soft, white flesh of Yvonne’s ass. He put great effort into the blow, making it hard and sharp and stinging. It had the desired effect of eliciting a nice, gasping cry of pain.
Again, now on the other cheek, and again a delightful cry of genuine pain with an accompanying waving about of Yvonne’s legs as she lay prostrate across his knees.
Whack. “Owwwwww,” followed by lovely gasping and soft whimpering sounds had Harry’s cock so hard as it shoved upwards onto Yvonne’s belly as she lay across him.
Whack, whack, whack. “Aarrrrrhh,” Yvonne gasped and cried out as she wriggled about in her submissive position, sobbing in anguished, gasping tones that so delightfully showed her suffering, and yet she made no effort to move and save herself from further blows.
Harry spaced out his spiteful blows, he hit her again and again and again, on and on and on, continuing to strike Yvonne, her every troubled gasp, her anguished cries, her tearful sobs all being so wonderfully stimulating to Harry’s perverted mind. With every blow, Yvonne was called a bitch, a cunt, a whore, a disgusting fucking slut who wanted men to hurt and abuse her.

Eventually, with Yvonne getting so frantic with her cries of pain and her wriggling and kicking each time that she was struck, she could take no more and put her hands back to protect her bum from further blows. “Stop, stop,” she cried tearfully.
Harry did stop, disappointed that this fantastic fun should have to pause … He was absolutely thrilled with Yvonne’s submission for so long, and thrilled at the pain and genuine misery that he’d been able to inflict upon her.
Yvonne’s mind was in a turmoil. Her whole being had been filled with pain which robbed her of the ability to think logically and rationally. Every neuron in her brain had poured forth signals telling her to protect herself from what had been happening to her, and yet a perverted, and very definite sexual drive somewhere within her, had told her that it was good to suffer, that it was corrupt, unnatural, debasing and humiliating – things that she enjoyed.
She lay there sobbing through her panting breaths. Her backside was still stinging and sore, and yet, now that the infliction of pain had actually stopped, she rapidly began to regain some composure, and she actually began to regret having stopped Harry from continuing on with his cruel spanking.
“I’ll have to tie you up if you can’t take it voluntarily,” Harry sneered.
Yvonne, regretting that she had stopped Harry, now told him that she was sorry and told him she would try to be good and not stop him again.
“That’s better bitch, you know you’re here to be hurt, not to fuck about with me,” Harry told her as she submissively got back into position over his knees.
Yvonne felt a tremor run through her body. It was all so queer that they both wanted her to be hurt. It was perversion at its most perverse, and she loved perversion. She lowered her head again and awaited Harry’s continued onslaught.
WHACK – the blow came hard and stinging. “Ouuwwwwwwwww,” Yvonne’s cry came shrilly and piteously, long and drawn out with tremulous tones that fully showed the anguish that she experienced.
Whack, whack, whack. Harry’s blows were as hard as he could make them. His powerful arm continually rising and falling as he thrashed Yvonne on and on relentlessly.
Yvonne’s howling cries and her uncontrolled sobbing and wailing were absolutely heartrending and showed her wretchedness as her beating continued unabated.
Harry was out of control now. He heaved Yvonne’s body from off his legs, “come on bitch,” he snarled, “time you were tied up and really fucking flogged. I’ve only been playing with you so far, now you’re going to get flogged until you wish you were fucking dead, you filthy fucking cunt”
“Hold out your arms slut,” he roughly ordered. Yvonne submissively held out her arms and meekly watched as Harry bound cords around each of her wrists.
“Now you get tied up so that I can do whatever I want with you,” Harry told her as he glanced upwards at the roof and looped the cords through an iron hook that protruded from the ceiling…
Yvonne obediently stretched her arms upwards, knowing that this was sheer madness to allow herself to be so tied. She was completely helpless now.
“I’d best gag you I think,” Harry told Yvonne. “We don’t want the neighbours hearing your screaming.”
Yvonne shuddered but said nothing, and moments later Harry tied a piece of cloth through her mouth and around her neck.
Going to a cupboard, Harry selected a long, leather whip. He took a few practise swings with it, the lash swishing through the air in curving loops.
Harry held the whip up before Yvonne’s face to tease her as well as to frighten her, and frightened she was with a look of fear in her eyes.
Yvonne knew that this was going to be horribly painful, and yet her mind was so sexually perverted that she wanted it to happen.
Harry stood back, admiring Yvonne’s nakedness. He moved his arm back and then rapidly bringing it forward, he sent the leather lash sizzling through the air in a horizontal arc towards Yvonne’s trembling body.
