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Posted: 21-Jun-2012 - 7 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
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The Journal of My Hanging

By Maryann Thompson

Addendum by Hangman

 

June 1

 

                Oh my God!  I did it!  I just told him I want him to hang me!  Oh fuck!  Am I out of my mind?  Ever since I saw a man get hanged in a movie when I was twelve years old, I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind.  I keep wondering what it would be like to be standing there with a rope around my neck waiting for the trap door to fall out from under me and to feel the noose seize around my neck and start choking me.  What would it be like to know in advance that you’re going to die on such and such a day at such and such a time?  What would it be like to sit in a cell waiting for it to happen?  What would it be like to stand there perfectly healthy, my heart and mind racing, my breathing fast as I try to take in as much air as I can before the noose chokes off my breathing?  Perfectly healthy one minute and seconds later, dying. 

            I’ve been trying to hook up with a guy to do it to me ever since I turned eighteen.  A couple weeks ago, I started exchanging messages with this guy on a website called Dark Fetish Network.  He calls himself Hangman.  He says he can do it and he’s been looking for a girl.  He made me send him a couple naked pictures.  I guess he liked what he saw because he said he’d do it, and he warned me that once I agreed to it, there wouldn’t be any backing out.  I don’t want to back out.  I’ve been dreaming about this and playing it out over and over in my head since I was twelve, and now I get to do it.  I’ve read so much about it, I can’t wait.  Oh fuck!  I hope I get that really huge orgasm at the end.  I want to go out cumming my ass off.   That’s going to be so cool.   The last thing I’ll feel is my pussy going nuts. 

            I’m scared shitless.  I mean, I’m not stupid.  I know I’m going to end up dead, but it will be worth it if this turns out to be even half the experience I think it’s going to be.  I mean, my life isn’t all that great when you stop to think about it.  I’m just some nobody who’s never going to be anything special.  I wasn’t that great in school.  I don’t have any special talents.  I’m never going to be rich or famous.  So what does that leave?  I fall in love with some guy and get married.  A couple kids.  He’ll probably be fucking his secretary while I ferry the kids around to soccer games.  Maybe he’ll divorce me, or I’ll leave him.  What then?  More of the same with some other guy?  I get old and watch my body falling apart like my grandmother is doing now.  Arthritis.  Half blind.  Going senile.  No thanks.  I’m not going out lying in my own shit in some nursing home bed.  I’m going out cumming my ass off.

            God, I wish he’d message me back with the final arrangements.  Final.  Oh fuck, this really is final if he comes through for me. 

 

June 2

 

                No word from Hangman yet.  I didn’t even see him on DFN today, and I’ve been checking it all day.  Doesn’t he realize how strung out I am over this?  Come on, Hangman.  Don’t keep me waiting.  I’m liable to get cold feet and back out of this.  I’m already having second thoughts about it.  Did he find someone hotter than me who wants him to hang her?  I told him if he’d do it, once I’m with him, he can do anything he wants to me as long as I’m alive and healthy when he puts the rope around my neck.  Since he wanted naked pictures, I figure he’ll probably want to fuck me first.  That’s cool.  I haven’t done that a lot, but it’s not like I’m a virgin.  Sex hasn’t been all that hot for me.  Billy Jameison just doesn’t seem to know how to make it work for me, so fuck him.  Maybe it will be hotter fucking a guy who’s going to kill me.  I saw a picture on DFN of a guy fucking a girl while he was hanging her.  That would be so hot.  If he does me that way, it would probably take some pressure off my neck when he lifts me up enough to get me onto his cock, so I’d probably last longer, and getting fucked while I’m hanging should guarantee I’ll have that big orgasm at the end. 

            I’m writing this on my laptop.  I’m planning on taking it with me and making entries in here right up to the last minute.  Maybe I’ll ask him to publish everything I write on DFN so people there will get an idea of what it’s like for a girl to go through the whole process of hanging- making the choice to do it, finding the right guy to do it, going to him and then waiting for him to do it, and going through whatever else he decides to do to me before he puts the rope around my neck and drops me. 

God, I hope he doesn’t tie my legs.  I want my hands tied behind my back.  I need to feel the helplessness, and I don’t want to be able to try to grab the noose and pull it away from my throat.  I do want to be able to kick, though.  My air dance.  I hope he videotapes me and puts it on DFN.  Before he hangs me, we could shoot a scene of him taking me down and reviving me so no one will think he really hanged me to death.  

            Oh Christ, why hasn’t he messaged me to let me know what’s next?

 

June 3

 

                It’s all set!  Oh fuck!  It’s going to happen!  He sent me a message to meet his private jet at an airport near here.  Christ!  He must be rich!  No wonder he’s not afraid of getting his ass I trouble for killing me.  Rich people can get away with all kinds of shit.  Tomorrow morning, I have to meet his plane.  He said that once I step onto the plane, I’ll be his prisoner headed to my execution.  There won’t be any turning back, no matter if I change my mind or not.  When I get on the plane, I’m as good as dead.  Oh holy fuck!  I can’t believe I’m doing this!  I’m so fucking nervous, I tossed my breakfast the minute I read his message.  I don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep this bottled up inside me and not let my parents know I’m up to something. 

            After I cleaned up and calmed down a little, I messaged him back and told him I’d be there.  I know where the airport is he told me to be at.  I’m sitting here reading his message over and over, and I’ve been masturbating like crazy ever since.  I’m having the wildest orgasms.  You wouldn’t believe what it feels like.  Billy Jameison never got me off like this. 

            I asked Hangman how long I’ll have after I get there before he does it.  He said it won’t be right away, but he didn’t give me a definite time either.  He says it will be more exciting for me if I don’t know when it’s going to happen until he takes me to the gallows and does it.  That way, every time he comes for me, I’ll be thinking this time is going to be it.  I guess I know now that he’s planning on fucking me.  If he wasn’t, he’d probably do it the minute we get back to his place.  Oh shit!  I just realized he might want to fuck me in the ass.  I told him I’d let him do anything.  Fuck!  I hope he doesn’t want that.  I let Billy do me that way once, and it hurt like a sonofabitch.  I nearly beat the crap out of him after he got off and pulled out of me.  Too late to back out now.  Besides, a little pain in my ass is probably the least of my worries.  I mean, I’m not stupid enough to think that getting hanged to death by my neck isn’t going to hurt.

