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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This story is fiction, copyright 1996 by A. P. Damien
Don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your
consideration.
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The President's Mistress
by A. P. Damien (no address provided)
***
Andrea clamped her mouth tightly closed to hold in a
scream of pleasure as her power over Milla's rapidly
dwindling life force translated into an enormous orgasm.
(FF, apx, sn)
***
"The defendant will rise and face the bench."
Judge Markstein knew the law was unjust, but it was
clear that the sentence was necessary anyway. Even
counsel for the defense had made it clear. People needed
a scapegoat for the country's troubles, and the "family
values" demagogues had whipped the faithful into a
frenzy over the President keeping a mistress. The mobs
would demand a death, and the unfortunate defendant was
the logical victim. This convenient trial would provide
them with the sacrifice they wanted.
"You have been found guilty of eighteen counts of
violating the Access to High Officials Act. Your
repeated private, ex-parte visits with President
DaPoemian have been proven beyond a reasonable doubt,
and the court has no choice but to sentence you to die.
In deference to your gender, you will be escorted from
here by an all female squad selected from the elite
corps of the Secret Service, and your executioner will
be a member of that squad."
Markstein looked up and seemed to be addressing someone
near the back of the room. "Take the prisoner away and
execute the sentence upon her. This court is adjourned."
Judge Markstein rapped the gavel.
So this was it. Milla wasn't sure she minded. Better
that she die than for the country to dissolve into riots
and rebellions. Things had gotten really bad, and people
were blaming it on her. It was the new prudishness of
the radical right, she knew. Besides, she didn't really
want to go on living without the twice weekly visits
from her Mikey. She loved him, and would gladly give her
life to get him out of this mess.
She had predicted this even before her arrest, and had
made her peace with her impending death while the trial
wound to its dreary close. At least she'd managed to get
her attorney to keep the trial short; dragging it out
with a useless attempt at defense would have been more
than she could have stood.
Sensing a movement behind her, Milla turned and noticed
a group of women standing near the back of the
courtroom, all dressed in identical dark grey dresses.
For a moment she wondered if they were clones. Then one
walked up to her. Mr. Allan, her attorney, shook her
hand and gave her a look that somehow conveyed "I'm
sorry," "I wish I could have done better for you," and
"good luck," all at once.
The strange woman stuck out her hand and Milla reached
to do the same, but the woman grabbed her wrist in a
come-along hold. She led Milla to the back of the
courtroom, where two of the others took a heavy plastic
tie and fastened Milla's wrists together behind her.
Milla guessed that these were the Secret Service squad
the Judge mentioned; there seemed to be about fifteen of
them.
The squad took Milla to an enclosed van and tied her
into one of the seats in back. They all got in
efficiently and the one who had initially grabbed her
got in and started driving. Milla's hard-won resolve
started to waver as she wondered where they were taking
her, and when and how she would be killed.
After what seemed like hours but was less than half an
hour by the dashboard clock, the driver stopped the van
and the doors were opened. As they helped her out, Milla
saw a private garden of some sort. A beautiful place to
die, but it made her sad, remembering the happy times
when she had sometimes walked with Mike in the Rose
Garden.
Two of the women chained one of her legs to an interior
fence, then the driver came forward again. "We have
decided to draw straws to see who has to kill you," the
driver told her, "We're sorry to have to do this to a
sister, but you _did_ commit a capital crime and the
good of the country demands this. I can only assure you
that we'll make it as quick as we can."
Milla still didn't know how she was going to die, but at
least the driver seemed to be promising it would be
soon. One of the women opened a valise and they all took
things out of it and pulled them over their heads, then
they went into a huddle. After a couple of minutes they
turned around and Milla saw they were all wearing black
cloth hoods.
One of them stepped forward and removed her hood.
"Hello, Milla. My name is Andrea and I'm going to be
your executioner today." Close up, Andrea no longer
looked like a clone. Her glossy brown hair reached to
her waist; Milla estimated her age at around 30.
Andrea took a moment to look over the prisoner she was
to execute. Milla's dress and calm demeanor were a
surprise. Andrea had no idea how someone being held on a
capital charge could array herself like that.
The prisoner was dressed in a freshly pressed blouse and
tight skirt, stockings and medium heels; her dark brown
hair hung to her shoulders and she had brushed it until
it was lustrous. It was set off beautifully by her brown
clothing. Her sheer black stockings could hardly have
taken the stress of the exercise yard in the federal
jail. And her shoes, where did a prisoner get heels like
that?
Milla looked into the other's eyes and was sure that for
all the driver's assurances of sisterhood and sympathy,
this one would enjoy killing her. She could sense
Andrea's envy of her milky-white skin and nearly black
eyes. This struck Milla as odd; Andrea's face was pretty
enough though not as beautiful as Milla's. And Milla
would die for that nearly perfect body that the clinging
grey knit dress showed off. Also, she sensed there might
be some sexual interest involved; there seemed to be
something... kinky... about this agent.
And Andrea didn't seem to have any weapons, so Milla
still had no idea how she was to be executed. Perhaps
some sort of martial art? Surely a Secret Service agent
would know at least one. Milla was certainly helpless
enough, with her hands tied behind her back and one leg
manacled to the fence. Whatever it was, Milla wished
Andrea would hurry up and get it over with.
Andrea smiled slightly and moved forward until she was
almost touching Milla. Suddenly she wrapped her two legs
around Milla's one free leg; Milla tried to pull her leg
free but found it was immobilized. Andrea must be
stronger than she looked.
The Andrea put her hands gently around Milla's throat,
the thumbs resting lightly in the hollow where her
throat met her chest.
