Warning: this story features multiple hangings of females and strong sexual content. If you are too young or simply don’t like this kind of things stop reading now.

 

After you read it please sent your comments to dez31415@yahoo.com . The author thrives on feedback!

 

                               

 

THE CONCUBINE

 

 

A week before her seventeenth birthday Desi was brought to the capital and, together with thirty other promising young girls, presented to a court official.

 

She was ushered in a large chilly hall and found the others girls already inside, standing in neat rows. The official, a wizened old eunuch, frowned at Desi for being late. He silently waited until Desi took her place and, without introduction or any further ado, ordered everyone to strip naked. The girls obeyed, and once the rustling of fabric had subsided, the eunuch stepped to the first girl in the front row and subjected her to a most thorough and embarrassing scrutiny. He checked her eyes, ears, and teeth, poked and pinched her breasts. That done, he told her to lift one leg and carefully inspected her hymen; then spread her buttocks and probed inside with a finger. Other girls watched apprehensively as he let go of the first girl and proceeded to the next.

 

One by one the girls were dismissed and left in tears, clutching their clothes; but after the eunuch was done examining Desi, he told to stand aside and wait. Desi hoped it was a good sign. In the end, only two of them were left, and when the door closed behind the last girl the eunuch commanded Desi to approach and prostrate herself before him. Lying naked on bare flagstones, shivering with cold, the girl wondered what other ordeal awaited her. But there was no need to worry – the half-man only made an announcement.

 

In a long, flowery speech the official informed Desi that she had to prepare herself because she was about to receive the greatest honor that could be given to a woman of her station – she was to become the Emperor’s new concubine. Desi was ecstatic. A bastard daughter of a minor noble could hardly hope for such a lucky fate, yet here she was! All her life she suffered because of her low birth and now, she thought, the suffering was over.

 

The very next day a detachment of the Imperial Guard came to the modest inn where Desi was staying by herself and took her away never to come home again… and this was fine with Desi. She knew that her father would only be too happy to be rid of his embarrassing daughter.

 

In accordance with her new status, Desi was provided with a royal carriage and all trappings of luxury. The road ahead was long – the Emperor disliked cities and was spending most of his time deep in the woods. Great care was taken to have Desi travel in comfort. The carriage had a couch with soft feather pillows where Desi reclined, eating peaches and drinking fine wine. She had entertainment, too: a slave maiden with unusual gold hair was sitting at her feet, playing sweet melodies on a flute. Outside, four mounted guardsmen made way for the procession by pushing the hapless commoners to the side of the road lest the Emperor’s new concubine be kept waiting.

 

Despite the food, the wine, and the music Desi was bored. And now, that she had plenty of time to think about her future, she was worried sick, too. What did she really know about her Lord and her soon to be Master? In truth, next to nothing. The Emperor was loath to appear in public and hated empty bustle of his court; to escape all that he had built many country residencies, where he secluded himself with his friends and closest advisors and where he was attended to by armies of slaves. Naturally, the Emperor’s private ways caused much curiosity and had set some tongues to waggle. The capital was full of rumors – one more fantastic than the other – most of which were concerned with Emperor’s unusual sexual tastes. All gossip agreed that the man was some kind of pervert but no one could quite put his finger on what exactly that supposed perversion was about. No one knew for sure since those few who were allowed inside the inner circle were sworn to secrecy.

 

The rumors were tolerated though; they were mostly good-natured kind and not meant as slander; among the elite being a pervert was considered a badge of honor. The bored and corrupt nobility did not object to even strangest and most distasteful practices; for example, it was not scandalous or even very remarkable for a nobleman to love young boys, or even young sheep. "At least the Emperor prefers women," reasoned Desi, "Why else would he be looking for a concubine? Anyway, it’s no use thinking about it. All I can do now is to look pretty and be prepared for anything."

 

Many hours later the city was far behind. The day was already drawing to a close when the road made the final turn and, at the long last, Desi could see her destination. The Emperor’s country residence was a sprawling castle topped by a multitude of white stone towers and cupola, now painted rose by the rays of setting sun. Two concentric walls of varying heights surrounded the vast structure; the inner wall was tall and white, just like the castle itself, and speckled by windows; but the outer wall was squat, gray, and blind. Desi watched the approaching walls with apprehension – she knew that once she was inside them she would be as good as vanished. From now on, nothing could ever reach her from the world outside, nor could she send a word to anyone. This was the price of entering the inner circle.

 

"Who passes here?" The gatekeeper’s challenge could be heard from above, the voice muffled by the height of his perch. "The Emperor’s new concubine!" bellowed in response the sergeant of the escort. There were cheers all around. A minute later, the chains started to rattle as the drawbridge was slowly lowered into place. Sensing home, the horses galloped ahead; the procession crossed the bridge rapidly, rushed through the gate, and abruptly stopped in the middle of the courtyard. The carriage door was pushed open and, surrounded by new, unfamiliar faces, Desi stepped out into her new life.

 

* * *

 

The first days in the castle were a wonderful dream. Desi was pampered beyond all her experience. She lived in large airy apartments overlooking flower garden and, waking up in the mornings, she would find near her bed a bouquet of roses and a bowl of summer fruit. Best court seamstresses took her measurements and in a mere week Desi had a whole wardrobe of gorgeous new dresses. She was assigned a dozen maids, half a dozen servants, and a tutor. The old eunuch, who arrived from the city shortly after the girl, was in charge of the whole coterie, but Desi hardly ever saw him. And she hadn’t seen the Emperor even once.

 

Desi knew that the Emperor was here, somewhere. She could hear the signs of his coming and going – bangs and rattle of the drawbridge, blowing trumpets, baying of hounds and hoof beats of horses, – but she never saw him, not even a glimpse. She wondered why he delayed getting to know his new prize but could not come up with any explanation, so she put it out of her mind.

 

Time passed, and Desi’s high spirits went sour. She was getting lonely. Desi never ventured outside her quarters – she wasn’t allowed to, and, because she imagined the castle to be one giant barrack full of rude, uncouth soldiers, didn’t really want to. She could talk to her servants but they wouldn’t answer – they were mute. Her maids could speak but Desi was soon tired of their dumb and bawdy stories. And as for her tutor… well, she could definitely talk to the tutor; in fact, before the start of the lessons she was looking forward to that. But once the lessons started, Desi didn’t want to talk anymore.

 

Desi hated the tutor since their first meeting. The woman’s name was Ayala but Desi never called her that. The tutor was a stern woman of forty, with eyes gray as steel, and the face in a permanent scowl. The woman was not ugly, not really; she could even be called beautiful, if she would only smile. Of course, her stomach was no longer as flat as that of a girl, her bottom was a bit too ample, and gravity made a work of her breasts – no one could mistake the tutor for a youngster. But she wasn’t ugly, and she wasn’t old. In truth, Desi had no justification to call her as she did. Yet every time Desi saw the woman she muttered under her breath – out of pure spite – "here comes the Hag."

 

The first lesson was horrible. Seconds after she entered, even before introducing herself, the Hag ordered Desi to lie down, and, when Desi had obeyed, sat on the girl’s chest. Then, without much ceremony, the woman spread the young girl’s legs and proceeded to deflower her with a special porcelain tool. While her pupil moaned with unexpected pain, the Hag explained that her task would be to teach Desi the arts of love.

 

At first, they studied "the theory", which wasn’t that bad. The Hag was describing the male and female parts and the many ways they could fit together. At the end of the lesson there was always a demonstration of new concepts; this was performed by a kitchen boy and his young sister, a scullery maid, who were willing to serve as visual aids. Unfortunately, after six weeks the theory was over and lessons became what the Hag called "the practice." Now Desi was supposed to strip, lie down on a special table, and do some breathing exercises for a few minutes. After that, she was made to assume a dozen of different, uncomfortable and humiliating poses that she was supposed to maintain while penetrated with enormous, realistically portrayed wooden phalluses called the "woodies."

 

The tutor’s fantasy – or, perhaps, her experience – was elaborate and depraved. Every day the Hag was pushing her "toys" deeper and deeper inside Desi until the girl felt that she was about to burst. The worst part was that Desi never knew what to expect next. She remembered well the moment when this point was driven home. The Hag ordered Desi to stand on her knees with a woodie inserted between her legs. After a while the girl relaxed, and at that moment the Hag suddenly pulled the stick out and saying, "Now open you mouth and taste your cunt!" firmly planted it in the girl’s throat. Overcome first by disgust and later by basic suffocation, Desi tried to cough. But the Hag saw that, slapped the girl’s naked buttocks with all her strength, and shouted, "Stop it, you little bitch! Breathe as I taught you!"

 

Nevertheless, other than the loneliness and the "love" lessons (which had very little love in them,) Desi’s life wasn’t that bad. Soon, it got even better, because her loneliness was eased. Every young girl needs a friend, and, fortunately, someone finally thought of that. One day, coming back after a stroll in the garden, Desi discovered that she had one more maid: the same golden-haired girl who played the flute and who turned out to be a special servant to the Emperor. Her new duty though was to keep Desi’s company.

 

The new girl was five years older than Desi and vastly more experienced. From her unusual looks it was clear that she came from far away, from a country of primeval forests and year-round snow somewhere far north. Her story was quite typical for a slave. Her parents were very poor and, during a famine, sold the youngest daughter in exchange for food. After that she changed many masters and eventually ended up with the Emperor as a gift from one of the nobles. Desi tried to pronounce the girl’s long Northern name but she never succeeded beyond the first syllable, and so she called her new friend simply "Lu."