            I’ve read stuff.  They say your lungs feel like they’re on fire.  The rope is crushing your windpipe and leaves a hell of a burn mark because you can’t help struggling against it.  Someone said your head feels like it’s going to explode.  Fuck!  Why do I want to do this?  I gotta be nuts.  I wonder if you feel your heart stop beating?

 

June 4

 

            I’m at the airport.  Fuck, I’m really doing this.  I can’t believe I didn’t have a massive panic attack yesterday.  I couldn’t sleep a wink last night.  My pussy is sore from all the masturbating I’ve been doing.  I got up and showered and all that shit this morning and put on my Burger King uniform, but I changed out of it as soon as I found a deserted parking lot to stop at.  My folks must be totally zoned out.  I don’t think they have any idea that anything unusual is going on in my life.  What’s left of my life, I should say.  I’m never going to see them again. 

            Where’s that damned plane?  I wonder how much time I have left before he does it?  How long will he keep me around, and what does he have planned for me before he finally kills me?  I’ve been wondering about that ever since he messaged me to be here to catch his plane.  I don’t see him keeping me around much longer than a week or so.  Maybe two at the most.  I mean, he must get off on hanging girls big time to be willing to risk getting caught and ending up in jail or getting executed himself.   I wonder if the state he lives in has the death penalty.  Has he killed before?  He told me he’s hanged other girls, but he wouldn’t tell me whether or not he let them down in time. 

            Oh shit!  What am I going to do if he lets me down before I’m dead?  I blew off my job at Burger King, and my parents will be pissed as hell if I just disappear for a week or so and then show up again with a rope burn around my neck.  They’d have me in the nuthouse. 

            There’s a plane coming in!  Oh fuck!  Is this it?  Oh God, please let me be strong!  Is it him?  Small white jet.  Red stripe down the side.  Oh fuck!  It’s him!

 

*****

 

            I can’t believe I did it!   I’m as good as dead.  He told me there wouldn’t be any turning back once I boarded his plane.  He wasn’t playing around either.  I thought my heart was going to explode when I went aboard the plane.  The minute I was inside, he handcuffed me and ball-gagged me and cuffed one of my ankles to a seat.  I’m really this guy’s prisoner.  It was a pretty long flight.  I have no idea where I am, except locked in a room somewhere.  There’s a window, but it’s a long way to the ground, and there’s no one around as far as the eye can see.  Well, Maryann, I hope you’re really sure you wanted this, because it sure looks like you’re going to get it.  I can almost feel the noose closing in around my neck already.  Oh shit!  Somebody’s coming.

 

*****

 

            I was right.  He’s going to fuck me.  He just did, and man, what a fuck!  Billy Jameison, eat your heart out.  You could never do me like he did if your life depended on it.  He never said a word to me.  He just came in, locked the door behind him and pushed me down onto my knees.  I was already naked.  He took away my clothes the minute he brought me to this room.   Something tells me I’ve worn the last clothing I’ll ever have on.  I knew what he wanted.  It’s what all guys want.  He took out my ball gag and shoved his cock in my mouth.  Christ, it’s huge.  It’s at least twice as long as Billy’s and half again as thick.  There was no way that thing was going down my throat, I thought.  I was wrong.  I don’t know how I managed not to puke.  He grabbed my head and fucked my face, and that huge cock was going up and down my throat. 

            I must be one huge masochist.  I mean, I let him bring me here knowing he intends to hang me to death, and I know that’s not going to be quick and painless.  He told me right from the first that he uses a short drop so that the girl takes as long as possible to die.  That’s the way I wanted it.  And then, I was actually getting off while he was fucking my throat.  I came!  Do you believe that?  And when he pulled it out of my throat and threw me down onto the bed, he shoved it into me as hard and deep as he could, and I started cumming like a race horse.  He gave it to me as hard and fast as he could, and it still took him forever to get off, and when he came, Christ, it felt like Niagara Falls shooting into me. 

            Oh fuck!  I’m not on any birth control!  He’s probably going to knock me up if he hasn’t already.  It’s not like I’m going to live long enough to even begin to show that I’m pregnant, but still, when I decided to do this, I never thought I might be taking someone else out with me.  A baby!  Wow!  Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now.  My pussy and my throat are both sore as hell, but I tell you what, even if he never hangs me, getting fucked like that made this worth my trouble. 

 

June 5

 

                Oh man, am I sore.  I ache all over, especially my throat and pussy and ass.  I was right.  He did me in the ass.  Oh, fuck!  You talk about pain!  I’m exhausted, too.  I mean, I didn’t sleep at all the night before I had to meet his plane.  Nerves, big time.  And last night, every time I started to drift off to sleep, he was back and fucking me again.  I may not live long enough to hang.  This guy is going to fuck me to death. 

            This morning, he brought me down to breakfast.  He hooked my ankle cuff to a chair and let me eat.  The food wasn’t bad.  Then he took my laptop and checked it out, and he read everything I’ve written in my journal.  I was afraid he would be pissed and wouldn’t let me have it back, but he liked it.  He said I can keep writing.  He insisted that I keep putting my thoughts and feelings down, right up to the end, when he comes to take me to the gallows.  He even said he’d finish it for me.  After he hangs me, he’s going to tell about how I get through it, and he promised to publish it on DFN.

            Then he told me how it’s going to be for me, sort of.  He let me know I can expect him to come to my room and fuck me whichever way he wants whenever he feels like it.  I expected that.  The man does love to fuck.  He wouldn’t tell me what else he has planned for me, but he did let me know that he’s going to do other stuff to me besides hang me.  He wouldn’t say what. 

