Dying To Please - Ch. 2

Replies begin to trickle in from her Tor webpage. Some she can instantly dismiss: online fantasists and bedroom masturbators. From the men she has encountered in the past, both online and in real life, she has learnt to detect how few are real, and distinguish them from those who simply want a lengthy mail exchange or a quickie fuck with a sub.
The real ones tended to be briefer, more circumspect and cautious. Like herself, she recognises the initially 'diffident' style of those who know they are revealing something shocking, and possibly dangerous to admit.
'Love it baby! I am a cruel powerful Master who likes his victims to be dressed as maids when I string them up and watch them squirming. Got any pics of yourself dressed in...' Bin at once.
'I'd take you to a club I know and...' Bin.
'Let's meet up and get to know each other a bit...' Bin.
'Has anyone else played with you in your gibbet-room?'
'No.'
'Have you tested the bag? Is it certain to lift you off the ground?'
'Yes and yes. Carefully, a few times.'
'And it will do so slowly?'
'Yes. It is designed to strangle, not 'hang' suddenly. I estimate it will take several minutes to do its job.'
'Would you mind being revived more than once to extend the event?'
'Only so long as that doesn't weaken my user's resolve to complete the process.'
'Would you want a trial run first so see if your own interest in how it happens coincides with the executioner's?'
'No, no trial run.'
'You prefer a total stranger then?'
'Yes.'
'Good. So do I.'
This looked interesting.
'Suppose your executioner was a woman? What then?'
'That would be perfect – so long as she truly wanted to do it, and wanted to maximise my humiliation in the process.'
'That could be guaranteed.'
'But I would like a man, or men, to witness it as well.'
'Simply to watch – or to participate and use you as part of it?'
'The latter.'
'That could also be arranged. Though a warning: the larger the number the more likely that some participant might turn out to be 'unreliable' and try to interfere with the outcome... I would suggest no more than three or four.'
'Would you be arranging this?'
'I haven't said that. And do you really need to know? Is it your business to?'
'No, not if I feel I can trust the person. I have taken a lot of trouble...'
'I can see that. You want to be sure, don't you? That they are as serious about it as you are?'
'Yes. It is not a game to me. My intention is that the apparatus I have built is not for games, but to be used once and once only..'
'That is what we are talking about. Once only... A game for me; for you, the last one.'
'Yes.'
'I am female. A man cannot be trusted to really do as we propose, not to see it through. Their resolve is usually so dependent on the state of their own arousal, and once completed... So you cannot be trusted either. I too have to be certain – of you, certain you are absolutely serious. If you are, you aren't risking anything. But I am. Think about that.'
'I see that. You think I just want an orgasm and then be released afterwards?'
'Exactly.'
'I have played that many times. Alone ever since I was 14 and later with men. I have never been fully satisfied with the games. We both know why – what was missing. I need to serve completely. To be humiliated completely. All those games left me disappointed. My life needs a purpose, and it is clear to me now there can only be one. The games were all preparation for that, understanding myself fully. Knowing at last what needs to be required of me. When it is – and by the right person – I shall not mind. Of course I will be surrendering all those years I might have had, but I know now they will be worth less than one evening of being what I am truly meant to be. You need not doubt I am serious.'
'Convincing talk... but still... why are you so sure?'
'This is difficult, but if you must know... I loved my dad. Much more than my mum. One day I began dressing. A few months later my dad caught me. He spanked me very hard and then made me stay dressed for the rest of the day until just before my mum came home from work, to embarrass me even more. I carried on dressing anyway, and some years later in my mid-teens I found out something shocking when nosing around in their bedroom looking for stuff of my mum's to try on: a trunk with lots of tarty women's clothes and rude pictures in it.
It seems she'd been cuckolding him for years - and he'd enjoyed it! Watching her. But that wasn't the worst. All the tarty clothes were his. He was a sissy and as the pictures of him, her and her lovers made clear, a 'fairy' too. A cock-worshipping sissy 'fairy'. My father.
Later he moved out. She ordered him to go. He came round to see us occasionally, but I knew it was really her he wanted to see. She just thought he was a nuisance. He was pathetic and I hated him for it, and for being such a hypocrite and liar the day he'd found me dressed.
