Message-ID: <26177asstr$968011807@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: corp.supernews.com!not-for-mail From: mistressLiza@TABASCOnetscape.net (Ms. Liza) X-Original-Message-ID: <39b21b75.5966000@news.corecom.net> Subject: {ASSM} Liza's Fury 1 (nc/Fm) Date: Sun, 3 Sep 2000 16:10:07 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, dennyw This is fantasy. It is a revenge story and it contains sex, violence and eventual death. If this is too much for you, then delete the file and go away. If you are under the age of consent where you live, or it is against any law or statute where you reside, to read or obtain such materiel, then delete the file and do not read any further. *Ahem* Let me begin... My recently ex'd lover called and wanted to stop by. This was just what I had been waiting for. 'For old time's sake' I said.....letting him think it was to be his "CYA" fuck. My hands never even trembled when I put the cuffs around his wrists. The cuffs were custom made by a friend of mine. Very clever make...he never even noticed the power pack. God, I felt the power of the predator, and I liked it. I played with him slowly, relishing the coldness I felt in my once-broken heart. In his innocence, he let me cuff his ankles together. His eyes glowed with anticipation as I strapped on my dildo. With a fistful of hair, I guided his lips to my rubber cock. For a moment, I felt a nostalgic tenderness when his eyes met mine. He knew exactly what I liked to see when I made him blow me, and he was trying his best to please me for this farewell fuck. I found this amusing and stepped back. With one tap of my 'watch', the confused look on his face was replaced with one of fear as he realized his situation. We both knew enough about electricity to know that he was only alive at my whim. The cuffs packed plenty of juice, and with the contacts being on each wrist, the electricity would travel straight through his heart. It was easy then to tie him down to the table I had in my living room. He could barely breathe, with his head strapped facedown, mashed against the vinyl headrest. I briefly considered a gag, but decided I would rather hear his screams. After all, that's what all the preparations were for... my enjoyment of the punishment of this little bitch that used to be mine (and would be mine again, but this time without any considerations or rules.) Leather straps that he himself had attached to the table so many years ago held him perfectly still. He had no way to escape, no way to struggle. I could hear his begging; I could imagine his garbled words from the muffled sounds coming from where his face was. I could smell his fear as my heels clicked across the wooden floor, that same fear changing to the stench of terror when he realized the tool tickling him was a very sharp, very large needle. Then I did that which was 'off limits' during our fairy-tale romance, and pierced him. But no, I didn't pierce his sac or his bitch clitty... I pierced his ankles. Put a large steel ring in each one, and welded them shut. I unstrapped his head, then listened to his useless threats, his overdue begging, and finally, his resigned sobbing while I sipped wine, letting the cold realization of what had transpired and where it would lead run through me. When the wine bottle was half empty and his sobbing had turned to moans, I offered him a drink from my glass. In a pitiful display of defiance, he turned his head away. "No!!!.. we left behind consensual when you agreed to wear my cuffs, you stupid little bitch. Now when I want you to drink, you will drink." With that, I emptied the wine bottle into the enema sack. The nozzle I sleeted was huge, one that I had only threatened him with during our love affair. It has a ring that pumps up to hold it in place, and can be unscrewed to function as a plug. I used the blood from his ankles to lube it before I shoved it in his bitch hole. Grabbing a fistful of hair, I pulled his head back and put the enema bag under his face. Being at the same level as his ass, it wouldn't fill him up until he lowered his head. A piece of duct tape secured it to the table, so that no matter how he tried, there was no way it would move from where it was. He held his head up straining his back, which made his ankles hurt even more. This, I found terribly funny. The wine would deaden the pain, so this 'torture' was actually a kindness on my part. I waited until my patience ran out, and then duct taped his mouth shut. The fear in his eyes was worth every ounce of heartache he had put me through. For him, an enema induced nausea as well as a hardon, so the tape was a blatant disregard for his life. 'Nite, Elvis...' I had taunted him when I flipped of the light and walked out the room. I left him there in the dark...his face a millimeter above the enema bag... his head held up by taunt muscles that he could feel in his bleeding ankles. In the shower, the swirl of his blood rinsing from my body made me aware of how deep into this I was. My mind and body was charged from the scene I had seemingly watched floating several feet above my body. While the evening's events had been planned out and the supplies purchased in advance, it still had the aura of a fantasy. He would remain with me until he died, to serve as my unwilling slave. With his ankles hobbled and the chains welded on, there was no way he could escape his punishment. And it would be at least a week before he would be able to limp his way around the house to serve me in any meaningful sense. There was no way he could escape. My home isn't the drive-up kind in the summer, but in the winter a person with a healthy body could easily freeze to death if they attempted to hike out. The machine we rode in on was rigged not to run without knowing the secret; not that it was an issue...with the hobbling, there was no way he could straddle it to ride out. And the Arctic winter lasts a long time... I cleaned him up before I went to bed, and even put some salve and bandages on his bleeding ankles, so he wouldn't bleed on my carpet and so that the wound would heal. Took off his duct tape gag and kissed him softly on his forehead after giving him a sleeping pill. But I left him with his ass full, tied to a table in my living room. And I slept on a tear free pillow that night, and many nights after. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+