            After breakfast, he took me down into a cellar and showed me where I’m going to die.  He’s got a real fucking gallows!  It’s not just a rope thrown over a ceiling beam or attached to a hook in the ceiling.  It’s a real gallows, trap door and all.  I freaked.  He made me stand on the trap door and he put the noose around my neck, and I swear to God, I almost shit myself when he put his hand on the lever that releases the trap door.  Then he took the noose off me and made me step back off the trap door, and he pulled the lever.  I fucking came.  A few seconds earlier, I had been standing on it with my neck in the noose.  If he had pulled it then, I’d have been hanging.  I could almost feel the rope jerk tight around my neck.  God, I wanted it to happen. 

            The trap door is a two door setup.  The gallows floor is only about three feet above the floor, so I guess he used two doors so that there’s a wide enough hole in the floor to allow the condemned- meaning me- lots of room to kick and swing around without getting her feet back up onto the gallows floor.  The condemned.  I really am condemned, and seeing that gallows I’m going to die on really got to me.  Then he put the noose around my neck again, but he loosened the other end of the rope so that it couldn’t hang me.  He took me back down to the floor level and bent me over the edge of the gallows and fucked me from behind.  While he was doing me, he kept pulling the noose tight around my neck choking me.  He must know how much a girl can take before she passes out because, every time I felt like I was about to go out, he loosened the noose and let me breathe a little.  He kept fucking me, though, and pretty soon, he had it tight around my neck again.  Christ, if the orgasms he gave me then are any indication of what I’m in for when he hangs me, he can take me right back down there and do me now.

 

June 6

 

            More fucking, but I’m not complaining.  I’ve got, at best, a week or so left to get all the fucking a woman would normally get in a lifetime.  I know I’m never going to get a whole lifetime’s worth of fucking before he hangs me, but I’ll take everything he gives me, including in the ass.  He’s done my ass a couple more times.  It still hurts like a bitch, but not nearly as bad as that first one.  I actually got off on it the last time he did it to me that way. 

            Today, he let me know that I’ll have a little bit of a notice before he hangs me.  There are some preparations we have to do first, he says.  He told me that I’ll be getting an enema before he does it.  The day before it happens, I’ll get a light breakfast and lunch, and that will be the last food I get to eat.  He says he’s going to hang me in the evening, but the morning it happens, he’ll give me the enema.  It’s the heavy duty kind they give to people who are getting a colonoscopy.  I remember my grandfather got one a couple years ago.  They gave him these pills to take- a big overdose of a laxative, and then he had to drink an amazing amount of Gatorade.  Then he spent the rest of the day on the john.  He said he never knew a human body could hold so much shit. 
            I asked Hangman why I had to do that.  He said it would make sure I didn’t shit myself while I was hanging.  He said that, to be safe, he’d shove a butt plug up my ass before he does me, too, and to make sure I don’t piss myself, he’s going to put a catheter into me and attach it to a bag he’ll strap to one of my legs to catch my piss.  I don’t have Internet access here in case I try to have somebody try to find me and save me, so I had to ask him what a catheter is.  It’s a skinny tube that they stick into a woman’s pee hole or a man’s cock and push it up through them until it gets up into their bladder.  Then someone who is bedfast or who can’t make it to the bathroom can let it go and it will go out of them through the tube into a collecting bag.

            I don’t think I have to tell you I’m not looking forward to that at all.  I never even stopped to think about all that stuff.  I didn’t even know that a person being executed by hanging or any other method will often piss or shit until Hangman told me. They even put diapers on them sometimes to make sure they don’t make a mess.  I’m not at all crazy about what he’s going to do to me to make sure I don’t shit or piss myself, but the last thing I want is for my ass or bladder to cut loose on me while I’m hanging.  I do not want the last thing I smell to be my own shit, and when he cuts me down, I do not want to end up lying in a pile of my own shit. 

June 7

 

            He whipped me today.  He took me down to where the gallows is and tied my hands together and tied them up over my head to this pole.  I thought he was going to fuck my ass again, but he put a blindfold on me, and then I stood there waiting for a minute or so wondering what the hell he was going to do to me.  And then, the first lash hit me.  Oh mother fucking Christ!  It was a cat o nine tails, he told me after he gave me several lashes.  I lost track somewhere up in the twenties, and it kept on going for quite a while after that.  It’s a short whip with a lot of strands that sting like a sonofabitch and leave hideous welts all over your ass and back.  I was crying and screaming and begging him to stop.  The worst part was being blindfolded and not knowing when they’re coming.  They just hit you out of nowhere, and he wasn’t keeping any kind of rhythm.  He did that deliberately to keep me off my guard.  He’d give me a couple quick hard ones, and then, just when I’m thinking maybe that’s it, wham!  There’s another one.  Then he gives me a couple lighter ones, or brushes the strands across my flaming ass and then whales me with it again. 

            Then the sonofabitch grabbed me by the hips and fucked me in the ass.  It was the first time he did my ass without any lube.  Oh fuck!  I mean, it’s already on fire from the whipping, and now, he just spits on his cock and shoves it in there, and then he’s fucking me as hard and fast as he can.  I fucking passed out.  The pain was worse than anything I ever felt before.  I couldn’t believe I came just before I passed out.  I remember hoping I was dying.  I have welts all up and down my back from my shoulders to my knees.  I look like a fucking red and white zebra. 

 

June 8

 

            More fucking.  Hangman isn’t a young guy.  He must be in his fifties.  He’s obviously in amazing physical condition, but how the hell does a man of that age do it?  At first, I was trying to keep track of how many times he fucks me before he gets tired of it and hangs me, but I lost track a couple days ago.  I’m getting laid at least four or five times a day, and we’re not talking five minute fucks here.  He lasts forever, and he comes like a high pressure fire hose.  Believe me.  He’s been fucking my throat from the first, but today for the first time, he didn’t pull out and shove it into my pussy or my ass.  For the first time, he fucked my throat until he came.  Oh my God!  I thought he was going to drown me.  It was all I could do to keep swallowing it on down into my belly until he was done.  I felt like I’d just had a full meal.  Maybe I’m weird, but I like the taste of his cum. 

