Scene One

Every character in this story is over 18. I'm 22, and the men arranging the scene are all at least 30. My name is Régine, and I live just outside Paris. This story ends happily. No one is hurt.

I tend to use the same words in all my stories, e.g., calling my snatch my girlhood or my bunny hole. So, should you see my words in other stories, don't think I copied them. I wrote them. My stories all have the same pattern: a girl gets naked, tied up, screwed, or otherwise used, and everything ends happily. This story is similar to one I wrote before, maybe six years ago.

It's Friday, après-midi, and I'm off on my Honda to Rue Gabrielle for a "hanging" scene, my first. I'm the one who's going to be "hung" as I'm young, female, and have a nice body. Of course Paris is full of young females with nice bodies. But not all of them are willing to get naked and be at least halfway tortured or otherwise abused to provide entertainment for enthusiasts of the genre.

It's a twenty-minute ride from my apartment to the Atelier, above which the scene will take place. I've been there before. I'm getting to be a favorite player. I have a pretty face, nice hair, big boobs, a flat tummy, a nice round ass, and nice legs. I'm also athletic, a swimmer and a runner, physically up to withstanding the punishment one must endure to survive in the industry. Always on time, I pull my motorbike into a convenient spot among the many other two-wheeled vehicles. One sees parked cars along some streets, but rarely a car being used. Montmartre was built for something different than cars. It's a place for enjoying life. It is a beautiful place to be, especially in the summer.

I head up to the second floor, at least in Europe it's the second floor. To my American readers, it's the third. Up there, hopefully, no one will hear me scream. And I will, sometimes acting, sometimes not. My putative hangmen greet me cheerily. My films sell well. There are three men, two dressed in camouflage gear, they will do the technical stuff, another dressed in more normal clothes, he will appear in the film. I imagine I'll soon be dressed only in my winning smile, but, it turns out, they'll provide me a garter belt, garters, and stockings, so I won't be entirely naked. But viewers will be able to see all the parts of me that matter to them. They speak in English. They are Germans and I am Dutch, so English works best. We will do the film in English. Most customers understand at least some English, though the plot is simple enough that one need not necessarily understand what's said to enjoy it.

"Thank you for doing this," the one in street clothes says.

"Happy to."

"May I inquire, why ARE you doing this?"

"Money. And I've never done any breath play. I get offers, but have always refused. But I would like to get the work, so here I am to learn."

"Sehr gut!" Mostly, they speak in English. He says something to his compatriots in English, to be polite, I figure. I tell him to speak to his buddies in German if he likes, and he does. They busy themselves setting up their gear. Half an hour later, they are ready. There are film cameras, lights, and microphones, because there is some dialog. Also, a computer and a large monitor to display what is going onto film. The scene will be shot against a black background. The only equipment is a stool upon which I will stand to be hung, a chair for the guy to stand on when he put the noose around my neck and tightened it down, a noose made of a thick red rope hanging down from a rafter, and some white cotton rope to tie my wrists behind my back. The noose looks exactly like the ones one always sees, with a coil of rope just behind the victim's head.

While the two buddies set up the gear, the one in street clothes hands me a garter belt made of a thin strip of cloth, thin enough to ensure it will not obscure the view of my genitals once my panties are off. It has white trim on top and a red and white frilly lining on the bottom. Then he hands me a pair of white mesh stockings which come up to mid-thigh.

"Please, if you would put these on."

"OK." I look for a place to dress. All I have to do is pull up the garter belt far enough so it will stay on me, pull on the stockings, and attach them to the belt, but it's a matter of principle. Despite the fact I'm just minutes away from being otherwise naked, I want to dress and undress in private. It's customary. There's no place to do it, but I get as far away from the men as possible.

I come back, suitably attired to start the scene, and the one in street clothes explains what they want. The plot is simple. Why all this is happening would be explained by a female voice just as the film is starting. I will enter a room dressed in my shift, my American-style panties, the undies they supplied, and my clogs. I figured it's not clear whether the undies they provided will go well with my simple shift, but the viewers won't notice. I will be seized from behind and chloroformed, or something of the like, and rendered "unconscious". Lying on the floor, I will be stripped of my dress, my panties, and my clogs. I will sometime later awake, naked except for my garters and hose, my hands tied behind my back. I will be forced up on the stool and the noose placed around my neck. During all of this, I should plead for my life.