The leather impacted Yvonne’s soft flesh with a beautiful sound, and immediately a muffled shriek came from Yvonne as the vicious weapon struck the bottom of her buttocks and curled on around to cruelly bite into her thigh.
Yvonne’s body half turned as the lash struck her, and she jerked violently on the cords holding her arms stretched upwards, her legs moving as if to run, but only lurching her about on the suspending cords.
The muffled shriek of pain had quickly subsided into what Harry interpreted as attempts to plead mercy. He could see Yvonne’s wildly staring eyes with tears already running down her cheeks, and that, along with the muffled “mmffff, mmmmfff” noises of pleading, served to excite Harry tremendously.
Again Harry brought his arm back, ready to savagely lash Yvonne’s body once more. He laughed at the sudden increase in Yvonne’s attempts to speak, and at her frantic lurching about on the cords which held her arms stretched high above her.
Whooosh, the whip sounded as it swept towards its victim. Then the delicious sound of leather thrashing onto soft flesh.
“Mmmmmrrrrrrrpppphhhhh … rrrrrrrhhhhh,” Yvonne’s choked howl of agony came from beneath her gag. She hopped about one or two steps before loosing her footing and lurching and swinging around suspended from her wrists. Her head shook violently from side to side as she continued emitting frantic sounds and wrenched on her bindings in a futile effort to free herself.
Yvonne regained her feet but was unable to stand still as she danced and twisted and turned and pulled this way and that against the cords which she’d so docilely let Harry bind her with.
Each of the two lashes had left pronounced red welts across Yvonne’s ass and thigh, and Harry now began to admire Yvonne’s lovely, unblemished belly. He took aim once more, causing Yvonne to frantically plead and dance about. Whack – his aim was true, thrashing the whip in an angle right across Yvonne’s belly. Her frantic leaping and twisting about as a result of this last blow was absolutely fantastic, so much so that Harry immediately repeated the nasty dose for Yvonne, leaving her howling fabulously in her muffled way, and jumping about like a lunatic.
The way that Yvonne was tied, with her arms stretched so high above her, naturally made her ass stick out, and her breasts to be thrust out deliciously in front of her. Harry next decided to turn his attention to those two, small but deliciously firm, round breasts. The leather lash pounding into them would surely cause her some fantastic pain and misery he gloatingly thought to himself as he once more took aim at his victim’s body.
His aim was perfect, the whip struck right across one nipple and just slightly beneath the other. Yvonne’s body lurched and arched backwards. She once more lost her footing and swung wildly on the cords suspending her from the roof beam. Harry took this opportunity to viciously land three violent blows across Yvonne’s body, the first again targeting her breasts, the second lashing her right around her waist, and the third landing across her belly just above her pubic mound.
Yvonne’s face, formerly so sweet and pretty with always a smile playing about her eyes and mouth, was now screwed up and contorted with pain. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and the tears flowed down her face. Her mouth well gagged, continually emitted what would have been howling screams of pain and suffering.
Yvonne’s brain, dazed with the almost unbearable pain, caused her to wrench furiously at her bindings until the cords began to bite into the flesh of her wrists. She must somehow save herself from this terrible brutality, and yet, somewhere deep within her mentality, was the vague understanding that this was somehow desirable and what she wanted. Indeed, she suddenly realised that she could feel her pussy wet and dribbling its juices down the insides of her thighs.
These vague workings of her brain were dashed from her mind as the leather lash smashed across her body once more, this time coming from behind her, thrashing across from her armpit, down over one breast, and the stinging tip of the belt biting cruelly into her belly.
Hardly a moment’s respite followed before another and another and another blow came flailing across her body, each one from a different direction and angle.
Harry, filled with incredible lust and a burning desire to flog Yvonne to a pulp, lost all control and began to rein blows all over her body, not concerned with how or where they landed, just so long as they hit her with maximum force and caused her maximum pain and suffering.
Yvonne’s mind was reeling. She felt each lash as an incredible, burning, stinging, agonisingly sharp pain. Her mind began to experience a certain dullness. The pain continued on and on relentlessly, then her mind entered a world of black unknowingness as she lost consciousness.
Harry, in his sadistic frenzy, continued to lash and lash and lash the now silent, swinging body. He’d immediately realised that Yvonne’s moans and cries and frantic lurching about had ceased., but he cared not and he just kept flogging the body for all he was worth. After some time he dropped his arm and stepped up to the lifeless body. He grasped a handful of hair, and lifted her head. The whites of Yvonne’s eyes showed, but then her pupils half appeared and he could see that there was some sort of semi-consciousness there.
For a fleeting moment Harry had thought that perhaps she were dead and he had killed her, but now he saw that she’d only succumbed to his flogging, unable to stand the intolerable pain.
