A Good Day to Die

When I woke up this morning I hoped it was my last day.

That feeling is still with me as I wait for her in our room. I had arrived in the city yesterday. Following her instructions, I bought supplies and set the scene up as instructed. Now it is all ready, “Do not disturb sign” on the doorknob and a spare key waiting for her at the front desk.

All I need is a confirmation text from her. I check her flight’s status. “Landed” it says. My heart skips a beat as my phone pings. “Geronimo” says the text. That’s my signal, and I get moving.

I am already naked, and now I lay down on the bed I spent so much time getting ready last night. Everything I need is close at hand, all I have to do is follow the instructions she made me repeat again and again in our last chat before she left.

First, I chain my ankles to the foot end of the bed, using chains and padlocks I bought yesterday. Then, I zip tie my balls, creating a makeshift cock ring. My dick, already erect from thinking of Mistress, immediately swells up.

I get on my knees, grabbing the lubed butt plug Mistress ordered me to get. It is much thicker and longer than any I have tried before, and I groan with pain as I try to push the wide part past my tight anal sphincter. I know it is easier if I relax, but the last thing I feel now is relaxed.

This can't be happening. I have to be ready when she arrives, a fucking butt plug is not going to stop me! I decide to sit on it and let my weight squeeze it past my sphincter. With an intense burst of pain that brings tears to my eyes it pops into place.

As the searing abates, I am grateful to Mistress that I will never have to remove the thing. It will stay in there forever, at least for me which is the only thing that counts now. I know that at some point in the near future a coroner will have the unenviable task of pulling it out of my dead body.

I imagine a blonde lab tech, perhaps performing one of her first autopsies, gasping as she struggles to pull the twenty inch behemoth out of me. She will wonder what kind of madness made me insert it, cringe when she sees the damage it caused to my ass and never the intense joy I felt as I raped myself.

Then, I get the bag I have modified for our purpose. It’s just an ordinary, black trash bag made of extra thick plastic, but I have cut and taped it so that Mistress and I can share it. This is her idea: We are to go out together. Chained to the bed and to each other, both our heads in the same plastic bag, fucking ourselves to death.

I’ve cut a slit at the bottom of the bag and poke my head through it. I grab a roll of duct tape, tear off a long strip and tape the bag to my neck. Another strip seals any gaps that might remain, it has to be totally air tight. The bag is around my neck, my head poking through the open end. The end that Mistress soon will pull over her head and tape to her neck. Our shared space – five, maybe ten minutes of oxygen before we pass out and die from asphyxia.

I pause for a second, going through the steps in my mind and making sure I remember each one correctly. Ah, yes. The sperm. For weeks, Mistress has instructed me to bag myself and jerk off into a plastic container. After every session the container went back into my freezer. Then, as our plan was set into motion last week, she told me to stop masturbating before our meet up, and bring the container with me to the hotel.

I took the container of cum out of the hotel fridge this morning, and now there is a large glass filled with warm, slimy liquid on a tray beside my head. I dunk my fingers into my life juice and smear a large gob of onto my face, then several more generous dabs on the inside of the bag. With trembling hands, I lift the glass to my lips and empty it slowly.

Mistress told me to savor the cum, as it would be the last thing I ever got to drink. As the familiar, funky taste fills my mouth, I look down at my cock. It is shockingly swollen, deep red with a hint of blue. I may have zip-tied it too tight, and normally I would be worried about possible damage. But not now. This cock is only going to be used one more time, then be disposed of as part of the trash that is my slave body.

The taste of cum always turned me on, and I thank my Mistress for her choice of my last drink. I will die with this taste in my mouth, a fitting end to a hard core kinkster. I swallow it all in one big gulp, then grab the gag I put on the tray. This is my one act of rebellion. Mistress told me to get a ball gag, I got a peniz-shaped one. It is huge and thick, and as that head slides into my cum-slick mouth my cock twitches in anticipation.

Sorry dude, can’t touch you I think as I tighten the strap at the nape of my neck. Next come the ear plugs, followed by a padded leather blindfold. Mistress does not want me to know when she enters the room, and of course I obey.

Blind, deaf and mute I lay back and cuff my left hand. The other half of the handcuff I hook onto the chain I fastened to the upper left-hand corner of the bed. My arm is stretched as far as it can go as I do this, to ensure that I won’t have the smallest chance of reaching the bag.

With my right hand I pull the bag up so that it covers my head, but still allows me some air through the open end. The one where I hope to see Mistress’ head appear in a short while.

