Feature Writer: Darker Side
Feature Title: The Picture {Darker Side}
Story Codes: MF bd sc hanging snuff)
Summary: An erotic picture elicits an unexpected response
Copyright: 2014 all rights reserved. You may freely distribute this work through any medium so long as you charge nothing beyond duplication costs. But if you profit, I want a cut.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction depicting no person living or dead. It should not be read by any person under the age of 18, nor by any person offended by descriptions of sex, nudity, bondage, or murder by hanging. If you’re not in any of those categories, then enjoy. Scroll down to begin reading.


The Picture

Carol found the picture at the back of her mother’s photo album, discreetly placed in a manila envelope. Carol was shocked.

The picture showed a naked young woman standing in elaborate bondage. Her wrists were tightly trussed behind her with several strands of rope around her waist and below her breasts. An additional rope, wrapped around her body above her breasts, pinioned her upper arms to her sides. Two more strands went from her waist in back, down through her groin, and back up between her breasts, there to separate and go over each shoulder back down to her waist.

It was a slender waist, and above it were full, round breasts, high and firm, but with slight folds underneath giving them a lovely teardrop shape. Large, dark pink, erect nipples were set in well-defined areolae one inch in diameter. Her long, well-formed legs terminated in small, narrow feet with long, slim toes planted on a low coffee table. Her toenails were lacquered a bright red.

She was a brunette with straight, shoulder-length hair. She had an oval face with a high forehead and a strong chin. Her straight nose was narrow at the bridge with slightly flared nostrils. The girl looked a lot like Carol herself.

The girl’s generous mouth with full lips was slightly open as if she was gasping. There was a reason for that. Her large, dark eyes were looking down, in terror and fascination, as someone was snugging down a hangman’s noose of thick rope around her neck. The young woman was being prepared to be hanged.

Carol found the picture extremely disturbing, not only because of the subject matter and the resemblance to herself, but also because of her reaction to it. She was repulsed, but at the same time she found it erotic, and she felt a tingling in her own groin. She couldn’t ignore and forget the image.

She took the picture with her into her mother’s bedroom. Alice Lang lay in bed, her wasted body obviously nearing death. Carol approached her mother uncertainly. “Mom, what’s this,” she asked, showing Alice the picture.

“Oh, I guess I should have gotten rid of that. I guess it’s what they call ‘snuff porn,’ Baby.”

“But what are you doing with it?”

“Well, I cut it out of an old magazine I found in a used book store. Fact is, it turned me on.”


“Oh, come on, Carol. Lots of people enjoy images like this, and not just men. I wanted to look like that girl, and I talked your father into tying me up like that.”

Carol stared at her mother in shock. “Quit looking at me like that. I don’t have time to play Miss Priss. Yes, your father and I had a pretty damn good sex life, and we even got into a little light bondage. He wouldn’t do it very often, though. And I only got him to noose me just once.”

“But why, Mom? I just don’t get it.”

“Well, either you feel it or you don’t. But just being bound like that causes fear—it’s a feeling of complete helplessness—that somehow turned me on. I mean, I trusted your father with good reason, but still, to be completely at his mercy—well, when he had his way with me, I just came like a freight train.”

“And Dad? How did he feel?”

“Oh, he loved it. Deep down I think most men love to have a female completely helpless and in their power. They enjoy our fear and distress. And I think that’s why Henry only did it a few times. He feared himself—what it could lead to.”

“But why do they?”

“Who knows? But the threatened, suffering female is such a potent theme throughout history. From sacrificing virgins to executing female Christian martyrs. I mean snuff art goes way back. Look at a lot of classic paintings, including religious art.

“But it isn’t only men who dig it. What are all those bodice ripper romance novels except watered-down rape and murder stories? And we identify with the heroine/victim. There wouldn’t be slasher movies if girls wouldn’t go to them. But we go—we want to be the victim—to be completely, deliciously helpless and at the disposal of a powerful man. Even if he wants to kill us.”

And Carol knew Alice was right. Why else would she herself have become aroused by the picture? She tried a different tack.

“But it must have hurt, being tied like that. Why pain?”

“Sure it hurt. Especially that rope right through my pussy. But a little pain heightens the experience. Makes it more real. I’m not saying I wanted real agony. But some pain was good.”

“So how’d you approach Dad?”

“Showed him the picture and asked if he’d like to tie me like that.”

“And he went for it just like that?”