Harry hesitated. He really wanted to keep flogging her, but perhaps he should let her recover. He took a knife and cut through the cords that suspended her body from the roof beam.

The cord being cut, Yvonne’s body fell with a dull thud onto the floor where she lay contorted like a rag doll thrown down when no longer needed.
Harry was hot and sweating from the exertion of beating Yvonne. He left her where she lay, and went to get himself a drink.
Yvonne lay there for some minutes, her consciousness slowly returning. She tried to stand but found herself so stiff and sore that she barely could. She made it to the door, but then met with Harry who was just returning to see what condition she was in. He grabbed her up in his arms and hugged and kissed her passionately. “Fuck, you are so fucking magnificent,” he told her admiringly.
Yvonne had thought that they were finished with their games, but Harry eagerly asked, “what would you like to do now? “How would you like to be hung,” he asked, grinning and giving a wicked chuckle.
“How hung?” Yvonne asked, imagining being suspended by her arms or maybe by all fours.
“Hung by the neck and slowly strangled,” Harry chuckled with great excitement. Than seeing Yvonne’s alarm and amazement, he qualified his suggestion. “I don’t mean to actually hang you until you’re dead,” he explained, “just until you’re nearing death.”
“Gosh Harry,” Yvonne gasped in amazement. “Would it be safe?” She found such a suggestion so absolutely bizarre, but she also felt her sexuality very definitely aroused by the idea of such an incredibly perverted idea.
Harry, seeing that Yvonne might actually be considering submitting to such a thing, eagerly explained that he had prepared a thick, but soft rope by plaiting many strands of cloth together. “It won’t abrade your neck, and we’ll get it right up under the chin and lower you onto it easily so that it tightens up and chokes you slowly, just letting you draw in a tiny bit of air.”
“My God, Harry, that is such a perverted idea,” Yvonne said as she found herself feeling more and more aroused by such an incredible notion.
Now Harry led Yvonne out of the bedroom, along a short passage and into the garage which was built in as a part of the house. He excitedly went to a cupboard and took out the rope, already tied into a hangman’s noose. Yvonne felt the plaited cloth rope, and then Harry said, “here, try it around your neck to see how you like it.”
Yvonne bobbed down to allow Harry to slip the noose over her head and down around her neck. He clasped the knot in one hand and pulled on the rope so that it tightened firmly onto Yvonne’s neck right up under her chin. She found that, while her breathing was restricted, she could still get a little air, although she knew that with the weight of her body hanging on the rope, it would tighten even more. She felt her lust steaming within her at the thought of willingly doing this and putting her life at the whim of this man who openly flaunted his sadistic nature.
“I think you’d like this baby,” Harry excitedly suggested, more in hope than with any conviction, “I think that you’re a perverted enough slut to want to do something like this.”
Harry’s words excited Yvonne tremendously, and she lustfully urged herself to do it. “Oh God, Harry, it would be so incredibly perverted. How long would you let me hang for?” she whispered in a tiny, scared, but excited voice.
Even though Harry had prepared the rope and noose, and had thought endlessly about doing such a thing, he had never really believed that any woman would ever actually agree to do it, but now, here was a slut who really wanted it.
Harry dragged a box, some two feet high, out from the wall and placed it beneath one of the roof trusses. He then opened a step ladder and positioned it alongside the box. “C’mon baby, you want to do this,” he said as he took Yvonne’s hand. She allowed herself to be led forward and she took the step up onto the box. She hadn’t actually said the words that she would do it, but it was now understood between them that she wanted to be strangled.
Harry mounted the step ladder and took the rope of the noose which was still around Yvonne’s neck. He tossed it over the roof truss and pulled it up until it had tightened considerably more around her neck and was causing her to stretch out, pulling her chin upwards and tilting her head backwards. He then securely tied the rope to the beam.
Climbing down the ladder, he moved it away and took up a piece of cord. “Hand’s behind your back slut, so that I can tie them,” he told his victim. Yvonne readily complied, putting her hands behind her back and holding them together so that they could be firmly tied. Every willing action that she performed – allowing the noose to be placed around her neck, stepping up onto the box, and now letting her hands be tied behind her back, sent huge lustful sensations through every part of her mind and her body. She felt so fantastically sexy.
“God, you look so fucking beautiful like this – so fucking pervertedly sexy,” Harry groaned lustfully as he stood back to look at Yvonne, naked, standing on the box with the noose already stretching her as she awaited her hanging.