 

Lu taught Desi to dance and play the flute and in exchange, Desi taught Lu to read. Together, they walked in the garden gathering flowers and making wreaths, swam naked in the cold stream, told each other stories, laughed a lot. Lu loved surprises and practical jokes and did her best to amuse and sometimes infuriate her friend. When tired, they would lie together in the grass and Desi would revel in the abundance of Lu’s long golden hair – long, luxurious golden tresses, golden brow… even the triangle below Lu’s milky-white stomach was also pure gold! Desi was fascinated.

 

One day, Desi came home after a lesson sobbing bitterly. "Are you hurting?" asked Lu and, without waiting for an answer, hugged and kissed her friend. Carefully, she caressed the parts of Desi’s body that suffered the most, first with her finger, then with her lips and tongue. Desi immediately forgot her pain. The maids came running quickly when they heard their mistress’s cries but when they saw what was happening they smiled and retreated.

 

Never before had Desi experienced this kind of pleasure. When she got her breath back she decided to return the favor, and that was very nice, too. Desi enjoyed lying on her stomach with her nose buried in golden hair and her tongue probing deeply, making Lu’s strong thighs involuntary squeeze the sides of her face. But this was not all. Later, Lu excused herself and soon came back carrying one of the Hag’s "borrowed" woodies. That was how Desi learned that a wooden stick does not have to be an instrument of torture.

 

Every day the girls were growing closer. Lu slept in the room next to Desi and in the morning the forgotten concubine often found herself in her friend’s bed. Some nights though, Lu disappeared. She never said where she went on these occasions but Desi knew that she was called to the Emperor’s side to perform her mysterious duties. What was she doing there? Where was the Emperor? What was he like in person? Desi was dying of curiosity. She asked, she wheedled, she even screamed and demanded, but still Lu wouldn’t tell her. Although, she did drop a couple of hints.

 

Once, Lu took a woody in her hand, licked its tip, and remarked, "Big, isn’t it? And yet it’s true to life." The second hint came a few days later, when Desi, trying to elicit a comment, was telling Lu all the rumors she heard about Emperor’s strange ways. The golden-haired girl pushed her friend away and exclaimed, "You shouldn’t have listened to that nonsense!" But then she smiled enigmatically and added, "One thing is true: our Master is a bit odd. But you have nothing to fear."

 

* * *

 

At last, the day had come – after five long months, which felt like eternity. Desi woke up early in the morning, feeling a mix of dread and anticipation. She ate lightly and then, just as she was ordered, went back to bed. She had to rest because a concubine mustn’t appear tired. It was early afternoon when Desi emerged from her bed once more, and this time gave herself into the hands of her maids. They washed her, brushed her hair and painted her face, rubbed her body with aromatic oils, dressed her in a long white gown, and left her alone in her bedroom to await a knock on the door.

 

It came just after midnight. Two tall silent guardsmen suddenly appeared in the doorway and managed to startle Desi, even though she was expecting them for hours. They led her through a maze of corridors and stairs from one unfamiliar part of the castle to the next, and then to the next, and then to still more… For the first time Desi was able to appreciate just how big this place was. Just when Desi thought they would be walking until dawn, they stopped in front of an unremarkable low doorway. The girls was given a last chance to straighten her hair and clothes; then one of the guardsmen opened the door, and another pushed her inside and quickly closed it behind her.

 

Desi found herself in a brightly lit, windowless chamber dominated by an enormous square bed. In the middle of the bed, on top of the heaped cushions, reclined a tall, powerful man, beautiful and frightening, like an ancient god. His intense magnetic eyes turned toward Desi. Her heart skipped a bit and for a moment Desi was overcome by conflicting emotions of attraction and fear. She wanted to run to the man and, at the same time, she wanted to run away; but what she did was exactly what she was taught.

 

With her eyes modestly downcast, Desi took a couple of steps toward the bed, struck a pose of graceful innocence (carefully rehearsed,) and with a quick shrug let her gown drop to her ankles. Now the Emperor could see all of her body, and, although Desi’s face was serene, her guts were turning to ice with worry. "Does he like me?" she thought feverishly, "Am I too thin for him? Are my breasts too small? Are my legs too long, or not long enough? Will he send me away now?" Unable to resist, she risked a surreptitious peek at the man and was relieved to see in his face the unmistakable look of male lust.

 

Reassured, Desi allowed herself to relax a little and take a note of her surroundings. She was not the only woman in the room. At each corner of the bed stood four young female slaves dressed in loosely fitting see-through trousers and nothing else. They held large peacock feathers, which they used to vigorously fan the Emperor, their breasts pleasantly jiggling up-down. Desi’s attention was attracted by a black-skinned beauty with curly hair and thick lips that stood on the Emperor’s right. Desi had never seen black-skinned people before. She heard many stories about them but until today considered that idle fantasy or even superstition. Trying hard not to stare, Desi kept glancing at the exotic black slave and the girl sensed Desi’s interest, treating it with amused tolerance, as though she were an experienced courtesan faced with a green dilettante’s kittenish curiosity.

 

There was a sound of opening and closing door and Desi was surprised to see Lu, already naked and barefoot. Her friend ran toward the bed and jumped on top as if she belonged there; the Emperor scooped her up, and Lu gave him an impertinent kiss. Then she turned to Desi, and smiled. The Emperor put his arms around the blond girl’s shoulders and beckoned Desi to climb the bed. Desi remembered the lessons. Knees tightly pressed together, eyes averted, she carefully sat herself across from him, waited the right amount of time and, still without raising her eyes, slowly spread her legs in a gesture that said, "I belong to you."

 

It was Lu who spoke next. "Hey, Desi, look at this!" She placed Emperor’s manhood on the palm of her hand, and lifted it a little, as though demonstrating exotic fruit. Desi was dismayed to see that the Emperor was still flaccid, but even in this state he was quite impressive. Keeping her eyes on Desi, Lu lowered her head into Emperor’s lap and took him behind her cheek. He smiled and stroke her hair, "My dear northern flower, I know you want to do it again, but it’s no longer your turn. Let the new girl do it." Lu withdrew and in a moment Desi was standing on all four with a big soft piece of man’s flesh in her mouth. Now, what did the Hag say about waking up a sleeping man?

 

Desi was concentrating so hard that she stopped paying attention to what was happening around her. Through her own loud heartbeat and the sucking noise made by her lips she could still hear the sounds of bare feet shuffling on the floor; but they soon stopped and Desi immediately forgot about them. So she never heard the sounds that followed because at that very moment the Emperor’s manhood she held in her mouth abruptly became big, – oh so big! – and rigid. He forced her jaws open to the limit and filled all the space in between, he pushed himself against her tonsils trying to reach even deeper, ripping her mouth and throat apart. Another woman might have recoiled but the Hag had beaten this reflex out of Desi long ago. The girl made several swallowing motions, trying not to gag, and simply allowed him to enter her throat and beyond. Now she was attached to him, like a fish on a fisherman’s hook, unable to get away without his permission. He pulled out a little letting her take a breath, then grabbed her hair and thrust her face into his groin. He repeated it again and again, and Desi was holding on to him not just with her mouth but with all her being. There were no coherent thoughts in her head; Desi was no longer herself, she had become a mere mindless appendage of his body. This hot and hard thing that was going in and out of her with a bruising force was now her whole world; to Desi, the rest of the universe had ceased to exist.

 

And this is why she never heard the sounds of voices, a merry tinkling laugh, then loud knock and simultaneous gasp followed by muted gurgles…

 

The Emperor had to be loud, to catch Desi’s attention. "That’s enough, girl! Now turn around and let me taste your other charms." She promptly obeyed. Without getting up from her hands and knees, she turned and lifted her bottom, giving the Emperor the best possible view. Expecting to be rocked with superhuman power, she clutched at the pillows. She hadn’t had time to completely recover from the oral ministrations: her ears were ringing, vision still swam, and her mouth hurt like hell.

 

Where is Lu? Desi looked around and didn’t find her at first. Then her vision cleared a little and she noticed her friend standing silently near the edge of the bed, facing away. Lu’s head was slightly turned; she appeared to stare at something in the far corner. Desi blinked. There was something amiss about Lu’s posture: she was so unnaturally relaxed that it was not clear how she could stand, slouched like that. She seemed to be turning toward the bed but the way she did it was rather odd – it was her whole body that was turning and she appeared to do it without moving a muscle. The shape of her neck was very wrong, too… and wasn’t she standing a bit too high?

 

Realization hit Desi with the force of a falling rock and the girl shrieked soundlessly. She collapsed on the bed, her limbs refusing to hold her. She saw it now – Lu was not standing! No, she wasn’t standing at all and her feet didn’t even touch the ground. Lu was – Desi gulped – hung by the neck!

