Archive-name: hanging

From: * (Happy Hangman)

Subject: REPOST: Hanging stories

Newsgroups: alt.sex.necrophilia,alt.sex.asphyx

He pressed his back against the wall, next to the closed door. Tried to control his breathing. Felt his heart pounding in his throat, breathing in ragged gasps. His hands clenched white knuckled on the coil of rope.... In one of the apartments upstairs he could hear her footsteps. Moving from one room to another. Cheap apartments, four in a group. Quadplexes, they call them. Floors so flimsy every step can be counted by anyone in the building. And window blinds so cheap and flimsy you could see through them, or around them, with binoculars. From the building across the street. His building. He'd been watching. Planning. Studying her in her bedroom. Seeing her as she dressed. Undressed. Slept. The image of her nude body burned it's way into his mind. The decision to kill had come slow and hard. But once made, the rest was easy. The method.....no question there. Just cover your tracks afterwards. But don't be a fanatic about it. So he stood in the basement laundry room of a cheap quadplex. Panting and sweating with excitement and summer heat. Listening as somewhere upstairs, in her apartment, she moved from room to room. They were alone in the building. He had watched carefully. Planned. Moved when the time was right. He was waiting in the basement laundry. Her noose was already tied. The rope ran over a heavy pipe at the ceiling, in the middle of the room. He held both ends in his hands, behind the door. She wouldn't see it as she entered the room. And now he waited. And heard the sound of her apartment door open. Her footsteps on the creaky stairs to the basement. The door next to him opened. He stood behind it. Through the crack at the hinge side he caught a glimpse of her. Short blonde hair. Carrying a laundry basket. And ( his heart slammed against his chest ) wearing cut off jeans and a bikini top. Halter style, tied at the back and the neck. She walked straight across the room to a washing machine. He moved silently behind her. Filled with the thrill and terror of it all. Almost not believing he was really doing it. She set the basket down on top of the machine. He dropped the noose over her head from behind. Moving fast, he pulled the other end of the rope tight, and moved back across the room, past the pipe the rope was over, pulling her with him. She gasped as the rope dropped around her neck, and then it was too tight to breathe, she never did scream. He held the rope with both hands and lunged across the room. She was dragged back from the washer, both hands at her throat, and jerked clear of the floor. He tied his end to another pipe along the wall. And stood and watched. She hanged in the center of the room. Eyes wide. Fingers at her throat, trying to get beneath the rope. The knot was straight behind her head. Her long legs and bare feet swung forward and back, like a mermaid swimming. She made a quiet gargle noise. He moved to her and with shaking fingers untied her bikini top. Reached around in front of her, between her elbows. Grabbed the fabric and pulled it away from her. He briefly felt the soft warm flesh of her breasts as he jerked the cloth away. She was kicking her legs now. One leg kicked back while the other leg kicked forwards. Her bare feet reaching for the floor. She moved her hands away from her throat and gripped the rope above the hangmans noose. Her breasts swayed and bounced, nipples huge and hard. Tried to lift herself with her hands, her chests heaving with the effort. He stood against the wall. Mesmerized. Watched her. Watched her moving breasts. Her flailing legs. Her wide eyes, and gasping silent mouth. He tried to control his breathing. His chest was heaving as hard as hers. He sunk to his knees and watched while She held on to the rope and stopped flailing her legs. Hanged still with her knees bent up a little in front of her. Her face had a hint of blue under her tan. She pressed her knees together and lifted her legs a little, thrust them slowly down. Again. And again. Her body trembled and shook. Her nipples jigged on the ends of her swaying breasts. Then her hands started to slide slowly down the rope. Past the coils of the noose, down to her shoulders, and then her arms went limp and flopped down. Her hands caught briefly on her breasts, making her nipples bounce as her arms slipped free. Then her arms laid straight at her sides, bending slowly at the elbows a little, back and forth. Her legs dangled straight down, her bare feet twitching. The rope stretched her slender neck impossibly long, making her head look down between her breasts. Her eyes were almost closed. Slowly her hands clenched into fists at her side. Her toes curled into tight little balls. Her body was racked with a spasm that made her legs flail out once move, and her breasts bounce heavily. She mermaid kicked once more, and then went perfectly limp. And hanged perfectly straight and still. The rope over the pipe creaked softly. Somewhere, in the distance, a dog barked. He crawled weakly to his feet and staggered from the basement. Somewhere soon, he would do this again. In the laundry room, she hanged in her noose from her pipe. Her bare breasts motionless, her long legs dangling from the hem of her cutoff jeans, her toes pointed straight at the floor. At her sides, her fingers were curled into loose half fists. The rope creaked softly again.