Yvonne could say nothing in reply. The rope, pulling right up beneath her chin, prevented any sound and she was already struggling to breathe sufficiently. Her head was tipped right back and all she could see was the ceiling. She felt so beautifully perverted. She felt Harry’s arms about her and felt him take up her weight. She heard the clatter of the box being kicked out from beneath her feet. She felt Harry slowly begin to release her and she felt the noose tightening more and more about her throat. She felt her neck being stretched. Harry had now let her go and she hung from her neck, the weight of her body dragging at her neck and beginning to strangle her as she slowly swung and rotated.
Yvonne could feel her mouth gaping open and her tongue protruding, but she had no control over either. Her body and mind screamed for air, she could take none in through her mouth, the only tiny bit she could get into her lungs was through her nostrils, and even then it was barely any. She could feel her eyes beginning to bulge. Her neck felt like it would break.
Her brain was screaming for air but through it all she felt her senses surging with lust. She thought she could feel little rivulets of her pussy juices dribbling down the insides of her thighs.
Her legs involuntarily began kicking as her body shrieked for air, this sent her swaying and spinning slowly around and around, and tended to even more tighten the noose about her neck
She could hear Harry’s voice somewhere, calling her “a filthy slut and a whore,” she thought that she heard him saying something about her dying.
Over time, as she hung there, swaying and slowly spinning around, she gradually lost any sensation of having a body, her vision was now blurred and Harry’s voice was more like a message inside her brain than of any actual sound, although she still could distinguish between her own thoughts and Harry’s.
Somewhere amongst Harry’s words she head him saying “five minutes.” She struggled to have some sort of logical thoughts, what did he mean by this, did he mean that he would keep her hanging for five minutes? She gave up trying to think, it was all too hard. Every one of her bodily senses screamed fear and terror and anguish.
Nothingness for some indeterminate time, then her brain somehow worked. She realised that she had lost consciousness, she was surprised to realise that she was still alive.
Some sort of sensations came from her body, she thought that maybe it was Harry doing something to her pussy. She was filled with love for him and felt her lustfulness, which had subsided, rise again to great heights, she felt like she was verging on orgasm – is that what death does to you, or was it Harry working on her almost lifeless body.
She was sure that she heard Harry saying something about twenty minutes and death.

At first it was sound that registered vaguely in Yvonne’s brain, then after some time she became aware of light. Slowly, slowly her brain became active, and she began to awaken.
She lay there motionless for a considerable time. The remembrance of all that had happened slowly returned.
Her body ached all over, and dull throbbing pain added to her terrible headache.
Eventually she ran a hand over her body and the pain she experienced increased tenfold as her hand encountered something.
Looking down, she gasped and felt tears rise to her eyes. What she saw was two serrated edge kitchen knives penetrating right through each of her small breasts, the smears of dried blood all over her body.
She tried to sit up on the bed but something poked at her sore, aching pussy. She realised there was a plastic drink bottle up inside her pussy and another deeply embedded up her backside. She gingerly pulled them both out, causing herself considerable pain.
Her crying whimpers alerted Harry that she had regained consciousness, and he came into the room, interested to see just what sort of condition she was in and whether she’d suffered any noticeable brain damage from her slow strangulation which had gone on for almost three quarters of an hour. He hadn’t really been sure whether she would actually survive, but seeing that she had, he was pleased that he wouldn’t have the annoyance of needing to dispose of her body.
She was weeping softly as she lay there, but seeing Harry enter, she gave a wan smile and said, “I’m still alive.”
Harry grinned at her. “So I see. I wasn’t sure whether you would survive or not.” He then began to quiz her up as to how she felt, and then of more interest to him, what her thoughts and feelings had been while she was being hung.
After lots of talk, during which Yvonne actually began to experience lustful feelings in spite of her aches and pains, Harry helped her off the bed and, being the only way to do it, wrenched the two knives from her breasts. A process which sent Yvonne screaming frenziedly before fainting with the pain of it.
She recovered in a moment and Harry gloatingly told her how her whole body had twitched and quivered and jumped when he’d first driven the two knives slowly through the flesh of her breasts.

Being cleaned up, plied with strong coffee, a little food, and some strong pain killers, Yvonne began to recover somewhat. Harry told her how long she had hung suspended, and how she must have been quite close to death. “Oh God, what fantastic perversion that was,” Yvonne marvelled, and she lovingly took hold of Harry’s hands. Her entire body ached, and hurt even more with each movement that she made. Her head still ached and she felt more exhausted and weary than she ever had in her entire life, and yet she felt an overwhelming satisfaction with what they had done together.
Suddenly she noticed the time on the clock, and realised that she needed to get back home. She would need to feign some sort of illness in order to hide her condition from her husband.

Reaching their destination, Yvonne painfully alighted. Harry wondered whether he would ever see her again, given what he had done to her.
But then Yvonne was saying to him, “I’ll message you tomorrow and we can make plans.”

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