            I keep wondering how much longer I’m going to be here before he does it.  It’s been almost a week.  Every time he takes me down to the dining room to let me eat, I keep wondering if that’s the last food I’m going to get.  It’s weird.  I’m not in a big hurry to die.  The longer I wait for it to happen, the more I keep wondering if I didn’t make a huge mistake.  I still want to experience it, though, all the way through to the end, but I can’t help wondering if it’s really going to be worth sacrificing my whole life to do it.  I just turned nineteen a couple weeks ago.  My grandmother is over eighty and still going strong.  If I hadn’t done this, I’d probably have another sixty years or more.  As it is, I probably don’t have more than a week left at the most, and given what he’s put me through over the past few days, God knows what the rest of my time is going to be like. 

 

*****

           

            He whipped me again tonight.  Oh fuck!  Why can’t he just hang me and get it over with?  My ass and back and the backs of my legs are so sore, it hurts to sit down.  At least he didn’t fuck me in the ass this time.  He used the blindfold again, though.  You can’t imagine how terrifying it is to be totally in the dark and not know when or where the next lash is going to hit you, and they hurt so bad.   Oh God, please don’t let him whip me before he hangs me or while I’m hanging.  Since I was twelve, hanging has been the entire focus of my life.  Now that it’s going to happen, don’t let him ruin it by whipping me or finding some other way to distract me from the experience of dying with my neck in a noose.  I really need that to be my sole focus when it happens.  No other distractions. 

            Well, maybe one last fuck. 

 

June 9

 

            I hate sitting here waiting.  I’ve never been any good at waiting.  I’m probably the most impatient person in the world, and now, I just have to sit here in this room and write in my journal and wait for him to come in and fuck me or take me down to the dungeon- yeah, it really is a dungeon down there where the gallows is waiting for me.  He told me this is some old castle, and they really used to torture and kill people down there.  So I guess that means we’re in Europe somewhere.  He had the windows in the plane covered, so I couldn’t see that we went over any ocean, but I knew it was a pretty long flight. 

            I’m going to die hanging from a real gallows in a real dungeon in a real castle somewhere in Europe.  I couldn’t have planned this any better if I’d tried.  It all sounds kind of romantic, doesn’t it?  But I’m scared shitless.  I guess I knew all along that I would be, but now that it’s finally real and the clock is ticking down, I don’t know if I have the guts to go through with it.  Not that I have any say in the matter.  I’m going to hang to my death when Hangman decides he’s ready to do it, and there’s no getting around that.  Ever since I was twelve, though, I’ve pictured myself going bravely to the gallows like the guy in that movie did.  Now, I’m scared to death he’s going to have to chain me up and drag me down there, and I’m going to be crying and fighting him and screaming my guts out right up to the instant the platform drops and the noose silences me for good.  Oh fuck, I don’t want it to be like that.  I just hope I can be strong enough to do it the way I want it to happen.

 

June 10

 

                I’m freaking out big time.  I watched a girl die today.  I had no idea he had other girls here.  I guess she was like me, except her fetish was that she wanted to die by being impaled in her ass on a thick stake.  She met Hangman on DFN, just as I did, and when she revealed her fantasy to him, he told her he could make it happen.  He told me he never had anyone jump at his offer as fast as she did, so he sent his plane for her and brought her here, and today, she got her wish.   It was horrible.  He fucked her first.  She was a virgin, and she gave him her cherry in exchange for his impaling her.  He said she was happy to let him fuck her in the ass or throat, but she had wanted to die with her virginity intact, but he had held out, telling her that was the price he wanted from her for taking the risk of impaling her and having to dispose of her body without getting caught.  She hesitated a couple days, he told me, but when she realized she had little chance of finding anyone else who would be willing to do her, she agreed to let him have her virginity.  He could fuck her one time just before he impaled her, she agreed. 

            Like me, she didn’t know what she was letting herself in for.  He fucked her senseless.  By the time he finally got off on her, she could barely stand.  He had a two and a half inch thick wooden post anchored in the floor.  It tapered to a very sharp tip about seven feet above the floor.  At first, I couldn’t figure out how he was ever going to get her up onto it, but after he had her wrists bound together, he took a remote control and pushed a button on it, and a line with a hook on it dropped down from the ceiling directly over the stake. 

The girl was still kind of out of it as he looped the rope binding her wrists onto the hook and pressed the button on his remote.  I could see blood stains on her thighs and pussy lips- her virgin blood.  Then I saw her face.  There was a kind of crazed, happy look on it.  I guess she was thrilled that she was finally experiencing her dream.  The hoist raised her far enough to let her crotch clear the tip of her spike, and then Hangman pushed another button, and as she slowly descended , he grasped her legs and made sure the tip of the spike entered her ass.  He stopped her, leaving her hanging there in midair with maybe an inch of the highly polished stake into her. 

She started wiggling around, making the stake move in her.  He lowered her another inch or two, and right away, the look on her face was changing.  Her eyes  opened wide as she felt the sharpened, polished tip go deeper into her.  I couldn’t understand her when she spoke.  I think she was Italian.  Reddish hair.  Slender, Nice little breasts.  Fair skin.  Very beautiful.  She just spoke a couple words.  Later, Hangman told me she told him to do it.  He pressed the button and let her descend several more inches.  As the part of the shaft going into her broadened, her eyes got wider and wider, and then the tip must have gotten far enough up into her that it started doing some damage.  She started squealing and squirming and crying out in Italian. 

It didn’t take a doctor to know she was in some serious pain.  I know practically no Italian, but “no” is no in any number of languages, and there’s no doubt in my mind that she was begging him to stop.  When I realized how he was going to kill her, I made a point of noting where the tip of her spike was against the background so I could tell how far it had gone up into her.  She was flailing her legs around and trying to press her feet against the pole to use it as leverage to push herself up off it, but the pole was highly polished.  She couldn’t get enough of a grip on it to do herself any good.  I could tell the tip was up into her past her belly button almost to her breasts.  It had to have ripped through her colon and must have been up into her stomach. 