Path: bull.hkstar.net!news1.hk.linkage.net!hk.linkage.net!hpg30a.csc.cuhk.hk!news.cuhk.edu.hk!news.glink.net.hk!uunet!in1.uu.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!uwm.edu!newsspool.doit.wisc.edu!wiscnews.wiscnet.net!news From: * (Happy Hangman) Newsgroups: alt.sex.necrophilia,alt.sex.asphyx Subject: REPOST: hanging stories Date: Fri, 05 Jul 1996 15:35:58 GMT Organization: University of Wisconsin, Madison Lines: 167 Message-ID: <4rj64q$hke@wiscnews.wiscnet.net> NNTP-Posting-Host: ppp020-stpt.coredcs.com X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.0.82 Xref: bull.hkstar.net alt.sex.necrophilia:3325 alt.sex.asphyx:765

He clung to the tree trunk, exactly 2 stories in the air. Level with her bedroom window. Invisible in the dark night. Motionless except for the beating of his heart.....( just like in the song, he thought ). Inside the bedroom she stood in front of her mirror and studied herself as she slowly undressed. Ran her hands over her body. Primped her hair, looking sidelong at herself in the mirror. Then she took a towel from the dresser and went into the adjoining bathroom. Closed the door.
He stepped carefully along a tree branch, onto the small roof under her window. Tried the window. Unlatched. He crawled into the room and closed the window silently.
From the bathroom he could hear the sound of the shower water running. His senses were filled with the smell of her perfumes and shampoos and soaps.
The closet door stood halfway open. He slipped in carefully, and nestled in behind the row of hanging clothes.
Hanging clothes, he thought. Ironic.
She was in the shower a very long time.
Finally he heard the water stop. She came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Stood in front of the dresser, used the blow drier on her hair. He could see her from behind, and in the mirror.
She brushed her hair. Combed her hair. Teased her hair. Then she dropped the towel on the floor.
From a dresser drawer she got white panties, pulled them on. And a white bra. She spent a long time adjusting her cleavage above the bra cups.
Then she pulled on a short little half slip. And from the bed she took a black pleated skirt, pulled it on. The hem fell halfway up her thighs.
Then a white gauzy blouse. He could see her bra through the fabric. She buttoned up the front and tucked it into the waist of her skirt.
From the dresser she pulled out a pair of pantyhose. Tangled. She concentrated on straightening them out. He moved out of the closet and crossed the carpet to where she stood by the dresser. In one hand he held a shiny knife.
She had her head down, never saw him coming. The first she knew, his left hand was clamped across her mouth, and the knife was held in front of her face. He felt her body go rigid, and she made a long quivering intake of breath. In the mirror he could see her eyes snap open wide.
"Shhhhh" he said simply.
She dropped the pantyhose on top of the dresser and laid her hands flat on the top.
She was trembling and taking deep breaths, but not trying to scream or struggle. He slowly released her mouth, and tapped her lips with one finger. Stood close behind her, pinned her to the dresser.
From one of his coat pockets he pulled out a roll of clear packaging tape. Reaching one arm around her from each side, he peeled off a half foot of tape, cut it with his knife. Holding it delicately by the ends, he slowly pressed it across her mouth, and smoothed out the edges with his fingers. Her body trembled against him, and she sobbed quietly. The smell of her freshly cleaned hair filled his nose.
He took the pantyhose from the dresser top. Using his knife, he cut the panties away. He gently pulled her arms behind her and used one length of the soft nylon to bind her wrists tightly together. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her to face him, leaning her back against the dresser.
He slid the knife slowly down the front of her shirt, carefully cutting away each of the buttons. They fell to the carpet almost silently. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her cleavage became visible between the edges of her open shirt.
Turning her to face the dresser again, he slowly slid the knife up the right sleeve of her shirt. Opened it from the cuff to the collar. And did the same with the left sleeve. He pulled the ruined shirt away and dropped it to the floor.
Watching over her shoulder, in the mirror, he reached around in front and carefully cut both bra straps above the cups. Then he used the other length of nylon to pull her elbows tight together, watching as she had to pull her shoulders back and extend her chest. Her breasts swelled above her bra cups, quivered. Her nipples made hard bumps through the fabric.