 

Of course, Desi had seen hanged people before. She had witnessed plenty of hangings and often even enjoyed them: both commoners and nobility considered executions to be the best kinds of entertainment. Condemned men were usually stripped naked before they were hanged. Their blue swollen penises were a favorite object of lewd jokes – women in the crowd would often point at them, comment on their size, and loudly suggest that their husbands, too, could benefit from a hanging. Female criminals, however, were always hanged fully clothed, lest their dignity would be offended. That did not help much though: what kind of dignity can one have on the gallows? Desi recalled execution of two sisters who caught stealing apples and hastily hanged right at the scene of the crime. The elder sister was lucky; she just twitched a bit and remained still, slowly swaying in the wind. But the younger sister suffered much longer. When the poor girl was lifted in the air she started jerking and kicking madly, as though dancing on an invisible stage. The crowd howled because the girl’s skirts flew so high that they left nothing to imagination. It got even worse: after an especially strong kick the hem of a skirt had snagged on a collar lace and the dying girl’s hung completely exposed to the spectators. Someone standing next to Desi said then that in life the sisters were completely opposite – the younger sister was modest and sweet, and it was the elder one who liked to dance and who would lift her skirts for any stranger.

 

Desi was touched and somewhat appalled by the deaths of those miserable girls but such emotions didn’t last long. Soon, the sisters’ hanging bodies became just another part of scenery – after all, they were simply a couple of executed criminals, not anyone Desi knew or cared about. And here was Lu, Desi’s best friend, the only person Desi ever loved, hanged by the neck just a few feet away. Desi stared in shocked disbelief at the face and body that she knew so well but could hardly recognize anymore. Desi felt, as if in a dream, the Emperor’s strong hands lifting her by the hips. She sensed him entering her from behind and accepted that without thinking or caring. Her body was no longer her own; numb all over, she became mechanical doll that made right moves and produced right sounds without feeling anything.

 

Desi did not see the initial, violent stages of the hanging: she had her back to the gallows and was too occupied to hear any sounds. What she saw now were Lu’s last agonies. The hanged girl was twisting slowly on the rope as if she wanted to exhibit all sides of herself, one after the other. When Lu was turned away, Desi could see her bound wrists flexing slightly, the muscles of her buttocks stiffening and relaxing, and her long golden hair, now spilled across her back, shaking with the tiny movements of her head. But when Lu, after making a slow half turn, would show the front of her body, Desi couldn’t take her eyes off the hanged girl’s face.

 

The face was the scariest part – no longer the beautiful face Desi remembered but a dreadful mockery. In an awful contrast with Lu’s pale breasts and stomach, it was colored an unnatural shade of purple. Lu’s nose was dripping; her lips pouted unhappily; the cheeks were puffy and wet with sweat and tears. Lu’s face had a strained, frozen expression; her features were deformed as though remade into the mask of suffering. Her eyes were tightly shut, which made the girls seem asleep – and having a horrible dream.

 

The rope made a deep groove in the hanging girl throat; it twisted and bended her neck, turning her head weirdly, as though Lu wanted to look behind her shoulder but stopped in mid-movement. Lu’s body was twisting in the air back and forth, back and forth, without stopping; While Desi watched, Lu would reach the end of the turn, halt for a moment, and go into the opposite direction where her gyrations were repeated. The four slave girls looked on impassively; they’ve obviously seen it all before and were used to such displays; but poor Desi was in hell. With desperation, Desi thought herself trapped forever in this terrifying nightmare; she could not even escape by fainting: the hard rhythmic thrusts she received from behind denied her even that comfort.

 

Nothing lasts forever, though. Desi noticed a subtle change – somehow, Lu’s body became a degree more inert than before. Desi looked down and saw a tiny rivulet of clear liquid running inside the hanged girl’s thighs. Did that mean that Lu was dead? Just as Desi wondered about that, she was pulled back with a force that made her cry out. A second later, the Emperor exploded inside her, filling her to the brink with his hot liquids. His deed done, he held her a while longer and withdrew. Released at last, Desi fell on her side and curled into a ball. "All my questions are answered," she thought bleakly. "Now I know the secret of my Master’s perversion. He—"

 

Desi started to sob miserably. Even in her mind, she could not bring herself to complete the thought.

 

* * *

 

In a fortnight, Desi was once again summoned to the Emperor’s bedroom. This was, she was told, a very good sign; it meant the Master liked her and wasn’t tired of her yet. The Emperor met her at the door. He easily lifted her off her feet, carried her to the bed, and laid her on top of the pillows. After ripping off her expensive silk bodice, he spent a minute or two gazing at her naked body and then he began kissing her breasts. Desi was flattered and very pleased – evidently, the man wanted her. And she found that she wanted him too. She wriggled and squirmed and moaned as her body responded to his kisses; she felt his mouth wander and suddenly she was floating on clouds of ecstasy, weightless as a puff of air herself.

 

There was something that was pulling her down, though. She was afraid to hear a sound of opening door.

 

But the minutes were flowing and still no one was coming. "Oh please gods," Desi was praying silently, "Please let there be no deaths today. Only love." The Emperor was having his way with her; his mouth was moving ever lower and now his tongue reached her nether regions, driving her mad. "Drink me!" Desi cried and he did, making her quake with joy until she was nearly at the point of fainting. And still no one was coming and she allowed herself to hope…

 

It was at this moment that she heard the soft creaking of the hinges.

 

The woman who was going to hang tonight was that black-skinned slave that Desi remembered from the last time. The girl did not show any outward signs of distress; her chiseled dark face was calm as she walked to the bed. There, she joined the couple and, inserting her body between them, invited Desi to take a closer look. The slave woman had strong and muscular, yet very feminine, body, with wide hips, narrow waist, and heavy pear-shaped breasts – the biggest pair of mammaries Desi had ever seen. The black girl put the Emperor’s hands on her breasts and let him squeeze them, obviously enjoying his attention. Then placed her own hands on his chest, bared her incredibly white teeth, and bit his nipples. She was working on him for a while using her mouth together with her breasts and ample buttocks, and when she was finished with him she turned to the concubine. Desi winced but accepted her caresses under the watchful gaze of her Master. She even enjoyed them, after a fashion, but still couldn’t stop thinking about what was about to happen. The thoughts made her tremble with fear. "Why are you so afraid?" she chided herself, "It’s not you who is going to die tonight." But reproaches didn’t help and her unreasonable body continued to shiver.

 

"Time to go," said the black girl. She kissed the Emperor one last time and was off the bed. Few minutes later she was already swinging in the noose, fighting it furiously like a dying animal. Her legs were flailing; she strained her elbows to break the rope that bound her hands and her weighty breasts swayed almost independently from the rest of her body. The girl’s once beautiful face was distorted by a hideous grimace; her thick lips were no longer red but gray and glistening with spittle. Eventually, after many futile attempts to escape the noose she must have realized that her death was inevitable, so she stopped her aimless thrashing and hung still, concentrating. After a second, she bent her legs and lifted them, spreading obscenely, until her knees were pressed against her breasts; she held them there for a moment, then brought them down with all her strength. Her body jerked violently. She repeated it again, and again; and every time she did it, the rope squeezed her neck even tighter and her scarlet tongue, already longer than seemed humanly possible, protruded even further from her mouth.

 

That sight was the last thing Desi remembered. She never knew what happened next or even how she got back to her own bed that night, yet even as her brain ceased to work her training took over and she continued to perform for the Master. The Emperor remained quite satisfied, and so the night visits continued.

 

And Desi was happy to give herself to her man. She even forgot her lessons, almost – a real phallus was so unlike any imitation; no dull, boring woody could compare to the hot flesh that pierced her body, stretched it, filled it up; a man’s cock was a magic key that fit her keyhole perfectly and opened for her a door to heaven.

 

But even at the pinnacle of her bliss Desi could not forget what was occurring just a few steps from her.

 

Fortunately, most of the time Desi was too occupied to watch the suffering of the dying women; more often than not, she was either standing on her knees, head low and mouth full of man’s flesh; or she was lying on her back, legs wide-open, face buried in deep chest hair. Still, Desi could hear the sounds – those terrible sounds the meaning of which she now understood very well. And, when it was over; when the Emperor, having had his way with Desi, would leave her alone, she couldn’t help but see the aftermath – yet another limp corpse, which only recently was a living, breathing, smiling woman.

 

The Emperor was getting his entertainment material from two sources. The first was a special group of female slaves he called "my air dancers." Any slave girl in the palace could volunteer to be a dancer. Those who were accepted were treated like princesses, pampered beyond belief, and in exchange, they were to carry out three simple duties. Taking turns, four at a time, they were to stand by the Master’s bed and to fan him with peacock feathers while he enjoyed his concubine. Should he want to subject them to his desires and humiliations, they were to submit without a word. And when the time came, they were to climb a low stool and, with a rope around their necks, take a final step into the void. There were only twenty-four dancers at any given time, and the turnover was awfully high. Yet the dancers were easily replaced. There was no lack of girls who desired to become one of the chosen few and were willing to pay the ultimate price. One kiss by the Emperor was better than all the long years as a slave, and, after all, death by hanging was said to be easy and sweet. Everyone has to die eventually, so why not spend the rest of your days in the lap of luxury and end your life in a glorious display?

 

Performers of the other sort went to their deaths far less willingly. These were simply common criminals: the women and girls sentenced to hang for some offense against the law, like theft, disobedience, or immoral behavior. Normally, such offenders were executed in the middle of a town square, surrounded by jeering mobs; but few of them, those selected for their youth or unusual good looks, were sent to the palace, where they were given a rare privilege – to expire before the eyes of the Emperor himself. These gallows birds could be dangerous, and for that reason they were not allowed to approach the bed but were quickly stripped, dragged straight to the rope, and hoisted up without delay. Desi disliked such executions even more than other kinds of hangings; she couldn’t stand to hear the tears and pleadings.