The broadest part of the shaft was into her now, and Hangman was having to let her down a few inches at a time to make sure she stayed vertical and kept the post inside her as her weight pushed her down onto it.  She was very slender, and she couldn’t have weighed very much, so she wasn’t sinking down onto it very quickly.   The further up into her it went, the more she squealed and struggled and begged him to stop.  I don’t know how it happened, but it must have missed her heart and lungs and went from her stomach up through her esophagus into her throat.  Suddenly, she wasn’t squealing anymore.  She was still very much alive and in horrible pain, but the shaft had gotten so far up into her throat that it cut off her ability to cry out. 

I know that girl must have been into pain in a big way to have thought that was the way she wanted to go out, but the look on her face with that shaft so far through her told me she couldn’t possibly have experienced or imagined anything that severe before.  As thick as the shaft was, it must have ripped her esophagus and throat apart as it went through her.  I wonder if she knew it was going to go clear through her and that she would still be alive and conscious when the bloody tip came out of her mouth.  It was so gross, I nearly puked.  The tip of the spike was covered in blood and God knows what.  Blood was dripping down over her cheeks from her mouth.  Blood streaked down the pole from where it had gone into her ass. 

It took her forever to die.  Most of the night.  She was conscious most of that time.  Hangman made me stay with him and watch until she was dead.  He fucked me in front of her while she was still conscious and could see us.  I saw something in his eyes that has probably been there all along, but I never noticed it till then.  A hardness.  There was not the slightest bit of concern in his eyes for that girl who was dying in horrible agony right before us as he fucked me, and I don’t expect I’ll see any concern or sympathy when it’s my turn. 

 

June 11

 

 

            I’m still freaking out over watching that Italian girl get impaled.  I can’t imagine why anyone would want to die that way.  But I guess most people wouldn’t understand why I want to hang to death.  I always thought I was some kind of freak until I joined DFN and started finding other people like me.  Lots of them.  I guess there are just some people in the world that something has flipped a switch inside them and sent them off on a different course than what everybody else takes.  For me, it was seeing that guy hang in that movie when I was twelve.  I know it was faked.  I’m not that stupid.  Besides, I saw the same guy die in a couple other movies after that one.  But for me, at twelve, it was so real that I haven’t been able to get it out of my head ever since, and now I’m about to experience it for real myself. 

There won’t be any safety harness.  No one is going to let me down before it’s too late.  Once that trap door drops away from beneath me and the noose goes tight against my neck, it will just be a matter of a few minutes before I’m dead- probably even fewer minutes before I lose consciousness and the experience is essentially over for me.  I wonder how long it will take for me to pass out?  How much longer before my heart stops?  I read somewhere it can take up to twenty minutes.  I wonder if you can feel anything happening to you after you pass out.  I don’t think so.  Do you dream? 

He took me back down to the dungeon and whipped me again today.  Again, I was blindfolded and couldn’t see when the lashes were coming.  God, I hate that.  At least he told me that’s the last whipping I’ll get.   Thank God, but does that mean he’s going to hang me soon?  Oh fuck!  Am I ready?

The impaled girl’s body was gone from the stake she died on.  Everything was cleaned up.  You couldn’t tell anyone had ever died with that thing stuck up through their guts.  I wonder what he did with her body?  He wouldn’t tell me, and he won’t say what he’s going to do with me after I’m dead, either.  I don’t even want to think about it. 

After he whipped me and fucked me in the ass again, Hangman stretched me out on my back on this table he had down there in the dungeon, and he had my ankles tied to either side of the table to keep my legs spread apart, and he pulled my hands up over my head and tied them off at the other end, and then he brought out this little metal box and some wires and what looked like a chrome dildo.  There were some dials and control knobs on the front of the box and places on the back to plug things into it.  He plugged a wire into the back of the box and then he plugged the other end of the wire into the back end of the dildo thing and shoved it up my pussy.   There were straps and a belt attached to it that he used to secure it so it couldn’t come out of me.  Stupid me thought it was some kind of industrial strength vibrator that he was going to use to give me a huge buzz.  I guess I was sort of right. 

Next, the sonofabitch took these little needle things and stuck them through my nipples.  Oh fuck, did that hurt!  Then he plugged two more wires to the back of his metal box and attached one to each of the needles in my nipples.  I knew the needles were too skinny to be vibrators.  I was just beginning to figure out what he was going to do to me when he plugged the box into a wall socket and turned it on.  At first, it was like this pleasant tingling sensation going through me from my tits down into my pussy. 

My nipples were already erect from getting the needles stuck through them.  When the current started flowing, they got even harder fast.  Then he turned it up a little.  It was a little uncomfortable then, and scary.  I mean, I had no idea how much power that thing could put out.  But it got me off.  My body was flopping around on that table like a fish on the dock.  Then he turned it up some more.  Oh fucking Christ!  I thought the whip and getting fucked in the ass hurt.  It was like two lines of fire from my nipples down to my pussy, and I kept cumming. 

He shut it off.  The minute I started to get my breath back, he turned it on again, low power at first, but the minute he had me cumming again, the power shot up again, and it was like I was on fire inside.  I don’t know how many times he did that to me.  As usual, I lost track of the count because the experience was too intense to allow me to concentrate.  All I know is it hurt like a sonofabitch every time he hit me with the juice, and it made me cum like crazy, and when he was done and he pulled the needles out of my nipples and took the dildo electrode out of my pussy, I couldn’t stand up.  My legs were like rubber.  He had to fireman-carry me back up to my room or cell or whatever you want to call it.  I hope the fact that he took the needles out of my nipples means he’s not going to do that to me again.  When he got me back to my room, he dropped me onto the bed and climbed on me and fucked me, and then he left me lying there sprawled on my bed, his cum dripping out of my pussy onto the sheet. 

