Sara realized it was getting harder to breathe, and she was growing light-headed, the garrote having slowly grown taut around her neck, restricting her breathing and gradually reducing
the blood flow to her brain.
Forty-six minutes earlier...
Sara carefully tightened the rope around her neck until only a small amount of slack remained. Then switching on the autoerotic garrote’s motor, she reached back and securely locked the
garrote post’s restraints around her wrists.
Fully committed, with the autoerotic garrot’s rope around my neck and my wrists secured behind my back, I felt a delightful feeling of eager anticipation coursing through my mind. This
time, there would be no escaping the garrote, no backing out, no last-minute reprieve. This time, I knew with absolute certainty that I’d die in less than an hour.
The present...
I know the end is near. With each passing second, it’s getting harder to breathe, every breath quickly becoming a desperate struggle as I feel the garrote’s rope gradually squeezing my
neck steadily tighter.
I desperately struggle against the restraints in a futile attempt to free my hands, but it’s useless. As I intended, I’m hopelessly trapped, doomed to suffer a horrifyingly painful death
of my own making.
...
As the torturous minutes pass, breathing becomes steadily harder until I suddenly realize, to my horror, that I can’t draw my next breath. The garrote has finally tightened enough to end
my life. I feel my lungs burning as my vision quickly grows dark. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was the clock, the startling realization, as the darkness finally takes me,
that it’s been fifty-four minutes since I activated the garrote’s motor.
Later that evening...
Sara’s master came home that evening to find her note on his desk. Reading the letter, he rushed downstairs to their private dungeon playroom, only to find her lifeless body hanging from
the autoerotic garrote’s deadly rope. He’d known that death on the garrote had been Sara’s darkest erotic fantasy since they’d first met, but never in his worst nightmares had he imagined
she’d finally go through with it.
However, even in death, Sara still looked incredibly hot. Futily checking for a pulse, he discovered that she was still warm. Releasing her bound wrists and undoing the garrot’s rope, he
laid Sara’s body over the dungeon’s whipping rack, taking her lifeless body deep and hard in her tight little ass.
Sara would always beg him to use the garrote to culminate their dungeon scenes, taking her for his sexual pleasure as the garrote’s rope drew steadily tighter until she was on the verge of
passing out. Then, releasing her, he’d take her anally, using just enough lubricant to ensure his enjoyment. After, she’d often admit that almost strangling to death on the garrote, followed
by painful anal sex, fueled her darkest masochistic fantasies of necrophilic sex.
Later tonight, he’d dispose of Sara’s corpse in the basement’s incinerator. Then, in the morning, he’d decide which of Sara’s deeply masochistic friends would take her place in his bed and,
more importantly, in his dungeon...