 

With time, Desi’s horror and revulsion had been whittled away by habit, until she could watch a hanging from beginning to end and feel almost nothing. Then came curiosity, at first purely practical. Now Desi would deliberately listen to the sounds made by the process of hanging and, from time to time, would even steal a glace at the gallows to check on the progress. When a hanged body began to slow down, it was Desi’s cue to prepare for the explosive conclusion: Desi observed that the Master would often time his culmination to coincide with the victim’s death, so she had to be ready to receive and accommodate his voluminous outpour. Nonetheless, Desi felt queasy after the hangings were over, and she still avoided looking at the dead girls’ ugly, bloated faces. To her, these were still too dreadful to contemplate.

 

One night, Desi thought she heard a familiar voice. It was the second execution that evening, with one freshly strangled corpse already cut down and carried out. For a whole hour, Desi had been battered by her Master’s iron muscles, and now she rested, lying on her side with her back to the gallows. Now, that woman who was about to be executed – Desi definitely knew her from somewhere; but then, she knew the girl put to death earlier today. The first execution was a palace maid who accused another servant of stealing a necklace but couldn’t prove the charge and ended up hanging herself. Well, perhaps they decided to execute the accused too, just in case she did steal the thing. That would’ve explained the loud and tedious protestations of innocence. No matter how curious Desi was, she didn’t turn her head but patiently waited until the woman’s unpleasant whining was replaced by the familiar creaking of the rope. Only then she ventured a glance.

 

What Desi saw made her do a double take, then giggle hysterically. The hanging woman’s face was twisted and discolored by suffocation, – eyes bulged out, mouth foaming, saliva dripping from her chin onto her breasts and stomach, – yet Desi had no trouble recognizing her. She was the infamous Hag herself!

 

Once the initial giddiness subsided, the girl settled to watch with glee how her hated former tutor, now deliciously helpless, was floundering in the air. "Hello, teacher!" Desi jeered, "What a beautiful necktie you are wearing! But where is the rest of your clothes?" Desi laughed at her own joke. "Hey, will you give me a lesson now, or are you too busy? Oh, I see, you are not ready yet: forgot to take your woodies. Well, I guess dangling at the end of the rope can make you forgetful."

 

Abruptly, Desi rolled off the bed and stood in front of the suspended body. She grabbed the older woman’s sagging breasts, squeezed them hard, and sneered, "You enjoyed doing that to me, didn’t you?" There was no response but Desi couldn’t be stopped. She squashed the Hag’s nipples with her fingers, then surprised herself by thrusting her palm between the dying woman’s moist thighs. For some reason, this made her howl with laughter. "You like it? Now let me give you my lesson. Taste your own cunt, bitch!" Desi pulled her hand out and smeared the wetness across the Hag’s blue lips. The miserable wretch squirmed and twisted her mouth; most likely, she simply made another useless attempt to inhale, but to Desi it looked as though the woman was trying to say something.

 

"What is it?" hissed the girl, "Did you like my lesson? Great, I can teach you more! I wish I still had my woodies to plug your filthy holes but I’ve thrown them all away. See, I no longer need imitations. Look at that!" Desi turned and pointed toward the bed, "That is a genuine dick, not your stupid wood. Do you know what I intend to do with it? I will sit on it, and kiss it, and suck it, and then I’ll make it cum in my mouth! Can your woodies shoot cum? I didn’t think so."

 

Suddenly, Desi had nothing to say anymore. She frowned and stared into space for a while, seemingly forgetting the Hag. She absentmindedly wiped her hands on the hanging woman’s buttocks, then came to herself and looked up sharply. She smiled, put her hands against the naked woman’s soft, bare stomach, and pushed with all her strength. The body swung far back, then returned with force; jumping to the side, Desi dodged the dead weight. The sad human pendulum swayed violently back and forth, but in a minute it slowed down and began to leave a trail of drops on the floor. Desi looked approvingly at her handiwork. "I am done with you," the girl informed her former teacher. She turned around and walked away to join her lover.

 

This time, Desi didn’t wait for the Emperor to initiate their lovemaking but immediately jumped on top of him, straddled his hips, and with a single move impaled herself on his engorged manhood. She rode him, rocking up and down, whooping with wild abandon, and shaking her breasts into his face; then, still on top, she ground her mouth into his groin and gulped him deep down her throat. After she drained him dry Desi paused to swallow but she was not done yet, and the break was short. Impatient to continue, she gave him a predatory smile, grabbed him roughly, and, purring like a large feral cat, attacked him once more.

 

* * *

 

That night changed something in Desi. From now on, a spectacle of hanging stirred more feelings in her than mere morbid curiosity.

 

Despite herself, Desi started to enjoy the ancient, unrehearsed dance routines of the hanged. Instead of trying to look away, she now devoured every detail of that unique dance – those arching backs, stretched necks, jiggling bosoms. She began to see a strange, grim beauty in grotesque contortions of nude female forms, and she understood that even the seemingly repulsive parts – the purple faces, the bloated tongues, the leaking bottoms – were essential elements of the beauty.

 

But before long, Desi’s pleasure ceased to be purely esthetic. It was some time before she admitted it to herself, but little by little Desi grew to be aroused by the sight of the dangling, dying bodies. Right after the doomed girls were raised into the air to begin their hopeless struggles, Desi’s face would redden, her nipples, harden, and her pussy begin to drip with happy dampness. The Emperor recognized this long before Desi admitted it to herself, and so, from then on, he did his best to accommodate his lovely concubine’s emerging appetites. He let her watch in peace while he sucked and nibbled on her nipples to heighten her arousal, and, when she was ready, he would gently take her from behind so that they both could face in the same direction. Absorbed by the display, Desi would press and grind her soft round ass against the man’s hips, letting his manhood find its way in.

 

From behind, like wild horses – that was how they did it for several nights in a row, and a girl after a hanged girl danced and died for them. Sometimes, the Emperor would take the wrong entrance, and Desi would groan and stiffen for a moment but then relax and allow his rod to skewer her. She did it more out of duty than out of pleasure: wrapping her tight, vulnerable sphincter around his huge thing was very painful, but not nearly as painful as having your windpipes crushed by a noose; so if the Emperor’s dancers were willing to suffer that for their Master, she too could do her part.

 

An hour or two before his encounter with concubine the Emperor visited the dancers’ quarters to select the stars of tonight’s performance. One night Desi asked permission to accompany him and ended up helping to make the choices. "So, whom will we hang today?" the Emperor mused aloud, "Should it be the tall leggy girl over here? Or perhaps that busty redhead?" Both girls could hear the Master perfectly but neither betrayed any emotion. "Let’s do the redhead first, and after her, maybe this Gypsy slut," Desi replied thoughtfully. "The tall one I’d like to save for later when I am in the mood for long legs and high kicks." The Emperor listened to Desi’s suggestion, and a few hours later the redhead and the Gipsy were dangling from the gallows side by side. From then on, the joint visits had become routine.

 

On the long, boring nights, when the Emperor was gone on his royal business, Desi found her own way to the dancer’s chambers. Talking and laughing, taunting the eunuch guards with their nudity, the girls relaxed in the steam baths and exchanged the gossip of the day. The dancers’ conversation had two constant subjects, sex and death, which, for them, was one and the same, seamlessly intertwined with one another. None of the dancers were afraid of their imminent hanging; all of them were convinced that it only looked messy and painful but actually wasn’t that bad for the hanged ones. Many even believed that there was a good time to be had on the gallows. Desi heard a story of a woman who was already hanged once by her former master – she disobeyed his command in front of other lords, and for that was raped, then strung up on the spot; but the rope had snapped at the last moment, and so, according to the custom, she was spared. The woman described her experience in great detail. Sure, she was scared at first, but once she was raised and started to dangle, she suddenly saw a big, red naked demon appear before her. At first, he was rocking her tenderly, turning her around and around; then he embraced her body, gave her a sloppy wet kiss on the mouth, and made love to her right in the air. Nothing she ever did with mortal men could compare to that ecstasy; ever since that time, she wanted to hang again and for that reason joined the dancers. Desi found the demon story bizarre. Still, she kept thinking about it, recalling how some hanging girls did seem to be caressed by an invisible lover, their nipples hard, hips moving passionately, and pussy lips invitingly red and dripping… and then there were hanged men, with their erect, squirting cocks. Well, perhaps there was something to these wild tales, after all.

 

After the talk was done, Desi and the girls played their favorite games – the games of skill, the games of chance, and eventually, the secret games of flesh. Such trifles as chastity, propriety, or a good name meant nothing to those who expected to be executed very soon, and in a most humiliating fashion; and so the girls eagerly responded to the concubine’s advances. As a result, Desi got to know some of them quite intimately; but even when enjoying their pretty bodies she remembered Lu and did not allow herself to get too attached. Yes, it would be nice to once again have a girlfriend and a soulmate, Desi thought, but would not be for long, and how would she feel later, when she saw the lifeless body of her new friend twisting slowly in the noose?

 

Desi carefully kept her distance but she never played mistress, never treated the girls as slaves, but always as equals. She understood that they were her kindred spirits whose task was similar to hers. The roles of a dancer and a concubine were different, their fates were very unlike each other, but the ultimate purpose of their whole existence was the same: their Master’s amusement and pleasure. To Desi, that was the highest aim possible and she was perfectly content with her own role. She was sure that the dancers, too, were content with their roles, but she still somewhat pitied them – the poor things could only play their parts but once…

 

* * *

 

One evening, Desi lay supine on the bed, waiting for the Master to finish undressing her; he was removing her last underskirts, and, to help him do it quickly, she arched her back, lifting her hips as high as she could. Naked at last, she closed her eyes, expecting his customary kisses, but nothing followed, so, after a long, uncomfortable pause, she opened them again and squinted at him, confused.

