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Posted: 11-Jan-2017 - 3 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
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After a long time in the old family home I decided to sell up and move into the country, where perhaps there would be a barn where I could play my games without fear of disturbance. I put the house on the market with a local agent and started looking. I found a couple that would be suitable with one being ideal, easy for getting to the motorway for work yet secluded and with a large garage/workshop with exposed beams and vertical supports. The cost was a little high so I agreed to invest in an expensive brochure for the old house. They were sent out to anybody who had shown an interest in it and similar houses and a large number of viewings were arranged.


The agents showed everybody around, I just had to stay out of the way. Most were mature couples but the last one on the Thursday was an attractive woman on her own, dark haired and a nice body, aged in the mid-thirties. When she had finished looking she wanted to ask some questions so I was introduced. “It is really, really nice to meet you” she said, a little over the top I thought but no problem. She asked about the changes to the building we had made, particularly the bedrooms, all reasonable, and I answered them openly. She thanked me and left with  the agent, saying she would be in touch, very soon.


After I closed the door as they had left I went through turning off all the lights. I reached inside the door of the top bedroom to flick the switch but as I did so I noticed something on the bed that hadn’t been there before. An envelope propped up against the pillows, in fact this one:


IMG_20170111_131054224.jpg


Not very artistic but gets the message across. As I saw it my mouth went dry instantly. It must have been her, the others would have known there were more to come and it would have been noticed, particularly given the sketches on the front. I quickly opened it and inside there was a photo and a note. I looked at the photo first, it was of one of my hangs, in this very room. Red boots swinging in the air, strapped together, all dressed up. Hooded and Hanged, in fact. I put it down, clearly there is a risk when you post photos of yourself that somebody will spot where you are. OK somebody on a site like DFN will probably be into what you are doing and even if they know you will not be going to let the world know they have been there themselves. However, my first thought was “What does she want? Money?”.


A few lines into the note it was clear, no, not money:


“When I received the brochure I was going to throw it away as the house is too big for me but something caught my eye and I flicked it open. There was the room I had just been looking at, with a man dressed in pvc and boots hanging in it. I had read your last blog story and had moved on to have a look at your profile. The photos were interesting but all were solo and I had just been thinking of making an offer you couldn’t refuse, given you clearly lived not far from my home in West London. However, your house being on sale gave me a chance to have a look first. I printed out the picture, wrote this note and then doodled on the envelope. I am guessing it will attract your attention.


I want to make a proposition. I will ask for a second viewing after work hours when you will have to show me around, not the agent. If you are not interested just say you can’t do it and I will disappear, going back to reading stories but no further contact. If you say yes, I will come and hang you. For as long as you want. The way it will work is simple. You will dress as in the pictures, screw the ring to the beam and put the rope of your choice through it with a noose at the end. Leave the code to your keybox under the mat with the first and last numbers swapped over so nobody else can let themselves in.  Then put your camera in place and chain yourself up looking at the noose, hands behind your back and ankles shackled. All keys must be left in the hall out of your reach. You just sit there and wait, thinking about what is going to happen,


I will come in and we will have a very short conversation. It will be about the length of time you will be hanging. A number of seconds at one end and “until dead” at the other. If you choose the latter I will just leave you there but please leave your profile page open on DFN and they will think “misadventure”. I will put the noose around you neck, you will climb up onto your little platform. The slack will be taken out and I will push away the platform, leaving you really hanging by the neck. After the agreed time I will let you down and unlock you. Then I will leave, nothing more I’m afraid.

All of this requires a massive amount of trust and beyond my promises there is no reason to give it to me. Having said that I think we will be meeting again soon.


I had nearly 24 hours to get my thoughts in order. The agents phoned about two couples who wanted a full second viewing but no mention of the woman. The it came, “Can you show somebody around tomorrow evening? We can get somebody from the office round but it would help if you can do it.”. Nothing to lose at this stage so “Yes, sure”. They confirmed it was who I thought it was (“Miss Hanson, the last one), agreed a time and asked me to let them know the morning after how it went. I could always cancel, but of course I didn’t.


Ironically the thing that worried me most was not the hanging, just the chaining up securely. What if she didn’t turn up? I guess I would be found there by the agents with the next viewer. I could cheat on that, but I didn’t. As soon as I zipped up my boots I knew it was going to happen, I was going to do it. I followed the process exactly, camera, ring, rope, noose, shackles, handcuffs, chains in place, open padlock, click! Sit down and wait. 8 o’clock went past and I was just beginning to see if I could pull out the screws that held the chains in place when I heard the door open downstairs.


I sat quietly just in case it was somebody else, like a family member just popping by. I heard some noises from the floor below then a creak on the stairs. The door pushed  open and there she was. Hair pulled back, mask, collar, one piece shiny black body, long shiny gloves, fishnets just showing above very long patent thigh boots with very thin and high heels. Carrying a whip. All she said was “How long?”. I stood and said simply “Until I am unconscious”. She started the camera and moved me over to the noose. She stood in front of me and looked into my eyes, with the heels she was almost level. She kept looking as she took the noose and slipped it over my head. It was tightened, slightly to the left but mainly behind my neck. She looked down at the platform and I stepped onto it. The slack was taken out and a little more, lifting my heels slightly. It only had taken about three minutes, three minutes since the creak on the stairs until the absolute realisation that I was going to be hanged with no way out, by my neck, potentially choking to death.


She moved to one side so I was in full view of the camera and put her boot on the plank that is the top of the platform. Two seconds later and I was hanging. The noose tightened instantly, the solo hangs didn’t do that. Tight all round my neck. Cutting in, really tight. Pain. Let go. I can’t, this is for real, no let go, get me down. Kicking. I want it to stop. But I don’t. Kicking some more. All I can do. Kick. Oh, this is it, she has hanged me. I can’t breathe.  Need to, I can’t. I’m feeling like I’m getting a high. Yes. Stop kicking, make it last. I’m hanging, I’m going to die. I am dying, it is going dark, a darkness with little fireworks in it. Hang still, just hang here. A shivver going all up through me, the darkness is here, now………………...

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