He spun her around to face him. Slid the knife slowly under the front of her bra, lifted until it cut the strap. Her breasts tumbled out, and the bra slipped to the floor. Sliding his knife back into his belt, he used both hands to squeeze her breasts. Lift them. Let them drop. Jiggle them side to side. Twist them. He pinched her hard nipples, twisted them. Slapped them.
Suddenly her grabbed her by the waist and threw her across the room. She staggered over the carpet and fell on the bed. Her skirt slid up and exposed her tawny thighs. She lay on her back, her knees pressed together, gasping and sobbing, her breasts sloshing back and forth.
From his coat pocket he pulled out a length of jingling rope and pulleys. Lightweight rope with a small block and tackle attached. Guaranteed to lift 500 pounds. More than enough. He pulled her chair to the open center of the room and stood on it. Turned a large eyebolt through the plaster and into the wood of the ceiling joist. Hooked one pulley of the block and tackle to it. Leaving the apparatus dangling, he stepped off the chair, and turned to the bed.
She was gone.
He saw the door was still closed. The window was still closed. The closet stood open.
He knelt down and looked under the bed. She turned her head from him and moaned.
By the hair, he pulled her out. Flat on her back. Her breasts moving prettily while he dragged her to lay under the makeshift gallows.
From another pocket he took a short loop of heavy white rope. The ends were tied together to make a loop just big enough to slide over her head. He pulled her into a sitting postion, and adjusted the loop so the knot was in front of her throat. He clipped the lower pulley onto the back of the noose. And gently pulled the free end of the rope. She was moaning with each breath, terrified. Tears stood in the corners of her eyes. As he pulled, the knot pressed against her throat, and her fast deep breaths started to rasp. She struggle to her knees.
Slowly he pulled the rope tight again. Her breath rasped, and she staggered to her feet.
Pulled. She shook her head, pleading with her eyes, her black hair pinned flat under the noose. As the rope grew tight again, she staggered in a small circle until she was centered under the gallows. She rose slowly on her toes, her breath high pitched and desperate. The loop forced her to look down at her quivering breasts. Behind her back, her fists opened and closed.
He tied the end of the rope to the closet doorknob. Reached under her black skirt and slowly slid her panties down her legs. Lifted her feet out of them, one at a time. Then he slid off her short half slip. And then her black skirt. Kicked them all across the room.
She stood nude. Trembling. Her skin glistened with sweat. Her nipples were incredibly hard, perched on the front of her breasts. Her toes pressed into the carpet, her heels off the floor. Taking long, labored breaths.
He ran his hands over her body. She groaned again as he did. He slid his fingers between her legs, found her soaked. Her body shook and she staggered from foot to foot.
He untied the rope from the doorknob, and pulled her off the floor.
Her breath stopped. She pointed her toes straight at the floor, tried to reach. Couldn't. Her legs moved slowly, treading water. Fists behind her back.
Her chest heaved for air, got none. Again. Her breasts bounced. She started to flail her legs out in different directions, desperate to gain footing on something. The lightweight rope started to slowly spin. He watched her struggle, turning around and around.
She pulled her knees up to her chest, and kicked forward. Then pulled her legs up behind her and kicked back. Managed to draw one quick little breath each time. Again and again. And again.
He looked at the clock radio on her nightstand. She'd been hanging for 5 minutes now. Her struggles were becoming slower, less coordinated. Her whole body took on a shade of light blue. Her legs dangled heavier and her hands were held in loose half fists.
He untied the rope and let her slump to the floor. She drew in a ragged breath, panted. Lay motionless, except for her heavy sobbing.
He pulled her off the floor again.
Tied the rope and stood next to her. Shoved his fingers between her legs. Inside of her. She thrust her pelvis against his hand, clamped her legs on his hand, soaked, silent, contracting on his fingers.
He kept his hand there for her until he knew she was dead. It took nearly 20 minutes. He had counted at least 3 major orgasms, with countless smaller ones in between.
Now she dangled motionless above the floor, her toes pointed straight down. Her hair was a mess. Not a quiver ran through her body.
He let her slump down to the floor again. Took the loop from around her neck. Disconnected the pulley from the ceiling and unscrewed the eyebolt. Put it all back in his pocket again. Left her with her wrists and elbows tied together, flat on her back on the floor. He climbed out the window, and down the tree. And went into the night.