 

He beamed at her playfully. "I have an announcement to make. Tonight is exactly one year since I saw you for the first time and, to celebrate that, I will give you a gift."

 

"A gift?" What did he have in mind? Desi knew that it wouldn’t be the usual gold bracelets or necklaces; those trinkets she got quite regularly.

 

"Yes, a gift. It’s really a person: tonight, I am going to hang someone special."

 

Did he expect her to guess? Desi searched his eyes for clues. "Is it a boy?"

 

The Emperor shook his head. "No, not a boy. Although, thanks for letting me know your tastes run this way; I might do it next time. No. It’s special girl – neither a criminal, nor a dancer."

 

He turned to the doors and clapped his hands. "Now!"

 

The doors admitted a naked pint-sized girl with happy, angelic face framed by thick braids, who immediately rushed inside, almost skipping, but then apparently remembered her manners and halted, lowering her head demurely. At the first glance, Desi took her for a child: she was slight and slender, and so short that the top of her head barely reached Desi’s shoulder. Soon, though, Desi saw her mistake. The strange girl was small but by no means little – her hips were, to scale, wide enough for adult woman, her breasts were tiny yet round, and her groin was already covered by light fuzz. Her large hazel eyes were shy now, even meek, but they were not naïve.

 

The girl curtsied – a strange thing to do when you are naked. "Your majesty," she whispered and blushed, the color spreading from her face to her neck, chest, and shoulders.

 

"Welcome to our humble abode, dear," the Emperor said mildly. "Desi, this is Kara. You remember her."

 

Now that the Emperor mentioned it, Desi did remember her. Kara was here when they were hanging that crazy young traitress, – Desi hadn’t thought about the miserable little lunatic in ages. Yes, now it was coming back to her. The executed girl was an awkward gangly creature with an honest peasant face and a boy’s body. She was caught spying for the rebels, tortured, and sentenced to hang. The little heroine was prepared to die for her cause but once she learned where and how she would be executed, she got awfully upset. While she was led to the gallows she tried to shout insults at the Emperor but soon broke down and cried, embarrassed by her nakedness, until her sobs were cut short by the noose.

 

The spy girl’s gallows dance was less than mediocre – she just flopped gracelessly once or twice and then hung still, slowly turning blue. Well, what else can you expect from a dumb country wench? The little troublemaker’s death left so little impression on Desi that she could hardly recall it now. Yet, as it turned out, she did not forget Kara’s presence – perhaps, because the girl stood out.

 

At the time, Desi took Kara for just another serving maid. The castle was full of them and their male counterparts, who always either hurried to and fro, or stood in place and fiddled with something or other; they were so ubiquitous that after the first few days Desi stopped noticing them. The Emperor’s bedchamber wasn’t any different – someone was coming and going through it all the time because unlike the purely decorative dancers, the servants had real jobs to do – they lighted candles and poured wine, bound the hands of those who were about to hang, cleaned up messes on the floor after the hangings were over, and carried out many other small but necessary tasks. Neither the Emperor himself, nor his concubine gave these attendants any mind.

 

Most servants simply did their work and paid no attention to anything else. The few curious ones who did look around would rather observe the bed than to the gallows: to the common folk, watching the Emperor screw his broad was vastly more entertaining than another stupid hanging that one could see anywhere. In this respect, Kara was unusual. Desi didn’t know her name then; but she couldn’t help but notice a silent, diminutive girl in a simple dress who sat quietly in a corner and watched with rapt attention that night’s uninspired performance. She was completely enthralled by the show; her childlike face was lit with excitement, the big shining eyes were taking in every detail, every tiny movement of the dying body – obviously, the girl did not share Desi’s disdain.

 

Kara’s reaction was so unusual that Desi felt compelled to find out more. On her next visit of the dancers’ quarter she asked them about this remarkable girl but they did not know much themselves. The only thing they knew for sure was that Kara – they recognized her immediately from Desi’s description – definitely was not an ordinary servant. Nobody was certain where she came from, but the dancers did hear some fantastic fourth-hand rumors, which they promptly relayed to Desi. Desi listened to them but did not believe their tales even for a second. After that, she gave the matter no further thought and eventually forgot the whole thing – until today.

 

"My, aren’t you are beautiful," the Emperor said to Kara. Her face colored even more abundantly. "So what’s the occasion for your visit?"

 

"I wish to be hanged," the girl answered simply.

 

The Emperor frowned. " Hmm. Right to the point. But are you sure you want to do this?"

 

Kara looked him straight in the eyes. "Yes, I am sure."

 

"And what would you parents say to that?"

 

The girl reacted with unexpected forcefulness. "I don’t care what my parents say! They don’t own me anymore! All they want is to marry me off to that rich fool who is old enough to be my grandfather! And I’d rather die than to be buried alive like that!" Kara stopped to take a breath, then continued, calmer now. "My lord, please hear me out. Last month I reached the age of majority. I am my own woman now and the right to petition you directly."

 

The man looked thoughtful. "So you are and so you do, Lady Kara."

 

Lady Kara? Desi was stunned. So the rumors were true! The girl really was a daughter of an old patrician family and the Emperor’s distant relative, just like the dancers told her. There even was a definite resemblance between the two; Desi could see it now. What else had the dancers say? Well, according to them, Kara begged the Emperor to be admitted into his bedchamber, which he allowed, provided that she was disguised as a servant. Apparently, the girl knew the Emperor’s secret and wanted to see a dance. This, in and out of itself, was not unusual. Aristocracy being what it was, some of the Emperor’s closest friends – even one or two ladies – would sometimes visit him in his lair to participate in the debauchery. But it’s one thing to watch an erotic hanging and enjoy it; it’s quite another to volunteer yourself for one. Now Desi understood why Kara was so absorbed by the spectacle. She must’ve been imagining herself in place of the hanged girl.

 

The Emperor was speaking. "Lady, Kara, you certainly have the right to petition me. So petition away. But remember," he added sternly, "in order to make it lawful, you have to spell it out in front of the witnesses. So start in the beginning, make it formal, and don’t forget even a smallest detail."

 

"Very well, your majesty." Kara closed her eyes and spoke in singsong, as though reciting a memorized lesson.

 

"Oh great Emperor, hear my humble plea. In your infinite wisdom, et cetera, please grant me a boon of an honorable death. The manner of death that I most desire is a proper slow hanging, whereby my body is suspended by the neck until I die of strangulation. I humbly request to be afforded three privileges, as befits a highborn lady. Firstly, I shall be hanged at the height commensurate to my station, which is high indeed. Secondly, a noble lady must die by a noble instrument and therefore I am entitled to hang from a cord made of the best and the most delicate silk. And thirdly, I wish to be spared the indignity of the common sackcloth." She reddened. "You understand what this means."

 

"I certainly do," replied the Emperor.

 

So did Desi. It was a common knowledge that aristocratic women were executed naked, which was a privilege, and a jealously guarded one.

 

"… I do not wish," the girl was saying, "a quick death by a broken neck, nor by spilling of blood. I understand that after I am dead my body becomes the property of the Crown. So this is my plea, as witnessed by my lord Emperor and…umm… the lady next to him."

 

The Emperor made a great show of deciding. Dropping the formal attitude, Kara openly begged, "Please, Your Majesty! I promise you won’t be disappointed."

 

The Emperor thought some more. "Not a bad speech," he said at length, "You have a lot to learn though. Your list of conditions was precise but, unfortunately, not precise enough. To give you some examples: I could hang you by your neck and some other limb. Or I could strangle you first and hang you later. Or I could postpone your hanging by sixty years. Your conditions do not provide for these contingencies."

 

Kara’s expression was getting darker by the second and the Emperor chuckled, "I am just teasing! Hereby, I decide to grant your wish and order you hanged – on a silk cord, until you are dead, and so on, just as you wanted. And no tricks! You have my word for it. "

 

Kara clapped her hands. "Oh, thank you, Your Majesty!"

 

Brimming with excitement, she turned toward the gallows, where, hung like a holiday wreath, a lonely noose awaited her patiently. It was, as promised, fine silk, thin, shiny, and bright blue.

 

"How beautiful!" Kara marveled.

 

"It will be even more beautiful when you are decorating it," responded the Emperor.

 

Kara smiled at the compliment and continued to contemplate the noose, touching her throat unconsciously as though measuring herself for a fit.

 

"We could go straight to the hanging part," offered the Emperor.

 

The girl bristled. "I am not some petty thief to be hanged right away! I can please my Emperor in bed, just like other girls."

 

"What a temper!" the Emperor murmured admiringly.

 

Desi gave Kara a hand and helped her climb on the bed. The girl didn’t waste any time but poured fragrant oil into her cupped palm and began massaging the Emperor’s body, starting with his back and swiftly moving to other parts. Her hands were nimble and skillful but it was clear that Kara had never touched a man before: she blushed profusely every time she had to handle his genitals. That did not stop her for a moment though and before long, she began a different kind of massage. Instead of applying the oil with her hand, she now poured it directly onto his skin and spread it around with her mouth. Naturally, after few minutes of these ministrations the Emperor was fully erect, his giant rod glistening with oil and saliva.