At length, the stool will be kicked away, and I will hang. Hang for real. I think it was at this point that I started to realize what was about to happen. And it made me horny. I felt my nipples harden under my shift, and that funny little feeling I always get inside me as I start to get wet inside. I was about to hang by my neck. Long enough to be convincing. Maybe two minutes. That is the challenging part. That is the dangerous part. The part I had come here to experience. How was I going to manage that? I thought, the red rope is thick and will be up under my chin, not around my neck. And, there will be no drop when the stool is removed, because I knew beforehand the noose will be pulled up until I am standing on tiptoe. Other girls did it. I could do it.

"What do you think?"

"Fine." Actually I was getting frightened. I didn't mind him tying my hands behind me. I always need to be tied up when I'm choked in bed. If I'm not, I can't do it. While it's happening, I can feel my lungs screaming for air and I scream and kick. But when I'm tied, I enjoy it. I can feel my body start getting numb. But the fantastic feelings of cumming and helplessness and desperation when I can't breathe or escape are worth it. But if I'm choked too long without a chance to breathe I give in to the darkness and let it take me as I begin to fade into unconsciousness, and my boyfriend saves me. But who would save me here? These guys? But I wanted to try this. So I did.

"Let me ask you one thing more."

"OK."

"After I tie your hands behind you it would be good if you would give me a blowjob." He looked at me hopefully.

"Ah, no. We said a hanging. We said nothing about blowjobs." He smiled and nodded. "Well, I think we are almost ready now." I looked at the setup. There were cameras directly in front of, and to the side of, where I would hang. Looking closely, because I suspected it would be there, was another camera directly below where I would hang. Under the chair. So, while I was hanging, they could record close-ups of my genitals. The lighting was at forty-five degree angles to the front, to make my body most visible, but not washed out. A mike hung overhead. The cameras rolled. We started.

I walked across the floor into the camera shot, the guy grabbed me from behind, and applied a hanky to my mouth. I struggled for fifteen or so seconds, then began to weaken and finally "passed out". He lowered me to the floor and started to strip me. He pulled my shift up, revealing the garters, then my bare breasts, then the shift was off me and thrown to the side. He unhooked my garters and pulled my panties to my knees, not incidentally baring my ass, my hairless pudenda, and my girlhood. He re-hooked the garters, pulled my panties to my ankles, pulled off my clogs and my underpants, and the stripping was done. In one minute. He rolled me on my tummy, pulled my hands behind me, and bound my wrists together tightly.

"Get up!" he commanded me. Oblivious to the fact I was supposed to be knocked out. I got up and he pulled me to the stool.

"Get up!" he commanded me.

"No, no," I pleaded, but I did it anyway. At this rate, it was going to be a short film.

"Yes," he said as I mounted the stool and turned to face the camera. I saw it panning my almost naked body and could follow the action on the monitor. The guy came out in front of me and looked at me hungrily. I surveyed myself in the monitor. I was looking fine. I could see the equipment guys staring blankly at me. The guy went and got the chair he was to stand on, brought it over, put it behind me, and got up on it. He grabbed the noose and started pulling it down over my head. My nipples were so hard they hurt. I was so wet inside it started to show on the lips of my pussy. My chest started to move each time I breathed, and I started to breathe more often. Now I was really afraid. What the fuck was I doing?

"No, please!" I sniffled convincingly, I thought. Then the noose was down over my head and around my neck. Then he was pulling my hair out from under it. Then he was sliding the coil down so the noose was tight around my neck.

"No, please don't do this to me!" I halfway meant it in real life. He got down off the chair and went over to where the rope attached to the noose was tied off, untied it, pulled on it until it was taut, and tied it off again.

"So you thought you'd get away with this?" Part of the plot, I guess, that I never understood until I saw the completed film.

"Get away with what?" I stared down at him with tears in my eyes, having no idea in real life what he was talking about.

"You know what I'm talking about!"

"No, I half screamed, I don't!" He stood in front of me.