Path: bull.hkstar.net!news1.hk.linkage.net!hk.linkage.net!hpg30a.csc.cuhk.hk!news.cuhk.edu.hk!news.glink.net.hk!uunet!in1.uu.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!uwm.edu!newsspool.doit.wisc.edu!wiscnews.wiscnet.net!news From: * (Happy Hangman) Newsgroups: alt.sex.necrophilia,alt.sex.asphyx Subject: REPOST: hanging stories Date: Fri, 05 Jul 1996 15:36:55 GMT Organization: University of Wisconsin, Madison Lines: 125 Message-ID: <4rj66j$hke@wiscnews.wiscnet.net> NNTP-Posting-Host: ppp020-stpt.coredcs.com X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.0.82 Xref: bull.hkstar.net alt.sex.necrophilia:3326 alt.sex.asphyx:766

One thing she had always been proud of.......when she made up her mind, that was that. End of story.
And she had made up her mind that somebody was going to die tonight.
Him, or her. And sometimes it didn't matter which one.
So here she was, slipping silently backwards through a basement window, into the nearly deserted frat house. Heart in her throat. Wet. Dressed to kill.
She had taken a long time deciding what to wear. She had settled on a tight black t-shirt, and a short, black, tight, stretchy skirt. Black running shoes. No underwear. If things went his way, she wanted it to go his way big.
She'd been in the house a half a dozen times already. Always when it was completely deserted. Scouted it out. Planned. Stashed her goodies where she could get them now.
She lifted the black travel bag from behind a pile of cardboard, and crept silently through the dark towards the stairs. Alive, and aware of the cool dank air on her legs and under her skirt. The pressure of the tight t-shirt on her breasts.
Up the stairs. The door opened silently as she pushed. She'd oiled the hinges last time she'd prowled the house.
Pausing in the shadowy kitchen to slowly ease open the zipper on the bag. Holding it shut with both handles, she moved towards the stairs.
Up the stairs, skipping over the squeaky ones. She wanted to be silent, even though she figured he was sleeping heavily. He'd partied after the football game, probably had a few.
At his bedroom door now. These hinges were oiled too. She slipped in and latched the door behind her. Listened to his breathing, tried to control hers. She felt like she was doing foreplay, and it was getting close to action.
Moonlight lay in a square patch on the floor, giving plenty of light to see. He slept on his back in the bed, a sheet pulled up to his waist, his naked chest moving slowly as he breathed. She placed the bag next to the bed, knelt next to it, near his head. Her heart pounded, and her breath was hard to keep quiet.
From the bag she carefully pulled out a length of nylon strap, with a loop at each end. Fingers trembling, she pushed one end of the strap under his neck, next to the pillow. Careful not to touch his skin with the nylon. Reached over his chest and helped the strap through. Knowing this was IT, him or her.
Toying with the impulse to carelessly wake him up and lose the fight.
She threaded one end of the strap through the loop at the other end. Laid the assembly on the sheet next to his head, the noose supporting itself just above his throat.
His regular slow breathing changed to a long intake, and an erotic groan. He was dreaming. The sheet covering his waist quickly rose to a peak. She stared, mesmerized. Felt herself get wetter and hotter, her nipples tightened against her t-shirt.
He moaned again, and pushed his hips up slightly. Gasped. She bent to the bag and pulled out a small block and tackle assembly.
She had asked her physics professor to help her design this thing. Didn't tell him what for, of course. Just gave him her weight, 110, and his weight, 220, and let him size it.
Now she quickly and silently moved a chair to the center of the room, and slipped a nylon strap around a pipe near the ceiling. Clipped one pulley to the strap. Got down and moved the chair away. Clipped the other pulley very carefully to the strap around his neck.