This is it, I think. If I do this, there is no way back. The only thing that can possibly save me then is if Mistress has an accident on her way to the hotel, and the maid service finds me tomorrow.

I do not even hesitate for a second. I hook the handcuff to the chain, and press down hard. Click. There, die cast. Fate sealed.

This is how far Mistress has taken me. Like a teacher leading a pupil by the hand through a dark and dangerous forest, Mistress has helped me understand why I have always been so fascinated by breath play. Why I have jerked off with a plastic bag on my head or a belt around my neck since my teens.

Yes, of course it is about the asphyxia high, the super intense orgasms. But Mistress showed me that there was more to it than that. That my passion for executrix videos, where women bag to death men tied to beds, was more than a fantasy. I did not just flirt with death when I bagged and cuffed myself alone. I actively sought it out.

All through our chatting she was reminding me of this, challenging me. “You know where I am taking you don’t you?” she insisted, and I knew. Of course, I knew.

So here I am. Chained and helpless, completely at Mistress’ mercy. I have no voice any more, I will never speak again. I do not think I will see or hear again either. I have never seen the girl who is coming to kill me naked, only partly clothed in images. It might not even be her at all, she could look completely different and I would never know. Hell, she could even be a guy.

I hope to find out very soon now, as I squirm in anticipation and groan a bit from the dull ache in my grotesquely swollen cock and the pain in my stretched ass. I can feel how thick my cock is, with veins bulging and head glistening with pre-cum. Please, I think. Mistress, please, release me. All I want to do is to cum one more time and then die.

There is a slight tremor on the bed. Then another. Someone is in the room. I know I am not supposed to acknowledge this at all. I am just a piece of meat to Mistress, someone who happens to be suitable to act out her final wish with. So I stay still as I feel movement around me.

Now Mistress, and it has to be her as any other person in this room would have freed me by now, sits down by my chest. I feel her hands briefly against my body, before they move on to the bag.

Finally! I shout soundlessly. I sense movement over my head, then the bag is twisted and pulled against my face. It takes me a few seconds to grasp what she just did. Mistress taped shut the upper end of the bag, and I am now enclosed in plastic, all alone.

As she has told me countless times, we all die alone no matter who is with us. I do not feel tricked or angry, or even scared. Deep down I expected this to happen. With a few simple movements of her hands Mistress has shortened my expectancy from decades to minutes, and I accept it. It is what it is.

I take a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of lungs completely filled with oxygen for my last time. The smell and taste of cum is so strong, almost overwhelming. It has always been the smell of wild sex for me, and I thank Mistress for making me do this.

The whole world has shrunk to a black space, tasting and smelling of cum, of a throbbing cock and violently raped ass and lungs that are starting to burn for lack of oxygen. I imagine how I must look to Mistress as I take another lungful of stale cum air. Spread eagled on my back, red cock towering above my crotch, head a black plastic blob.

I feel the first twinge of panic. Mistress told me that I was not to fear this. She had gone past it to the point of nearly dying, and had never forgotten the feeling. As I start to go light-headed I thrust my hips, stabbing my member into thin air. I know that Mistress has decided to let me die without satisfaction, but my cock is all I have left and I will try to use it.

As I do this, I realize that the feeling of being super erect is enough in itself. I am not a pathetic nobody about to suffocate on a strange bed in a nondescript hotel, I am the owner of a magnificent cock, a sex god who could fuck anything and everything. I feel amazing, straining against my chains, pumping my proud rod, clenching the gorgeous dildo in my butt.

I am thrusting, writhing, moaning with extreme joy as the last of my air runs out and my brain starts to shut down. I want to shout out to Mistress, thank her for what she is doing to me. But I am bound by my oath to her, I have promised to obey her to my death and I will do so.

My gift to her is the show I am giving her right now. The thrill she must be feeling as she sees her slave die for her like this. I hope I do well, that Mistress is masturbating to my death throes. That my stiff, dead cock will make her orgasm as she slides onto it in a just a minute. That my lungs will eagerly give up my last breath when she rips open the bag and presses her lips against mine.

I no longer have the strength to pump my hips, but my limbs have a life of their own now. They are twitching and trembling, and my last clear thought is that these are my death spasms. This is how it is do die. Not darkness or fear, but cock, ass, cum, sex, Mistress and jubilation.

Death is the only real orgasm, and for the first time in my life I cum.