Milla's eyes widened as she realized how she was going
to die. This wasn't going to be pleasant, but she could
imagine plenty of worse deaths. Her legs started to
shake a little as she thought about wanting to breathe
and not being able to. She remembered how she would
sometimes hold her breath as long as she could while
watching a magic escape act on TV; she'd always had to
give up after about a minute. This would go on and keep
on getting worse until she died. She shivered a little
and hoped it wouldn't hurt too much.
Andrea watched her victim's eyes as Milla realized what
was in store. This woman with perfect skin was in her
power, and Andrea would get to feel Milla's death
struggles. "I won't squeeze too hard at first," she
whispered. "We don't want you to get an unseemly
coughing fit, now do we?"
Milla shook her head, a tiny side-to-side movement of
her chin. Her voice seemed stuck in her throat, and she
felt like she was having trouble breathing even though
Andrea wasn't squeezing yet.
Andrea found this very satisfying; the prisoner was
already afraid of her. She went on, "It won't take long
to stop your breathing. I'm just going to give you a few
seconds to get used to the pressure." She squeezed
slightly with her thumbs and Milla could feel her throat
constrict; she could still breathe without _too_ much
trouble, though.
Andrea listened to the raspy sound of Milla's breathing
and smiled again, then slowly increased the pressure. In
a few seconds she heard the rasping noise change to an
irregular snoring sound. She eased up just a little and
hissed, "Take a deep breath and enjoy it, kiddo. It's
the last one you'll ever get."
Milla made the most of the opportunity, pulling as much
air as she could into her lungs, despite the effort
required to get it past the pressure on her throat. Then
she felt Andrea's fingers start to slowly tighten again.
Andrea looked down at where her thumbs were digging into
Milla's neck, and increased the pressure until the
snoring noise stopped completely. It was amazing, how
little effort was required to make that beautiful dent
in the hollow of the other woman's throat and cut off
her breath.
Milla's eyes held a look of determined resolution when
Andrea looked into them again, but that look slowly
changed as Andrea's fingers dug into that milky throat.
She'd started counting seconds when Milla's breathing
stopped, and it took less than 30 for that determined
bravery to turn to desperation.
Soon Milla's chest was heaving with the effort to get
rid of the stale air trapped in her lungs. Andrea
revelled in the sense of her power over the condemned
woman's life and breath. She smiled into Milla's eyes as
the desperate look turned to fear, then slowly to utter
panic. Andrea could feel the trembling and Milla's
struggles, transmitted though the leg trapped between
her own and found it was getting her excited.
Milla's upper body started thrashing around, trying to
pull free from Andrea's hands around her neck. But
Andrea merely held on tighter, looking deep into the
other woman's eyes, and savoured the pleading look she
found there.
The change that had come over Milla was amazing. She had
come here meekly, obviously intending to submit to the
death awaiting her. But now, with death so near, she was
struggling like a tigress, slamming her body into
Andrea, then twisting away to one side or throwing
herself back against the fence, trying to get free.
Andrea glanced down to see her thumbs digging very deep
in Milla's neck. Further down she could see her victim's
breasts heaving in a rapid, panting attempt to get air.
And Andrea was breathing fast too. Holding onto Milla
was getting harder as the struggles got wilder, and
Andrea could feel a growing excitement, a tingling
feeling in her breasts and between her legs. Andrea was
almost surprised Milla hadn't managed to break her spine
with her violent struggles.
Andrea looked up to Milla's face again; the other
woman's eyes were starting to bulge from their sockets
as she strained for air. This was a moment to savor; it
was unlikely Andrea would ever again have someone's life
in her hands again. She held on tight and met the
bulging eyes again. "Sssh. Sssh," she whispered, "it's
OK, it'll be over soon. Less than a minute now, and
you'll sleep...forever. But go ahead and struggle, it
uses up your air and you'll be done that much sooner."
The struggles slowed down a little and became less
violent. Andrea wasn't sure if Milla had heard her or
was just becoming weaker. The trembling had stopped now,
but Andrea could still feel the motions of Milla's upper
body through the leg she was holding between hers. The
condemned woman's mouth was open in a desperate stretch
for air.
The struggles started to weaken, and Milla's swollen
tongue started to emerge from her mouth. Andrea wrapped
her legs tighter around Milla's as her excitement
started to grow out of control. She felt a tremendous
sense of power as the other woman's life faded in her
hands and the woman's struggles changed to small
movements of the chest muscles.
Andrea clamped her mouth tightly closed to hold in a
scream of pleasure as her power over Milla's rapidly
dwindling life force translated into an enormous orgasm.
When she regained control, she found her thumbs
incredibly deep in the other woman's throat. Her legs
were clamped so hard around Milla's they were starting
to hurt. The victim's upper body sagged limply in her
grasp, the head lolled forward almost onto the chest.
Andrea forced herself to breathe normally and held onto
Milla's neck until finally another woman stepped around
behind the prisoner and grabbed a wrist. After a few
seconds she nodded to Andrea, "It's over."
Andrea relaxed her thighs first, she knew they'd be
bruised for days from the way she'd abused them today.
Then she slowly, almost lovingly, released her grip on
the dead throat. Her hair was all sweaty near her scalp
and down the back of her neck, she would have to wash it
tonight.
The squad formed up, took the manacles off the dead
body, and carried it away to be buried in accordance
with the President's directions.
Andrea considered her sore thumbs and aching thighs, and
decided it was worth it. It seemed to her that after
she'd reassured the other woman Milla had acted as
though she didn't mind so much, perhaps even enjoyed her
last moments a little. Perhaps they had _both_ had
orgasms. She wondered what it had felt like for Milla to
be strangled like that.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The
author does not condone the described behavior in
real life in any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted
to act out any of the scenarios in this story should
seriously consider seeking professional help.
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