Beneath the sheet his hand moved up and down on his cock. His breath gently panted. His eyes were still closed, maybe still asleep.
Again she considered waking him, letting him win this one.
Instead she took the loose end of the rope in her hands. This was all measured out. She needed to pull this end of the rope to that doorknob, and drop the loop over the handle.
Wrapping the rope around her hands, she lunged across the room. Never expected it to pull so easily. Reached the doorknob, and threw the loop over it. Unraveled her hands. Turned to look.
In the moonlight he hanged above the floor. His feet moved like he was treading water. Fingers clawed at the strap that had tightened on his neck so much it had almost disappeared. His cock waved straight out in front of him. Mouth opened and closed silently.
She stood and stared, both her hands going to the front of her skirt.
He kept his hands at his throat. Jogged in place, inches above the floor, cock bobbing, the veins on his cock bulging in the moonlight.
Her hands moved on herself and she moaned, and then she pulled her skirt up and threw one leg over the rope. Guided it between her legs, slid back and forth on it, soaking the rope, feeling the jerks and tugs as he struggled on his end. Squeezed her breasts with her hands as the rope worked at her, bringing her closer. She opened her mouth and moaned out loud, panting, staring......
With his hands at his throat, he pressed his legs together, thrust out his cock, and shot a stream of semen across the room. Spurting again and again, splashing on the floor and bed, hanging in a string from the end of his cock. The sight brought her to orgasm too, and she pulled her feet off the floor, balancing all her weight on the rope between her legs, gasped and panted, hands clamped on her own breasts. She inadvertently screamed as she came.
Suddenly his body exploded into frenzied struggles. His legs thrashed in every direction, his arms flailed and punched at the air. His cock bounced and bobbed, still hard, swinging up and slapping against his washboard stomach. Balls swinging below. The rope twanged between her legs, kept her skimming on the brink of another orgasm. She pulled her t-shirt off over her head and threw it on the floor, leaned forward on the rope, rode it, letting it bounce her between her legs and her breasts.
She was washed over by an orgasm, and then another. She'd never seen a man completely out of control before, and it turned her on beyond description. He gyrated and thrashed and turned blue, his cock getting harder, the veins starting to stand out on the shaft again. The smell of semen filled the air.
He put his hands to the rope above his head and tried to lift himself, but his strength was gone. His legs became uncoordinated, swinging loose and heavy. His toes pointed down. Slowly his hands slid off the rope and fell to his sides.
She slid off the rope and walked to him. Stood in front of his twitching body, staring at his straining cock. Took his balls in her hands and squeezed. Hard. Pulled them down and squeezed as hard as she could. His cock spurted hot cum across her bare breasts and her stomach, spewing gob after gob of hot crawly flooding semen.
She pulled her skirt off, kicked off her shoes. Reached up and took him by the neck, pulled herself off the floor against him. Slid up until his impossible hard cock was between her legs, and then impaled herself on it. Let her toes dangle next to his as she pumped his cock, brought herself to orgasm again and again and again, as long as her arms could hold her up to him. Just when she couldn't hold on any longer, his corpse ejaculated into her, one last time.
She slid to the floor and lay gasping for a long time, while he hanged motionless above her. His cock stayed hard.
Finally, she got up and pulled her clothes on, over the sticky sperm that coated her belly and breasts and thighs. Leaving everything as it was, she crept out of the house.

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