 

 

June 12

 

            I think my time is about up.  Breakfast this morning was a single egg and a slice of toast and a glass of juice.  He usually feeds me more than that.  I remember he told me that when he decides to do it, the day before, I’ll only get a light breakfast and lunch and no dinner, and the next morning, I’ll get the enema and hang that night.  Oh God, if I’m right, I’ve got less than two days to live.  Am I ready to do this?  Shit!  I don’t think so, but I’m going to do it whether I’m ready or I want to or not.  Whether or not it happens went out of my hands the moment I stepped onto his plane.  I knew the minute he cuffed me and ball-gagged me that he wasn’t playing around.  I could see it in his eyes.  I was just as good as dead as if I’d stuck a gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger.  It was just going to take me a little longer to die. 

 

*****

            Oh fuck!  I think this is it!  Lunch was just as skimpy as breakfast.  Oh God, it’s going to happen tomorrow night.  I know it.  I asked him if he’s going to do it tomorrow.  I reminded him about what he’d said about me getting a small breakfast and lunch the day before he does it, but he wouldn’t tell me.  Shit!  I hate not knowing for sure.  But what would I do if he came right out and told me I’m going to die tomorrow night?  Do I really want to know that far in advance?  I can’t do anything about it.  All I can do is sit in this room and wonder what it’s going to be like, and I’ve been doing that every second he’s left me alone in here ever since I got here.  I’m so fucking scared now, my stomach is all tied up in knots.  I couldn’t eat dinner now even if he gave it to me.

*****

            No dinner.  Oh fuck, I knew it!  He came up to my room after he ate and he fucked me, and then he was laying over me with his cock still in me, and he told me.  It’s tomorrow.  Oh God!  Why did I get myself into this?  It’s so weird.  Now that I know it’s going to happen, I still want it just as bad as I always have, and I can’t wait to feel that noose around my neck, and I can’t wait to feel the trap door give way under me and feel the noose grab my neck, but Oh dear God, I’m scared out of my mind that it’s not going to be anything like I expected.  I just know I’m not going to be able to walk down there and let him tie my hands and put the noose around my neck the way I wanted to do it.  I’ll be so fucking scared, I’ll be on my knees begging him not to do it.  Oh Jesus, I don’t want it to be like that. 

            And what if there’s no big orgasm?  I’ll be giving up everything I could have been for absolutely nothing.  And what’s the big deal about that big fucking orgasm anyway?  I mean, he’s given me so many unbelievable orgasms already, so how much more powerful can that last big one be, and is it worth giving up my whole fucking life to get it?  Jesus!  Am I nuts or what?

            If there’s an afterlife, I’m in serious trouble.  How the fuck am I supposed to explain to St. Peter or whoever the fuck is there at the gate deciding who gets in that I got my ass hanged to death just so I could see what the fuck it was like and have a monster orgasm?  Oh Christ, I hope somebody up there has a fucking sense of humor, or my ass is toast.

            It’s not bad enough the sonofabitch is going to hang me to death tomorrow.  He’s already fucked me a couple times today, and he just came back up here a while ago and fucked me in the ass again.  I wonder if he’s going to keep that up all night, getting all the fucking he can out of me before the big day.  I don’t suppose he’ll be able to fuck me after I take those enema pills tomorrow.  My grandpa told me after he took them for his colonoscopy and drank the Gatorade, he was on the john every five minutes shitting his guts out.  I don’t suppose Hangman will want to risk getting shit on.  It definitely takes that man longer than five minutes to do me.  A lot longer. 

 

June 13

 

            June 13th.  Christ, you might fucking know he’d end up doing me on the 13th.  My big fucking lucky number.  I’m amazed it didn’t turn out to be a fucking Friday the 13th.  I’m so fucking scared I can’t see straight.  My nerves are a total disaster.  My hands are shaking so bad I can barely type.  It’s just so fucking bizarre that sometime tonight, I’m going to die.  I won’t be here tomorrow.  I’ll be rotting away in some unmarked grave somewhere I guess.  I don’t have any idea what he intends to do to get rid of my body after he hangs me, and I don’t really want to think about it. 

            It’s a good thing there’s a bathroom in my room.  He made me take those pills this morning for my enema, and he sat here and watched me down a couple liters of Gatorade, and I didn’t even get the last of the Gatorade down before I had to rush to the toilet.  Oh fuck!  My grandfather was right.  I couldn’t believe how much shit came out of me, even after he practically starved me yesterday. 

            There’s so much stuff I want to put in here on the last day of my life, and there’s so little time, and it doesn’t help that I have to go running back to the fucking toilet every five minutes, practically.  

            My brain is so fucking scrambled, I can’t think straight.  Where do I start?  Hell, I don’t know.  Am I sorry I did this?  Fuck yeah, I’m sorry.  I’m scared out of my fucking mind.  Would I do it again?  Knowing me, probably yeah.  I mean, as bad as it is knowing I’m going to die tonight, this is all part of the process, you know?  The fear and excitement?  Some smart guy said once that we’re never more alive than when our lives are on the line, and God was that guy ever right.  You wouldn’t believe what it’s like, and I don’t think I have the words to tell you.  I look out my window, and I see the same fucking thing I’ve seen ever since he locked me in here, but looking out there today, I’m seeing it like I’ve never seen it before.,  I’m picking up on so many little details that were just so what every other time I looked out there.  The way the morning sunlight plays across the fields.  The way the wind makes the grass move. 

            I turned on the radio he has in here, and there was an orchestra playing some classical symphony.  I’ve never been much of a fan of classical music, but I heard that symphony like I’ve never heard any other music before.  The way the instruments played off each other, and how their individual sounds all meshed to make the music sound so beautiful.  It made me cry. 

            A lot of things have made me cry today.  I’ll be sitting on the toilet shitting, and I’ll start bawling like a baby.  Speaking of toilets, sitting on one shitting my guts out is definitely not how I figured I’d be spending my last day on Earth, but guess what, folks.  I’ve been at it for hours, it seems.  Thank God it seems like I’m finally getting to the end of it, though.  I’m not having to run off to the can as often now, and everything that comes out of me is practically clear.  After all this time, I don’t see how there can possibly be anything left in me.  God, I could really use a pizza right now. 