 

Presently, Kara switched to Desi, beginning first at the shoulders, moving to her breasts and stomach, and finally coming to rest between Desi’s legs. Agile little fingers poked inside Desi’s innermost spaces, rubbing in warm oil that was instantly licked off by a tiny but vigorous tongue. Hot waves were radiating from Desi’s womb, weak at first but getting stronger every second, making her stomach muscles contract with relaxing sweetness. Desi looked downwards along the length of her body. Between her raised thighs Kara’s head was bobbing up and down, raven hair flying, mouth making soft wet sounds. Unable to remain silent anymore, Desi moaned. Kara heard that and, without stopping or taking her tongue out of the older girl’s pussy, she glanced up, her innocent face radiant; their eyes locked on each other, and Desi climaxed ferociously.

 

When she came back to herself, Kara was already some distance away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. The Emperor, who didn’t like to be left out, thought it was time to get back into the game. He grabbed Kara by the elbow. "You are still a virgin, aren’t you?" She nodded. "Let me fix it," he said. All of a sudden Kara looked uncomfortable. The man laughed. "So you beg me to hang you by your neck but at the same time you are afraid to have you cherry broken? Unbelievable!" – "I can help," interjected Desi, "I am good at breaking cherries. Right, Soola?" – "Yes, mistress," answered a young olive-skinned girl, the newest addition to the dancing troupe.

 

Desi laid Kara on her back and asked the Emperor to help. He obliged by pinning down Kara’s arms and legs. Desi opened the girl’s virgin lips, inserted a finger, and let Kara get accustomed to the unfamiliar sensation. After a while she put in the second finger, then she waited some more and added the third one and after that, the fourth… Abruptly, she made a fist. The girl yipped and jerked, then relaxed. Desi pulled out her hand and looked at the bloody fingers. "It wasn’t that bad, was it?" the Emperor grinned at Kara, still pale from the pain. "And now you are ready for me."

 

He stretched next to Kara’s spread-eagled body and lowered his muscular bulk on top of her, squeezing the girl’s fragile shoulders with a bear hug. He made several attempts to enter Kara, all unsuccessful; until Desi took the matter into her own hands and guided him from behind until he was partially in. Now Kara was literally buried by his mass, almost completely hidden below the man except for the pair of thin legs that were sticking out in the air from under the both sides of his torso. "No way she can breathe, crushed like that," thought Desi. The Emperor pumped Kara’s body a few times, trampling and flattening her with his mighty thrusts, but soon he must have realized that he couldn’t go in any deeper without breaking the girl, so he stopped, muttered, "It’s not working," and rolled away from Kara.

 

The girl was stricken. She whimpered, hid her face in the pillows, and started to sob quietly, looking so pathetic that Desi took pity on her. "You can still please the Master," she whispered in her ear and Kara understood. She sidled back to the Emperor, laid next to him, and, lifting herself on one elbow, leaned over his groin. She licked away all traces of blood on the man’s flesh, then opened her mouth as far as her jaws would go and tried to take his huge knob into her tiny mouth. After several heroic attempts she just barely succeeded. Seeing Kara go goggle-eyed with effort, Desi chortled but quickly regretted it: the poor girl was in tears. So, chastened, Desi decided to make herself useful. She crawled closer to the couple, placed her head under Kara’s, and gave her attention to the man’s shaft and balls.

 

For a time, the girls worked in tandem – until, by a subtle quickening of his breath, Desi knew that the man was going to explode. Oblivious to signs, Kara continued to suck away: the inexperienced girl had no idea what was about to happen. Desi thought to warn her but before she could move it was already too late. Stunned by the sudden outpour, Kara reeled and threw her head backwards; her jaws were hanging open, mouth visibly full with sticky white substance, much of which Kara swallowed by reflex. Still, enough of it remained to drip out from the corner of her mouth. Kara made a face.  "Eww! That is the nastiest thing I ever tasted!" – "Then stop wasting it and give it to me," Desi retorted sharply. Without waiting for Kara’s reaction, Desi grabbed the younger girl’s face and held it firmly. She licked away all the stray drops that landed on Kara’s cheeks and chin, and when she was done with that, she kissed the girl’s wet lips and drank the pungent salty liquid straight out of her mouth.

 

The man was slumped on the pillows, exhausted. Desi looked at him and at the bewildered Kara and suddenly felt a stab of jealousy. Never before she’d seen her man brought to completion in this way by another woman – as far as Desi knew, only she could accomplish that. Now Desi was upset. "Uh-oh," she thought to herself, "I hope he doesn’t get too enamored with that snotty little blue blood,"

 

The Emperor gently touched Kara’s cheek. "Lady Kara, I am very pleased with you tonight. I know, not everything worked out to our satisfaction, but…" He hesitated a little; then continued, "But the first time is often hard. Given a little practice, you will do better." He began to talk faster. "I know I gave my word that you’ll be hanged – and you will! – but there is no reason to do it today. What I am saying is… well, there are many advantages in becoming a concubine, even for a noble lady like you. I know, " he added quickly, " I know it’s a hard decision, and you don’t have to decide right away. We’ll discuss it later, after you give it some thought, and if there is anything you wish now, anything at all…"

 

The girl was looking over the man’s head, ignoring him. Desi turned to see what she was looking at. It was the noose. Kara did not say anything for a time, only smiled dreamily while she contemplated the festive-looking noose; then she spoke, addressing no one in particular.

 

"What a beautiful collar, so soft yet so tight! So very proud and unique that you don’t even need a dress to go with it. And very fashionable nowadays, too. Not so long ago, two of my sisters wore it for their first and only ball, – oh how pretty they were, dancing before me like two fluttering butterflies. And ever since that day I desired to try it on. Don’t you think it will suit me?" Kara asked and looked at the Emperor as though noticing him for the first time. "Yes, my lord, there is something I wish tonight. I wish to put it on at last."

 

There was no more arguing. A couple of serving boys carried in a painted wooden pillar, raised it upright, and placed a stepladder next to it. They helped Kara ascend the steps, then promptly removed the ladder: the girl wasn’t coming down again. Once on top, Kara teetered precariously at first; then she stood still, afraid to move. The pillar was very tall, twice a man’s height, so the girl was going to receive the high hanging that she wanted; but the thing was only two feet across. Kara had to be very careful not to fall until her neck was safely in the noose.

 

"Do you need any help?" asked the Emperor, "You don’t have to do it yourself, you know. We have perfectly good hangmen and hangwomen just for this task." Frozen in fearful immobility, Kara looked remarkably like a nude statue of a nymph on top of a column. The question broke her concentration and made her throw a quick look down at him. She made a grunting sound. "Thank you but no. What would I be good for if I couldn’t even hang myself?"

 

The first thing Kara did once she found her balance was to reach for the rope. She touched it cautiously, almost shyly, ran her fingers along its length, caressing it like a lover. She put the noose over her head, doing it with such great reverence as though it were a precious diamond necklace. She pulled her braids from under the rope and tightened the knot; then she visibly relaxed. With the rope securely around her neck, she was no longer afraid to make a misstep. Happy now, she beamed at her audience down below. "Look at me, I am the tallest one in the room now!" she exclaimed exuberantly, "My dream’s come true at last!" She winked mischievously, then tilted her head to a side, puffed her cheeks, and stuck out her tongue, making a fair impression of a hanged corpse. "See, I am already hanging," she giggled, unable to contain her mirth. The audience did not seem to appreciate her joke though, and Kara sobered up. "Sorry about that. I know I mustn’t make you wait. Now it’s time to hang for real."

 

She gave the rope a precise tug, making something clink inside the gallows’ hidden mechanism. The rope retracted, removing all slack, and the girl was forced to stand on her toes. Her face was lifted up toward the ceiling, cheeks flushed with color, eyes closed, lips parted; her whole body risen as if awaiting a kiss from a lover – the kind of lover that will embrace you, hold you tight, and never let you go, until death.

 

"Ready when you are", called out the Emperor. Kara tried to nod but discovered that she was no longer able to do so. Instead, she just made a small good-bye sign with her hand and pushed away the pedestal. The pillar started to topple, unhurriedly at first, going faster with each instant. The girl, now suspended by the neck, remained in place. The rope went taut, compelling Kara to assume the customary pose of the freshly hanged: head forced to the side, toes stretched, stomach muscles tense. For a moment, she simply hung there, stiff and motionless, until, with great noise, the pillar had crashed to the floor. The girl jumped, as though startled by the sound, and began to run on air.

 

Desi was sitting in her lover’s lap, bouncing up and down, her eyes fixed on Kara’s little pink toes that were flashing frantically high above. Desi knew well why Kara was kicking empty air with such a violent energy. The hanged girl was in terrible pain right now: the rope was squeezing and crushing her throat, her neck vertebrae were pulled apart by the weight of her body; even though to Desi it all looked like a merry dance, the girl was really suffering.

 

Suddenly, Desi felt dizzy. She panicked, but soon realized that, out of some odd unconscious sympathy with the strangling girl, she was holding her breath and didn’t even notice it until the discomfort had become acute. Desi inhaled deeply and felt guilty about being able to breathe at will: the poor hanged girl no longer had this luxury.

