The Executioners Choice (Asphyx) by Lottie

You look down at the small girl you are holding so tightly. My eyes are closed and my fine blond hair has fallen back off my face as my head tilts to accommodate your grip around my throat. It falls across your arm like a single piece of silk, even in such a dim light its sheen is unmistakeable. You raise your other hand, almost absentmindly, to brush away the couple of strands that have obstinately clung to the side of my face, spoiling the tableau.

Suddenly you are transported back to a time and place you had thought long forgotten. Your bare hand is lifted to brush away a strand of similar coloured hair away from someone else’s face. A flash of regret and grief accompanies this abrupt picture. Your hand does not falter and I unaware of any hesitation in your movement.

You lower your head and whisper close to my ear “Are you afraid of the loneliness of the noose”? Baffled by such a question at this time, my eyes fly open and I look up into your face. I nod my head fractionally, restrained from answering by the grip of your hand. You look down into deep blue eyes and make a decision.

Unknown to many people this decision has always been yours to make. The sentence of execution is incontestable, however the stated method of hanging is merely an expression of the courts preferred choice.

“Then, we will take a different path” you say in reply to my affirmation. You place both of your hands on my shoulders and push me forward gently so that I am no longer leaning on you. You turn me around, my eyes level with your chest fix on your dark jacket, confusion and anxiety now flood my body. A gloved finger tilts my chin back so that I have to look up into your face. The mask you wear terrifies me, it removes you as a human being from my reality, I try so hard to focus on your eyes instead , but an undeniable compulsion constantly returns my attention back to that which I fear. You raise both of your gloved hands, your fingers trace down the sides of my face, neck and tautly pulled back shoulders, I am not immune to the sensations of pleasure that trickle through my fear in automatic response.

You take off your gloves and carefully place them on the small table beside you. The momentary removal of your gaze from my face results in a corresponding lightening of tension, however I remain immobile as my focus is on the lingering echoes on my skin from your touch.

Your returning gaze causes me to catch my breath, but I’m unsure if the accompanying reason is fear or arousal. You repeat your earlier touch, your bare fingers tracing over of the already sensitised lines that remember the passage of your gloved hands. I shiver in pleasure and tension begins to ebb away.

Once again you move to stand behind me and we inevitably adopt our previous positions as if in practised harmony. Your bare hand grips my throat and I submissively lean back into your body. Your other hands runs down the front of my body, pausing for a moment to encircle my small breasts one by one. My nipples rise in instant response and I push my body slightly forward in an unconscious effort to maintain your caress. This movement arches my body as your grip on my neck tightens and I push my head back further against your chest, moaning in frustration. Your hand slips under my short thin dress and the feel of your cool fingers on my now hot flesh adds impetus to my rising excitement.

You trace around my right breast in decreasing circles until you have my nipple caught between your thumb and forefinger. You squeeze viciously and feel my body tense in delicious pain. You maintain the pressure for a moment until I gasp in protest. Your attention moves across to my left breast and you repeat your actions. My level of anticipation ensures that I am squirming under your grasp long before you reach your intended goal. The expectation of pain merely increases my bodies sensitivity and when you do squeeze a palpable shudder of pleasure runs through my body.

Your hand now drops lower, my breath quickens and I unconsciously widen my stance to allow you access. You begin to apply a rhythmical pressure and my state of arousal increases proportionately to each movement you make. I am so aware of your strong body offering support, with one hand offering indescribable pleasure whilst the other offers fear and restraint. All tension is now transformed into totally enthralling sexual pleasure.

Lost in this bright place of the purely physical I struggle for a moment to interpret your whispered words “Its time little one. Trust me, I wont leave you”.

Your hand around my neck begins to tighten its hold, whilst your other arm holds me firmly around the waist, pulling me closer into your body. My arousal does not diminish but heightens as I realise I can no longer breath. I feel waves of orgasm build in response to this most intimate of situations, as if my body is unaware of or rejoicing in its imminent destruction. As the fire races along nerve endings, causing muscles to spasm in sheer ecstasy the need to breath becomes more urgent.

I feel my knees begin to buckle as I am no longer able hold myself upright. Your supporting arm tightens around my waist, but instead of taking my weight and holding me in position you gently lower yourself to your knees with me. I still don’t panic as my need to breath causes my heart to labour and my lungs to burn. Sexual stimulation, deliciously orgasmic pain and acceptance all combine to prevent fear from overwhelming me as I realise that my body cannot stand this assault for much longer. Sensations begin to recede leaving only darkness and awareness of your indomitable hand tight around my neck taking the last few seconds of my life. As darkness finally destroys even that last contact between us my final thought is one of almost gratitude that you stayed with me as you promised.

Should anyone chance to glance into the room at this moment they would assume that they are witnessing a man cradling his sleeping lover in protective arms. Only the veins standing out in stark relief on the forearm of the hand around my neck demonstrates the reality.

We remain locked together in this embrace for a few minutes longer, as you ensure that you task is completed. Once satisfied you relax the grip of your now aching hand and gently brush away the few strands of golden hair that have once again fallen across my face. You can now complete the relevant documentation to indicate that the execution has been completed if not quite as instructed.