            Don’t know if I could hold it down, though.  My nerves are still a wreck.  I wonder what’s going on in the world.  I haven’t seen or heard anything from the outside world except that symphony I listened to earlier since I got here.   I wonder what my parents think about me being gone?  Surely someone has found my car at that airport by now.  Nobody at home, my parents or friends knew anything about my hanging fetish or about DFN and Hangman.  All that stuff was on my laptop, which I brought with me.  They probably just figure I ran off with someone. 

            Hangman just came in and fucked me again.  Thank God I seem to be past the enema shits now.  He scared the fuck out of me when he came in.  I thought for sure he was ready to take me down to the dungeon and do it. 

            I don’t know why that movie got to me so much that it finally drove me to do what I’m about to do.  I guess it just happened along at the right time in my life when I was most impressionable and susceptible to something like that, and seeing it pushed all the right buttons and set me off on a tangent all my own.  I’ve seen that movie a couple times since, and the acting is so bad, and the hanging scene so fake, I can’t believe it grabbed me so hard when I was twelve, but it did, and in a few more hours, it’s going to have me for good. 

            I read somewhere once that a dying person goes through several emotional stages before they die.  I can’t remember all of them, but I do remember denial, anger and acceptance.  The article was talking about people at the natural end of their lives or dying of some disease, but I guess it applies to someone in my situation, too, because I think I finally hit the acceptance phase. 

            I mean, I’ve known since I stepped on that plane that I was going to die and there was nothing I could do about it once I made the choice to board the plane, and in a sense, I guess I sort of accepted my death them, but this is different.  The closer I get to the hour when he comes for me to take me down to the dungeon and put that noose around my neck, the more ready I feel like I am to let it happen.  Is that weird, or what?  I would have thought that the closer to it I got, the more panicked I’d be, and up until a little while ago, that’s the way it was.  I was sure he’d have to drag my ass down there and I’d be fighting him until he managed to get me noosed and my hands tied and yank the lever to drop me.  Now I know I’m going to be strong enough to do it the way I’ve wanted it to happen right from the start. 

            That doesn’t mean I won’t fight the noose once he drops me. I know we all have a will to live, and the minute I’m hanging, I know I’m going to have to go through all these stages again, but that’s okay.  I expected that.

            Hangman just came in and let me know it’s time to do it.  Oh wow!  My heart just jumped from my chest right up into my throat.  I didn’t expect that, but I’m ready.  I think.  Okay, let’s do this.  Good-bye Journal.

 

The Hangman’s Tale

 

            I promised Maryann that I’d write the final entry in her journal and publish it on DFN for her so that her friends there could know how she went out.  In a word, she was spectacular.  I’m sitting here in the dungeon where she died on my gallows.  Her body is still hanging there just a few feet from me.  So beautiful, even in death.  She was, without doubt, the most beautiful young woman it has ever been my pleasure to hang, and one of the bravest.  She put up a truly inspiring fight, and when the end was near for her, I’m absolutely certain she had an orgasm massively more potent than any of the ones I gave her having sex with her.  I’ve never seen a body twist and contort and shudder so powerfully that late into a hanging before.  I thought she was nearly unconscious when it hit her, but she came for at least two more minutes before her body went limp again.  She lasted much longer than I had expected her to.  The orgasm didn’t hit her until just after the five minute mark, and she didn’t fall still until after seven minutes.  Her heart stopped at 17:47. 

            I guess I should go back to the beginning and take you through her final moments from when I first entered her room and told her it was time for her to hang.  I never know what to expect when I go to a girl’s room and tell her it’s time for her to face whatever means of execution she has chosen for herself.  I do everything in my power to make sure that a young woman is absolutely certain that she wants to die in whatever way she chooses before I agree to accommodate her.  Still, even though a girl has chosen her means of death and put her life into my hands, there is nothing stopping her from changing her mind and wanting out of the arrangement.

            Of course, once I’ve brought a girl to my castle, I can’t very well risk letting her go knowing that in spite of my best efforts to keep her in the dark as to my identity and where I have brought her, she might have picked up on some little clue as to who I am or where I can be found.  That is why I make very clear to the young women who come to me that once they step onto my plane, there is no turning back.  Of course, many women over the years have had a change of heart and come to regret their decision, but they all knew, as Maryann did, that I could not and would not release them from our agreement.

            But this is Maryann’s Journal, and I am merely here to write her final chapter, not to justify my position.  As I said, I can never know what to expect from a girl when I go to her to let her know that it is time for her to face the fate she has chosen for herself.  Maryann faced it with strength and courage and a remarkable sense of calm.  Oh, I know she was frightened.  Anyone would have been, knowing they were facing what she was, but she was able to master her fears and summon the strength to walk with me to the dungeon to meet her destiny. 

            Before I took her from her room, I shackled her, wrists and ankles, as I do with every young woman at that time.  It is such an emotionally charged time in a young woman’s life, knowing that life is very nearly over and that the means of ending it will be difficult and painful to some degree.   I can’t risk having a woman try an escape and maybe manage to get out of the castle.  Maryann allowed me to shackle her without objection.  When I told her to, she walked out of her room and went as calmly as can be expected with me to the dungeon.  I could see that she was nervous and frightened, and like all the other women I have hanged, once I brought her into the dungeon, she couldn’t take her eyes off the noose that would end her life. 

            There were a couple unpleasantries that had to be taken care of before I could hang her.  I had told her I would be inserting a butt plug into her rectum to insure that she did not defecate during her hanging.  I do this with each woman I hang, even though the enema they have been given has almost certainly made the butt plug unnecessary.  It is just a little extra precaution that I like to take to make sure there are no accidents.  No woman wants to defecate while hanging.  The embarrassment would be too much to bear at such an emotionally charged time.  I use a rather large plug, I am afraid, and I cut the base off of it so that the entire plug can be pushed up into the woman’s rectum and not show in any of the videos I make. 