“Well, he tried to act shocked and play like he was reluctant, but I could tell he was really turned on. Didn’t take much persuading. We went down in the basement, we stripped, and I stood on a little step stool. We had a bunch of old cotton clothes line down there, and he did a pretty good job of getting me all trussed up. We both felt a little silly at first, but then he really got into it. He had a raging hard on practically from the get go, with pre-cum dripping off the tip, and I was dripping pretty quick too. And let me tell you, I felt so pretty and sexy. The ropes really made my tits pop out, and my nipples were so hard I thought they’d explode.

When he finished tying me, he started licking my pussy, and I came so hard I just about passed out. He took a couple of Polaroids, and then he just picked me up and laid me down on a cot and just piled into me while I was still tied. And yes, I really enjoyed it.”

“So how come you didn’t do it much more?”

“Well, I think Henry shocked himself at how he got into it. And how much I liked it. And then there was the matter of the noose. Several times I tried to talk him into putting a noose around my neck, but he didn’t want to. The bondage was great, but I really wanted more. So I finally took things into my own hands. I learned how to tie a hangman’s knot, and the next time, I had a noose already made.

“I could tell he was a little pissed, so after he had me tied, he said ‘you asked for it,’ and slipped the noose over my head and snugged it down around my neck, knot in front. And boy did that send a jolt of adrenaline through me! Then he stood there with the free end in his hand, not knowing what to do.

“There was a heavy drain pipe just above where I was standing. I looked at him, and then I looked up at the pipe. I wanted him to throw the end over the pipe and pull me up on my toes. I wanted to be right on the edge of hanging.

“And he followed my gaze with his, and I could tell he wanted to do it, too. By then I was panting, and my fear and distress were exciting him. He wanted to see me really struggling. He stood undecided for a moment, and then he dropped the rope. ‘We’re not going any further down that road,’ he said, and he untied me. He never played again.”

“Why did he stop?” Carol asked.

Alice sighed. “He was probably right. It might have been like putting two horny teenagers together where there was some privacy. Sooner or later his dick is going into her pussy. And sooner or later I’d have probably been air dancing. Henry wouldn’t have let me die deliberately, but accidents happen with that kind of play.”

“But you didn’t want to die, did you?”

“No, not exactly. But I really wanted to feel what it was like with the rope cutting off my air, losing all control, just plain helpless. And I wanted to see myself through his eyes, completely at his mercy and enjoying my pain and struggle. For that I was willing to accept death. Actually, dying that way, having a really peak experience, seems a lot better than this dying by inches.”

Alice sighed again. “Of course, then I wouldn’t have had you. And that has been worth much, much more. I’m glad it never happened. So there you have it. Your perverted old mom.”

“Well, I’m glad Dad didn’t want to take it any farther.” Carol studied the picture again. She began to understand what her mother was saying. “Can I have this?” she asked.

“Sure, Honey. It’s helped me get off many a time. Maybe it can do the same for you.”

Carol took the picture and put it away in the back of a drawer in her bedroom. After a week of suffering, her mother lapsed into a coma and died two weeks later. Carol did not think of the picture again through the six months of selling her mother’s house and settling the estate. As sole heir, Carol finally inherited a welcome, but by no means lavish, sum of money.

She rediscovered the picture one day while rummaging through the drawer. She took it out of the envelope and studied it carefully. It must have been posed. No one would publish a picture of an actual murder, would they? But the girl’s stress and fear seemed so real. She must have been a good actress.

But what if it was real? What if the picture captured one of the last moments of the girl’s life? Had she struggled as the ropes were applied? Once her wrists were secured, further struggle would have been pretty much impossible. So how would that be, to be naked, vulnerable, completely subdued and helpless, knowing that the noose would soon be stopping your last breath? The idea was repellent and terrifying, but at the same time strangely arousing. Without quite intending to, she started touching herself.

In the weeks following, Carol went on the Internet to learn as much as she could about hanging. She learned that it was a somewhat common fetish and that it was a subset of a general asphyxia fetish.. There were several sites and groups dedicated to the theme. She was amazed at how many pictures were available. Most of them were obvious fakes, but some seemed authentic. It was hard to imagine anyone willingly posing for such pictures.

She learned about the physiology of asphyxia—that irreversible brain damage began after two minutes and that unconsciousness ensued at about five minutes with death following thereafter. She learned of the risks of cardiac arrest from the vagus nerve constriction and of possibly fatal blood pressure fluctuation. It all sounded so completely foolhardy, and yet she read of people who engaged in it—sometimes with fatal results.