"Yes you do." He reached up and slapped the underside of my breast, and it hurt, and I cried out in genuine pain. Then he did the other breast.

"Stop it, please!" And again, I pretty much meant it. Then he started running his hands over my naked body, squeezing my breasts, running his hand down over my tummy, over my garter, and down to my girlhood, now soaking wet.

"Stop it, please!" I couldn't think of anything else to say, but I really didn't want his hands on me, especially between my legs.

"I'd give you a way out, but there really isn't one." He went over to where the rope was tied, untied it and started pulling down on it, raising me up off my heels onto my tiptoes.

"Don't, don't, please!" In real life I knew this was the last step before I would hang. I was scared shitless, but horny too, and fascinated by how I felt, so completely was I in his power. He held me up on my tiptoes with his body weight on the rope, and one of the other guys helped him tie it off. He came back and started screaming at me and slapped me across the face this time, and then again across my boobs. Now I was crying for real, a combination of being hit and being scared and being horny, and I could feel the wet from my girlhood running down my leg. I screamed again when he hit me. Now his hand was in between my legs, and he started rubbing me and licking the wetness off his fingers.

"Boy, you must really like this!" And he was talking to the real me, because he knew I did like it.

"Look at her, just look at her," he told the other guys, and he kept at it, pushing his fingers into me and massaging my clit, and I kept getting closer and closer to getting off. I started crying, with all the feelings that were rushing through me.

"No, no!"

"You're cunt's all wet! You're loving this!" And he started pushing his fingers up into me faster and faster, and I kept getting nearer and nearer cumming.

"Erik, get over there and pull!" Erik did, and he pulled down on the rope and I felt the noose tighten even more around my neck, and it seemed like I was being pulled upwards. Then I realized I was, and my weight started to come off my tiptoes, and I was lifted up a little further. Then I started to feel I was having trouble breathing, just a little. I knew what was happening. I was ready to be hung. I was really, really scared. My heart was pounding. I was sweating all over. What the fuck was going to happen to me? I was absolutely terrified. I started to struggle against the ropes that bound my wrists, but it was no use. I started weakly to call for help, then I started to cry softly, and then I started to go over the falls and start cumming. And then he kicked my stool away, and Erik let go of the rope, and my body fell free, and I was hung by my neck.

Suddenly there was the full bite of the noose all around my throat, and the pain from it awakened in me the fear of what was happening. I'm at once terrified, but all the time enjoying what's happening. The tightness of the rope around my neck, and how good it feels to be so truly helpless. I feel the warmth in my breasts, the wetness between my legs, my chest heaving with the quickening of my breathing, and the butterflies in my belly. And despite the pain I feel from being hung, the growing fire between my legs becomes too much, and even though I'm still strangling that hot feeling between my legs takes me further and further into the welcome state when every inch of me tingles.

My hips surge forward and my cunt is aching and then my whole body trembles and I surrender to the glorious sensations of cumming. It takes me to another world until suddenly it subsides and succumbs to the fact that I'm strangling. Suddenly I'm awake to the pain of every fiber of my body screaming for air, but there is no way to stop it. More time passes and more suffering and finally pain seems to come to me in waves. Every passing moment brings more and more as my body weakens and I just hang there limply by my neck. and it was now just a matter of time before everything turns black.

Except it didn't. I might have passed out at some point, but when I woke up I was down on the floor and the guys were yelling out my name. I began to get some understanding of what was happening and where I was, and then gradually, I came back into the world, and slowly things returned to normal. And I was still on the floor and still naked and my wrists tied up so tight they hurt. But I didn't care. The orgasm I had been blessed with had been so tremendous, and even though it didn't last long I was so happy during it I could have cried, and I just wished it could have gone on and on. But it didn't because I couldn't breathe. But it was better than any one I have ever got from having a boy inside me.

After a while we finished up the film. I got back up on the chair and pretended to be hanging there dead for the camera. Then the guy took me down and lay me on the floor and took the ropes off me and I lay there naked so guys watching the film could finish beating off, or whatever guys do when they watch a film like that. Then finally I got up and got dressed and all four of us went out to get something to eat. Finally, I was OK to motor home. For three days I had to wear a collar around my neck to hide the marks from the noose. But I knew I had to do this again.