 

Kara’s face was partially obscured by braids, which gradually moved to the front and were shaking slightly, tickling her breasts. The eyes could still be seen plainly though. They expressed an extraordinary mix of emotions: there was misery of pain in them, but also pride and some strange, unspeakable satisfaction. Most newly hanged, whose hands were left unbound, either tried to undo the noose, or grabbed the rope above their heads. Not Kara: the girl kept her hands rigidly along the sides, fists clenched, making an effort not to hinder her asphyxiation. She was fully conscious, in control, and right where she wanted to be.

 

The Emperor grasped Desi by the waist and, without taking himself out of her, laid the woman on her back and covered her with his body. Desi strained and shifted under him so that she could still see the gallows. That was not easy, and in the process, Desi lost the sight of Kara. When she saw her again, the hanging girl’s movements had already changed.

 

Her legs were now scissoring – moving apart quickly, then gradually coming together and twisting around each other. The people on the bed had excellent view of Kara’s privates, and, despite herself, Desi could not take her eyes off the girl’s exposed cleft. If she looked closely, she could even make out the muscles contracting in the vagina. Desi felt dirty doing this to Kara – some things were not meant to be seen by intruding eyes. But on the other hand, Kara knew that every little embarrassing detail of her death would be observed by strangers, and it was her own choice to hang like this, with nothing hidden or obscured. Didn’t she say she wanted a proper hanging? And what hanging can be called proper unless the victim is utterly humiliated?

 

So, it meant that what Desi was doing was not an intrusion but only fulfillment of the dying girl’s last wishes. This thought made Desi feel a lot better. The Emperor, of course, was enjoying the view without the least trace of guilt. On the contrary, it made him hornier than ever. He pounded Desi mercilessly, treating her body like mallet treats a piece of clay; the more shamelessly Kara exposed herself, the stronger he forced himself upon his concubine. It was as though he was trying to reach Kara through Desi and nail two women at once – the one in his arms and the other in the noose. And Desi did not mind. Desi was no longer jealous; she blessed her rival and gave herself to the passion of her man.

 

The Emperor snorted in the way he always did before erupting and with a mighty roar unleashed a powerful torrent of sperm. But the night was not over. Kara hasn’t been finished yet and, therefore, neither was the Emperor. The remarkable girl was still alive and kicking, still filling the Emperor with hot desire; just one glance at her dangling, writhing form, and he was ready to begin yet again. He devoured Desi like a madman, turning her body into soft mush; he made her climax continuously until she was worn and sore, and very, very happy. That was when she understood, at last, the real nature of the Master’s gift.

 

But how did Kara last so long? Her constitution was part of the answer – Kara was short and slim, her body light as a feather. The noose was kinder to her than it would be to a more bodacious woman. Yet in the past, this noose welcomed other such girls and none of them even came close to matching Kara’s incredible endurance.

 

Desi thought she knew the full story. For Kara, hanging to death was not a duty; it was great fun – and she strove to extend it. In this respect, she was different. Desi recalled other girls’ reactions the moment a rope was put over their heads. Most of them were merely resigned to their fate; some were plainly afraid; others showed a bit of reluctant curiosity; and there were a few so madly in love with the Emperor that they were willing to die simply to attract his attention for a short time. But only Kara was looking forward to being hanged just for the sake of experience. The girl was a pervert, same as the Emperor – her perversion a mirror image of his. And if so, she must’ve had practice.

 

Desi imagined how Kara was preparing for this moment, the highest point of her short life. Well, she obviously learned a lot. Right now she was pacing herself, conserving her energy; she had settled into slow, almost leisurely routine, alternating between short, sporadic bursts of activity and long periods of passive relaxation. When she was still she looked nearly dead, her body twisting involuntary this way and that; but she would always stir again and deliberately, almost reluctantly, as if compelled by someone, shift her legs and hips. And when she moved she looked as though she was lying in bed with her beloved who was kissing her most secret spots, and so, surprised by his unexpected passion, she was shying away from his hungry mouth, but then coming back to him and opening herself to receive more. Perhaps these sinuous, sensuous motions were nothing more than mere spasms of a dying body, but Desi didn’t think so; to her, the hanging girl appeared to be possessed. Not for the first time tonight, Desi remembered the Emperor’s offer and Kara’s refusal. Why did that stubborn girl prefer the slow, ignominious death by hanging to the love of the Emperor himself? Did she know something that Desi didn’t? Was there some sublime, indescribable ecstasy achievable only by those willing to strangle death? Now, Desi was curious and even, at the back of her mind, a tiny bit envious.

 

In the meantime, Kara was fading. Her movements had become even more sluggish; her rest intervals were getting longer; her face was turning inexorably from red, to purple, to blue. Desi recognized the signs of the approaching finish and automatically assumed her favorite endgame position: chest flat on the bed, butt lifted in the air, hands spreading the cheeks. The Master took the hint and started plumbing her from behind; but the man had to hold back– although Kara was visibly succumbing to the noose, it was still taking her a long time to expire. And then it happened: Kara’s consciousness went out like a flame. Her eyes instantly became dull and senseless like two glass beads; the body, no longer controlled by a mind, started to twitch and tremble. As if to taunt her audience, she made an indecent gesture and forced her tongue out of her mouth. Then she shuddered one last time, wet herself, and went limp.

 

A moment later, the Emperor pulled out and sprayed all over Desi’s buttocks. Desi touched the precious wetness on her backside; this time, the offering was not large but it was his third in a single night, and so Desi turned around and gratefully kissed his tired flesh.

 

"Did you like my gift?" The Emperor’s voice was hoarse.

 

"Oh, it was the best I ever had! And this girl was so good… I never knew anyone like her and I don’t think I ever will."

 

"Actually…" he started but fell silent.

 

They were quiet for a time.

 

"There is one final thing that I have to do," said Desi.

 

The Emperor gave her a sharp glance. "What is it?"

 

"I want… I want to thank her."

 

For a brief instant he seemed relieved…or was it Desi’s imagination?

 

"Of course," he nodded.

 

Desi got off the bed and walked to the gallows, careful not to step into the little puddle beneath the hanging body. She looked up. Kara hung so far above that even if Desi jumped she still could not reach the hanged girl’s feet.

 

"Sorry, Kid," Desi told her, "I know you wanted to fly high but I have to bring you down for this."

 

Desi pulled a lever on the wall. The gallows mechanism paid out some rope, lowering Kara’s corpse until her head was level with Desi’s. Now the girls looked as though they were the same height, except that Kara’s toes were still in the air, several inches above the ground. "That’s better," smiled Desi.

 

Suffocation caused Kara’s face to go puffy. Her features were now soft and round, making the girl looked younger, more vulnerable, and more beautiful in death than ever in life. Desi hugged the lifeless body; it was still warm, except Kara’s hair, which, soaked in cold sweat, was cool and damp on Desi’s skin. Tenderly, Desi kissed away tears from the dead eyes and wiped the wet cheeks. "No need to cry, Kid. It’s over." Then she kissed the hanged girl on the blue lips and sucked gently on her soft swollen tongue. Kara’s mouth tasted of semen and something else; it took Desi some time to identify the second flavor. It was blood: in her death throes, Kara must have bitten through her tongue. Sperm and blood, life and death… "How appropriate," thought Desi sentimentally, "A life that began with sperm and blood, ended with them." Aloud, she said, "I should be so lucky to die with cum in my mouth."

 

Desi continued to give her thanks. She touched Kara neck; her poor, stretched, bent, and constricted neck, the most mangled part of her body. The noose has bitten so deep into Kara’s throat that it was almost buried in the flesh. Desi ran her fingers along the narrow groove. After that, she ran the same length again, this time with her mouth. The piece of silk that killed Kara was smooth on Desi’s tongue. Desi kissed the whole extended length of the dead girl’s neck, from top to bottom, and then she went lower. Gradually sinking to her knees, she licked and kissed Kara’s narrow shoulders and delicate collarbones, her pretty girlish breasts, the adorable little bellybutton, until Desi’s lips found the triangle of soft down.

 

But first, Desi had to get comfortable. She pressed the lever again, making Kara’s body rise a couple of feet; she crouched underneath the corpse and looked up. The hanged girl was almost on top of her. Desi grabbed Kara by the ankles, parted her feet, and admired the view of the moist holes above. Then she slowly rose, keeping her head between Kara’s legs, letting them slide past both sides of her neck and down her back. When Desi stood up, Kara was sitting firmly on her shoulders, facing backwards, held nearly upright by the noose. The dead girl’s buttocks rested against Desi’s collarbones and her snatch was just below Desi’s mouth, which was what Desi had intended all along.

 

Kara’s pussy was a miniature rose, it’s dark-purple petals half-closed. With her thumb and forefinger, Desi opened this delicate flower and inhaled its musky fragrance. "I hope you’ll enjoy it, Kid," she said under her breath. "I liked it when you did it to me, so now I am returning the favor." Kara only stared ahead with unseeing eyes.

 

Desi kissed Kara’s pussy and licked her lips. The dead girl tasted sweet and salty, a bit spicy, and not at all repulsive. Desi kissed her again, deeper. She used her tongue to look for the little button hidden in the folds of the flesh, and when she found it, she gave it a long, wet caress. After she was done with the outer bits, Desi probed the dark and humid hole in the center. It yielded easily. Death was a funny thing: when Kara was alive, the entrance to her vagina was a hard narrow crack; Desi had to work very hard to insert even one finger into it, and there was still a smear of blood on Kara’s inner thigh that testified to that effort. But now the girl was dead, her muscles relaxed; and her once virginal cavern became as loose as a whore’s.