But she couldn’t leave the pictures, and later the asphyxia stories, alone. Many of the stories betrayed a serious misogyny, but she found others very erotic, particularly those with a lesbian theme. She tried self-bondage, wrapping ropes above and below her breasts and holding her hands behind her back. She liked the way it accentuated her breasts, but, of course, there was no real thrill.

She found some chat rooms and role played the victim with several members. It was exciting but not really satisfying. Finally, one evening, she began chatting with a new member. They role played a scenario, and at the end she typed “Imagination can only go so far. sigh.”

“Yes. How far do you want to go?”

Instead of answering directly, she sent a link to the picture, which she had scanned.

“Yes, very nice,” the person said.

“I’d like to be tied like that,” she typed.

“Anything more?”

“Yes. I’d like to be hanged.”

There. She had said it.

“For real?”

“Yes. For real.” She paused. Then, drawing a deep breath, she typed “And all the way.”

There was a pause, and she thought the person had broken off the conversation. Then the words appeared: “If you are serious, just type in your name and address. I will fulfill your fantasy. You will not know when until it is time. If you are not serious, end this chat now. If you give me your name, you will not be allowed to change your mind.”

Was this a cruel prank, or was the person in earnest? Did she really want to experience bondage and death? How would she live with even the possibility hanging over her? And yet. And yet. Almost compulsively she slowly typed in her name and address.

“Thank you. See you soon.”

And she regretted it immediately. She didn’t want to die, did she? And yet. And yet. The thought of standing naked, bound and completely helpless, waiting for her death struggle to start, brought terror but also sexual excitement. Much more so than when she had merely been toying with the idea. Her pussy actually grew moist as she imagined the scene. Obviously, the reality would be anything but titillating. And yet—she had actually asked for it.

She knew there would be no avoiding it if the person was in earnest. She had no idea who he—or possibly she—was. Or where he or she lived. Even if she went to the police, they would be unable to do anything, even if they were sympathetic, which was doubtful. She was pretty sure this person would have covered his or her Internet tracks quite well.

But this person had said “soon.” If nothing happened within a month—no, make it two months—she could assume it was a joke, right? She tried to comfort herself with the thought. But the idea of her imminent demise, painful and humiliating, wouldn’t leave. It was both terrifying and thrilling. And she finally had to frig herself to a thunderous orgasm.

It was a late November evening three weeks later. Carol quit for the day and entered her car in the dimly-lit garage underneath the office building where she worked. As she pulled out of the garage, a man’s voice from the back of the car said “Turn right.”

A stab of fear went through her. And something more. She felt her pussy growing moist. Know the answer she asked “Who—who are you?”

“The fulfill-er of your fantasy. Don’t try to escape. I have a gun on you.”

When they were out in traffic, the man sat upright and place the muzzle of the pistol at the back of her neck. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“Just follow my directions.”

He directed her onto a freeway and then off on an exit to a suburb almost 30 minutes from the city center. Several turns later they were in front of a boarded-up store front on a side street. “Pull around back through the alley,” he ordered.

She knew they had reached the place of her execution, and her mouth was dry with fear. Somehow she complied, parked, and shut off the engine. She sat as he exited the back and then got out herself as he motioned her with the gun. He followed her as they went in a back door, and she gasped as he closed the door and turned on the lights.

The room looked like a film set with banks of lights illuminating a center stage. Likewise tripods with digital movie recorders were placed around the perimeter. But Carol’s eyes were riveted on a low platform in the middle. There were coils of rope around it, and on top another coil with a hangman’s noose in one end.

“Well,” he said gently, “Is it everything you anticipated?”

She turned toward him. “Please,” she said, a tremor in her voice, “Let’s not really do this. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to die.”

He chuckled unpleasantly. “I told you no changing your mind. Now we’ve gone way too far for me to let you back out. Just be a good girl and go with it. You can start by taking off your clothes.”

She knew that if he got her naked and bound she was lost. She thought of trying to run past him and out the door, but he was a large man and she doubted she’d make it. He caught her hesitation and divined her thoughts. He chuckled again. “Don’t even think about it. I’m six two and I doubt you’re much over five feet. You might as well strip; otherwise I’ll just tear your clothes off.”