            Maryann cried out briefly when I inserted her butt plug.  It would have been a much more torturous procedure for her if I had not given her so much anal sex during the time she was with me to loosen her anal sphincter and make the plug’s insertion a little easier and less painful.  On a side note, Maryann was one of the few women who have come to take some pleasure from having anal sex with me.  I am, as she has mentioned, rather well endowed, and I require quite a lengthy and vigorous workout to achieve my climax, so most women find my efforts to loosen them up for their butt plugs not much to their liking.  That Maryann did come to have some pleasure from anal sex with me is another one of the many facets of her extraordinary personality that made her stay with me such a wonderful experience for me.

            She endured the insertion of her catheter through her urethra up into her bladder with the same dignity with which she accepted her butt plug.  Although she cried out with the pain of the plug’s insertion, she never once tried to struggle free of me.  It was the same with the catheter.  For a woman who hasn’t had to have a catheter inserted before and who is about to die, the nervousness of the moment makes it a difficult few moments.  As I said, though, Maryann endured it all with uncommon grace and dignity.  That done, I taped the collecting bag to her left thigh and inserted the catheter tube into the bag.  All that remained was to affix a self-adhesive wireless heart monitor sensor to her left breast just over her heart so that I would be able to know when the end had come for her.  I had the monitor receiver plugged into an amplifier so that she could hear her heartbeats as she hanged. 

            At this point, Maryann was still shackled.  I never remove a woman’s shackles until she is secured to whatever implement is about to take her life from her.  In Maryann’s case, I led her up onto the gallows and showed her where to stand.  I have footprints painted on the floor of the trap door to show the woman where to stand until it falls out from under her.  Maryann hesitated a moment, looked down at the trap door, then up at the noose.  She was trembling.  She took a deep breath and stepped onto the trap door and put her feet on the painted marks.  She didn’t resist as I released her wrists from the shackles and tied her hands behind her back.  Her eyes went wide as I grasped the rope and lowered it over her head.  I pulled her hair free of it and snugged it down tighter around her neck and moved it around until the knot was just in front of her left ear. 

            In a long drop hanging in which the intent is to have the noose snap the condemned’s neck at the end of her fall, the knot is usually placed behind the left ear.  This insures a sharper, cleaner snap of the neck at the instant the rope goes taut, and the condemned is almost always rendered immediately unconscious sparing them the agony of their body’s death throes.  Maryann wanted a short drop hanging, though, so that she would have a few moments to experience the hanging before she lost consciousness and died.  I placed the knot in front of her ear because I have found that this pulls the rope slightly away from the neck at that point and thereby allows the woman to breathe a bit more than she would be able to if the knot were placed anywhere behind her ears.  The fact that Maryann lasted just over seven minutes before she lost consciousness is ample evidence that my placement of the knot gives the young woman at least a few extra seconds, if not a couple minutes, to enjoy her hanging. 

            At this point, Maryann’s heart was racing wildly.  You could hear it quite clearly over my sound system.  She knew the final scene was only a moment or so away.  I pulled the rope tight enough so that she wouldn’t fall far and secured it on the cleat on the gallows upright.  The only thing remaining between Maryann and her moment of truth was the removal of her shackles from her ankles.  I knelt and did this, and then I stood before her and gave her a kiss on the forehead.  I stepped back off the trap door and grasped the handle of the lever that would release the door.  I asked if she wanted a moment to pray before it happened or if she had anything she wanted to say.  She didn’t want to pray.  These are her final words:

            “There are so many things I need to say to so many people, but none of them are here.  No, I’m ready.  Let’s do this.”

            She started to cry out as the floor fell out from under her, but I had the noose so snug, she had little time- maybe a fraction of a second- before the noose drew tight and cut off her cry.  After that, all you could hear from her were some gurgling noises as she struggled to breathe.  I leaped down from where I’d been on the platform to pull the lever to hang her.  I always watch my girls hang.  They all have a look of shocked surprise on their faces at first, and Maryann was no exception.  And then, they usually get a look of panic as they realize that it’s not a fantasy anymore, that they’re really hanging to their deaths.  Then comes a look of gritty determination as they struggle to stay alive. 

They all struggle in some way or other.  They kick and twist, and even though their hands are tied securely behind their backs, they all try to reach for the rope to pull it away from their throats.  You’d be amazed how far some of them are able to reach.  I wonder that they don’t pull one of their arms out of its socket sometimes.  Mostly, they kick.  That’s why I never bind a woman’s legs, even if she requests it.  I love to watch the lovely dance they perform, and I’ll never bind a woman’s legs and deny myself the pleasure of that spectacle.  Maryann performed such an exquisite aerial dance that I am almost certain that she must have had classical ballet training.  It was a joy to behold.  I’m glad I captured the entire performance on video. 

Do not get your hopes up.  I will not be posting the video on DFN.  I have a very select, very discreet clientele who will pay richly for the privilege of viewing that video.  I am not about to cheapen the video or Maryann’s final moments by posting them on DFN where anyone can view them who is willing to pay the pittance DFN charges for a few months’ access to their videos.  Only those who truly appreciate this kind of thing and who can afford to pay richly for the right to view it will have that rare privilege. 

Maryann fought a valiant fight, but she was doomed to lose that struggle.  Still, it took the noose longer to claim her than it has ever taken to claim any of my other clients.  She danced and kicked and struggled for nearly five minutes before she finally began to weaken, and then, just when I thought she had been beaten, she experienced that amazing rejuvenation that caused her to put on such a spectacular finale.  I’m certain she must have been climaxing very powerfully throughout that final outburst of energy.  The way her body moved, and the look of astonishment on her face were all the evidence I needed to confirm my suspicion, and when it was over, her body still twitched involuntarily for a few seconds until it was finally still. 

I am going to miss Maryann.  She was an incredible sex partner.   She suffered the other tortures I subjected her to with uncommon dignity and valor, and when the end came for her, she faced it bravely and without complaint, and she put on such a spectacular show throughout her hanging that I fear I will never see her equal in my dungeon again.  I have read here in her journal that she thought I have no feelings for the women I execute, but that is not true, especially in her case.  I realize what a rare opportunity it was for me to be the one to help her realize her fantasy, and I sincerely hope and believe the experience was everything she was hoping it would be. 

           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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