But I slowly realised I was just like him, submissive and perverted and a sissy. Around the same time I became interested in bondage to make me helpless. My dad just kind of crumbled away and died in the end of something or other, but the more I thought about him and my mum, the more I knew what he should really have done. He was a coward: he knew she didn't want to see him ever again. He should have killed himself to please her.
I realised that that was what I really wanted whenever I went with men. I wanted them to use me, and use me up. I wanted someone who would want me because I was 'disposable'. Totally disposable. For that very reason. That became all I could think about. It's all I do think about. I need to serve – and serve someone who wants no limits or rules on the extent of that service.
That's really all I can tell you.'
'I see.'
'And you? How can I be certain you really want someone like me?'
'My uncle abused me and my sister when we were kids. Really nasty stuff I don't want to describe or remember. Though my dad wasn't involved, I found out years later that he'd known all about it but hadn't said a word or lifted a finger to stop it. He used to dress as well, and he had a private stash of pictures my uncle had taken of me. I despised him.
When I was a kid I saw some Western on telly in which a lynch mob hung some rustlers. It kind of made me feel funny, maybe an orgasm I think, my first, and it stayed in my mind. When I learned the truth about my dad I started imagining it was him and my uncle being forced onto the wagon with their hands tied behind their backs, and the horses being whipped away leaving them dangling there. I pictured my dad dressed in the stupid slutty clothes I knew he had and the lynch mob all laughing at him for that. It used to turn me on imagining it. Still does.
I despise you as well, and boys like you: fairies who pretend they're women when all they are really is dirty little perverts like my dad. So trust me – if we do this I'll have no trouble going through with it. It's what you deserve – and one less kinky little creep of a sissy male in this world. Believe me, I'll enjoy making you go – slowly. Just like you, I'll finally be satisfying a dream I need to fulfill.
Still interested?'
'Do you have tattoos?'
'No. Why?'
'Well... I don't want to be mutilated or tortured. Other than by penetration and by what the noose does. Sounds like you want to slice me up as well.'
'Ah, I get it! No, no tats: I hate blood! And needles or anything sharp. No. Not interested in that at all. Just the hanging - and the outcome. I'd probably whip you, but not the way my uncle did me.'
'That would be fair. And the men? Sounds like you wouldn't really want them there.'
'No, not a bit. I like watching men fucking sissies roughly. I watch quite a lot of porn in that line. Gets me hot in fact. BTW I think you're quite pretty – which doesn't make me at all sympathetic. The reverse if anything. You pretty boys just make it harder for women. You fuck up men's heads with your twisted submissive I-do-anything whores' attitude to sex. So it makes you better for this in my eyes. Just so you know.'
'Great. I deserve to be humiliated in the process of it, so I want someone who'll really enjoy that side of it.'
'Oh I will, you can be sure of that!'
'OK. I think you really sound like the person I'm looking for. I hope so. I don't want any 'practice' meets – and I noted that you don't. Whoever does this must feel totally safe that they will remain anonymous. The last thing I want is for anyone involved ever to be arrested. On the contrary, I want them all to live a long happy life – with one very special, very 'wicked' memory to look back on. A real one, not a fantasy. It sounds like we can fulfill each other's needs.
But it must be planned so there is no trace of evidence whatever leading back to anyone else who is present. I need to know that the people there can enjoy it, walk away afterwards and suffer no unpleasant consequences of any kind.'
'That's my plan too. No prior meets, no personal details. Everyone gets exactly what they are expecting to – including you!'
'Yes. Including me. I've still got a few modifications to make to the room. I realised I want mirrors, I want to see everything that's done to me for as long as possible. No blindfold.'
'No need for a blindfold, is there. You won't giving anyone a description of who was there afterwards, will you? And I'd like you to have to watch it all too. Right up to the moment when you no longer can.
Got to go now. We'll talk more. But not a lot. I'm not in this for online 'cheapies'. I don't think you are either; we'll see. We should discuss only what needs discussing from now on. Get back to me when you're ready. I'll let you know when I've found suitable – and serious – men to participate. Don't be long though. Weeks, not months.'
'OK. That suits me. Bye'....

She realised her knees were knocking under the desk when they'd finished their online chat. Her apparatus downstairs was becoming more real. It was no longer just a means waiting to make her dream come true, whenever that might be. It now embodied someone else's desires as well. The timetable was no longer vague. She felt chills, realising her life was now rushing towards its climax and resolution.