She stood undecided for a couple more seconds and then, feeling defeated, shrugged off her coat. Feeling awkward and embarrassed, but also aroused, she stepped out of the low heels she wore to work. Next came the cardigan she wore over her pastel blue blouse. She then unbuttoned the blouse itself and let it fall to the floor. She unzipped her gray skirt and likewise let it fall. She was now down to bra and panties, and almost convulsively, to get it over with, she undid her bra, letting it fall off her shoulders, and then pulled her panties down past her hips to let them go to puddle around her feet. She felt helpless and vulnerable as well as terrified. It was cool in the room, and she felt goose bumps on her skin. Her nipples were stiff and erect, and she couldn’t believe how wet she was. “Satisfied?” she asked with a flash of anger.

“Completely,” he said with a grin. “You really are lovely. Actually, you look quite a bit like the girl in the picture. You’re going to look stunning all trussed up. Speaking of which, turn around and put your hands behind you.”

Another bolt of terror went through her, but she obeyed. The man quickly tied her wrists together. In a strange way she felt free. She no longer had any responsibility for her life. “Just stand there a minute while I strip,” he said.

After a short time, he walked in front of her, completely nude, with a large erection. “You’re going to rape me,” she said. Actually, she was glad. She badly needed relief from her raging arousal.

“Of course. I must enjoy your living body before I convert it into a corpse. Just lie down on the platform.”

She walked over to the platform. It was only 18 inches high, but with her arms bound, it was awkward stepping up. Somewhat clumsily she knelt and then reclined. She was surprised at how sexy and horny she felt as he stood over her. She was still terrified, but she also wanted him. How was that possible?

He knelt and spread her legs. Lining up his dick, he entered her easily and began to fuck her with long, slow strokes. She couldn’t help starting to moan as her arousal grew. He seemed to be enjoying her reaction as he slowed, holding her on the edge of her orgasm. She grunted in frustration and writhed beneath him. Finally, as he sensed his own climax nearing, he increased his pace and intensity sending her over as she screamed. With one final thrust he poured himself into her.

After resting a moment he stood up. “That was a wonderful preliminary. Thank you. Now it’s time for the main event.”

For a short time the sex had distracted her from her impending death. Now the terror came back in full force. He helped her to her feet and had her stand in the middle of the platform. He then picked up a length of rope and began to bind her.

He worked slowly and methodically, and when he was done, she was trussed up exactly like the girl in the picture. For Carol it was uncomfortable but strangely exciting. She was now absolutely helpless. He stepped back to admire his work. “Hmmm, you look so hot! Those ropes really make your tits pop out. Here, have a look.”

He produced a small laptop computer displaying a live feed from one of the cameras. Carol saw herself in her bonds, and she gasped. She looked like the girl in the picture—better if anything. Once more she felt herself getting aroused.

“Just one final touch.” He picked up the rope with the noose and slipped it over Carol’s head. Her heart leaped into her throat and she broke out in a sweat as he snugged down the noose around her throat. His dick was again hard and throbbing.

There was a large, sturdy hook screwed into a beam above them, and he threw the loose end of the rope so it caught in the hook. He then pulled to take up the slack, and soon Carol felt the noose tugging at her throat. He stepped over to a nearby pillar where a cleat had been secured. “Any last words?” he asked. Carol shook her head.

“Let’s put you on your toes,” he said. He pulled on the rope until Carol was forced to stand on her toes to relieve the painful pressure on her throat. He held her there for several seconds, then pulled again until her toes were a couple of inches above the platform. Keeping his eyes on Carol’s suspended form, he tied off the rope.

For several seconds, Carol continued to feel for the floor with her extended toes. Then panic set in and she began a frenzied writhing and kicking. Her last air was quickly cut off, and the pressure on her throat quickly became intolerable. Her lungs quickly began to demand more oxygen. Through it all, she also began to feel sexual arousal.

Her tongue became thick and shot out of her mouth as her face became red and small blood vessels broke making her bulging eyes red. Her agony quickly eclipsed any connected thought and her body fought its execution as her movements became ever more desperate and disconnected.

He watched in fascination as Carol kicked, bicycled and scissored, her legs being the only body part she could move. Her toes clenched and splayed as her struggle reached a crescendo. Then her energy began quickly to ebb and her movements slowed and devolved into a disjointed series of twitches and shudders. Finally, with a last despairing few kicks, Carol became quiet. Just before the last trace of consciousness left her, she felt a last, powerful orgasm. Her body shuddered briefly, and then she was gone.

He contemplated her gently swaying corpse and brought himself quickly to climax. “Hope it was as good for you as it was for me,” he said aloud. For him, it had been worth it.


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