 

"Well, you are not a virgin anymore," Desi told her. And as she was saying that, her breath caught. A strange thing was happening to her; something was rising from the depths of her soul like bubbles rise to the surface from the bottom of a dark lake. A hidden corner of her being was suddenly revealed, and it felt to Desi as though she heard a voice. This new Voice was all in her head; it was perceptive, sharp, mocking; it knew more about Desi than she could ever guess about herself; and what it said was, "Yes, that girl is not a virgin. But you still are."

 

Desi started with surprise. "Huh? I am still a virgin? Where did this crazy nonsense come from?" But she didn’t have the time to ponder her questions because at that instant the Emperor appeared right behind her. Suddenly, his fingers were inside her body, and her knees went wobbly with new passion. She stumbled forward and to prevent the fall, held on to the hanged girl, letting the rope support them both. The things that the man was doing to her made her heart beat wildly and her mouth water; all she could see now was Kara’s passive, naked body, her welcoming pussy right before her eyes, so close… "Use me, do anything you want with me," the dead girl seemed to be saying, and, as though drawn by a magnet, Desi covered the dead lips with her mouth and pushed her tongue all the way into an unresisting depth.

 

 

* * *

 

Desi could not fall asleep. It was well past midnight now, and all the slaves and servants were long gone. Only two women remained with the Emperor, his loyal concubine, and the hanged girl, whose body, already cold and stiff, was made to face away from the bed because letting a corpse watch you sleep was bad luck.

 

The chamber was gloomy. The single candle that was still burning offered feeble illumination; dancing shadows were chasing each other inside the small circle of candlelight, and outside the circle it was pitch black. Kara’s body was right at the border: the only parts of her that were visible (dim yellow glow reflecting off the bare skin) were her shoulders and buttocks, and the rest of her body was hidden in deep shade.

 

The lovers were lying together in a tight embrace, sweaty, smelling of each other, exhausted but still awake. They were talking softly.

 

Desi gestured toward the gallows. "I wonder if she enjoyed her hanging."

 

The Emperor shrugged indifferently. "Who knows? Maybe she did, and maybe she didn’t. I don’t care, and neither does she – not anymore."

 

He gave Desi an odd, measuring look. "And by the way, you shouldn’t ask these kinds of questions. I had known a girl or two who were curious in just the same way. They kept asking again and again, 'What do the hanged ones really feel?' And you know what happened in the end? They found out for themselves."

 

The man and the woman were quiet for a time, thinking their own thoughts.

 

"Pity about the girl, though. I wish she weren’t so eager to hang," the Emperor said at length. "She definitely had potential. Some polish, some education, and in the right hands she could shine like a diamond."

 

"You mean the same kind of polish and education I got when I first came here?" Desi laughed sarcastically, "Then she is better off like she is. Speaking for myself, I would gladly put my neck in the noose, rather than to go through even a single session with the Hag"

 

"The who?"

 

"The Ayala woman. My so called 'love tutor.'"

 

"Ah, I didn’t know you call her that. Why, though? She was quite attractive, in a mature sort of way…"

 

Desi hesitated. Should she ask the question now? All right, why not.

 

"Incidentally," she said with feigned nonchalance, "I always wondered why you had her executed. What crime did she commit?"

 

Desi braced herself for a stern rebuke or even a smack in the face: the Emperor was not a one to explain his decisions, especially not to women.

 

But he only grinned. "No crime that I know of."

 

"So you hanged her just because she displeased you?"

 

"No, she didn’t displease me; on the contrary, she pleased me greatly. Well, I may as well tell you. I hanged her to make you happy."

 

"And why would you… Oh!" Desi’s eyes went wide.

 

The last piece of the puzzle finally fell into its place. Now she understood.

 

"You sneaky bastard!" Desi sputtered, "It was you, right from the start, wasn’t it? The Hag did not treat me like this on her own initiative, it was you, you all along, who made her do this to me!"

 

The Emperor yawned and stretched. "Yup. You got it," he said sleepily, "That’s right, Ayala was acting on my instructions. I even watched some of your lessons through a peephole – you were so cute when you were crying. Ayala was very competent and good at doing what she was told. She did an excellent job in educating you. But I didn’t tell her that there was one last thing she had to do in order to complete your education."

 

Desi mulled this over in her mind. She was surprisingly calm: no sense in getting all worked up about it. It was all done now; and, whatever else you could say about this scheme, it worked beautifully. But if this was to be the night of revelations, there was something she wanted to know even more.

 

"And what about Lu?" Desi asked the Emperor. "Why did you choose her, of all the girls, to hang on our first night? Did you know that we were–?"

 

But the man was already asleep. Desi sighed and covered him with a warm blanket. She curled up next to him, tried hard to fall asleep too, but could not. Memories of her friend came flooding back to her.

 

Oh Lu, how I miss you. Why, why did you have to die that night? Did he intend to shock me? To deprive me of a close friend? Or were you punished for loving me? No, the last one is not possible: for a dancer, hanging is not punishment. Or, perhaps it wasn’t one of his machinations at all. I remember you well, Lu, and you didn’t seem to be upset about your fate. You were laughing and joking minutes before your death. Could it have been your own idea, then, a giant practical joke like the ones you so loved? Would you really do this to me? Oh Lu…

 

Desi felt warm water running down her cheeks. Every time she thought about Lu she was choked by tears. Stop crying, she told herself. It was Lu’s destiny to hang, if not that night, then in a week, or a month. "She had her role to play, just as I have mine," Desi whispered. "Separate roles, same purpose. Separate roles, same purpose. Separate roles, same purpose …" She repeated this mantra, her deep conviction, over and over again. In the past, it helped her overcome grief and accept Lu’s fate, but this time something was wrong. There was something different in the air, something new, right at the margin of understanding, moving closer, almost within reach…

 

And then the Voice was back. It was stronger and clearer, now that she was alone with herself, and it was cutting through her peaceful existence like a knife that both hurts and heals, all at once. It was clever and rational, cynical and detached, and it was not really a voice but a part of her consciousness, sealed and unacknowledged until now, but at last released and given expression.

 

"Separate roles?" the Voice asked sardonically, "Don’t be so dense. Remember honey, you are just as much an Emperor’s slave as any dancer. Your life is in his hands. With a flick of his finger, he can hang you too."

 

Hang – me? He would never!

 

The Voice laughed, and its laugh was Desi’s own. "Think about it. You know he had other concubines before you, right? So, where are they now? Did you ever ask what happened to them?"

 

Desi was suddenly cold. She felt goose bumps crawling up her skin.

 

"Ah, you see already. Obvious, isn’t it? Discarded concubines are made to dance."

 

Does it mean I could be hanged?

 

"No darling, you still don’t understand. Not just 'could'. You will be hanged. Once he gets tired of you – and he will – up you go! Just like that."

 

Desi gasped in horror but the Voice continued, relentlessly, mercilessly. "By the way, do you realize how close you came today to being hanged? Remember how the Emperor offered Kara a position of concubine? If she’d accepted, he would’ve had no reason to keep you around. If that silly girl weren’t in such a hurry to kick the bucket, this dead corpse dangling on the gallows would’ve been you! Well, no matter. You’ll follow her soon enough. Could a week or a year, but your future is the noose around your neck."

 

With that, the Voice was gone.

 

The candle’s flame flickered and went out. Abruptly, Desi found herself surrounded by absolute darkness that wrapped around her like a shroud – as though she was lying in a crypt, buried deep underground. "I will be hanged," she said aloud. Hearing her own voice somehow made it feel more real. She had seen so many hangings that she could easily imagine her own. One day she will come to her Master’s bedroom and find her place at his side taken by someone else. "I don’t love you anymore, Desi," the Master will say. "Now do a little dance for me." Her hands are bound behind her back and she is made to step on a stool. Then she is noosed, the length of the rope carefully adjusted to eliminate even the smallest of drops. The slender noose feels cool on her throat: as an ex-concubine, she is given the painful honor of a silk cord. All eyes are on her as she stands on the scaffold wearing nothing but her new silk necklace and bracelets, the Master’s last and deadly gifts. Ready to hang, she looks into the eyes of the woman who would replace her and smiles, conceding defeat. "Your triumph is but momentary," Desi whispers to her, "Soon, you will follow in my footsteps." Without a warning the stool is yanked away. The solid surface under Desi’s feet suddenly disappears. There is a brief instant of vertigo; for one heartbeat, Desi is floating above the ground, but her own weight instantly pulls her down. The tightening noose begins its grim work, and, deprived of breath, Desi dances for her Master…

 

Coughing and wheezing, Desi came back to the real world. Her vision was gone but the fantasy was so vivid that her throat still itched from the imaginary rope. She inhaled noisily. Her mouth was dry; the air around her felt clammy, oppressive.  Desi’s heart was pounding rapidly in her ears; she was shivering – the superficial signs of fear. And, by all rights, she should’ve been frightened; so why wasn’t she?

 

"I will hang soon." Desi spoke slowly, tasting the words. "I will be stripped, strung up, and strangled." Saying it, thinking about it, made Desi’s face flush and her nipples harden. Even though she did not know it, she was dripping between her legs. A thought stuck her: let’s try how it feels. Any hesitation melted away by a flood of emotion, Desi wrapped her fingers around her throat and squeezed experimentally. She strengthened her grip little by little.

 

It felt fantastic.

 

 

 

(written, March-May 2004; translated and expanded, August-November 2006.)