Noose-Bulletin reporter Marybeth Henry interviews Clint Mondy, US “Sexecutioner of the Year” four years out of the last twenty, and three times worldwide SotY.

MH note: Mondy is in his early 40s, just over 6 foot 2, trim, very self-assured. He has a little bit of Amerindian ancestry, just enough for the distinctive cheekbones.

Transcript:

MH: Tell us a little about yourself.

CM: I am a professional sexecutioner. I have a Master’s degree in snuffology, magna cum laude, from Dolcett University, and my Sexecutioner’s certificate, with honors, from Gallowglass Vocational Academy. And I should add that I really enjoy my job.

MH: What made you decide to become a Sexecutioner?

CM: Well, the most obvious part is, you don’t go to Dolcett U unless you’re into snuff, and especially asphyxia. I knew that asphyxia snuff was my “thing” even before I started high school. My Senior year I applied to five different snuff colleges. When I got my acceptance letter from Dolcett U, I sent in my registration form and first year’s tuition by return mail.

MH: I hear that DU is really tough.

CM: Yeah. Less than half of the freshman class graduates. Slightly over a quarter of the students drop out and go to easier snuffversities, or to a conventional college. And another quarter get snuffed for various reasons -- flunking out being the most common. But I was always in the top tenth in my major, top quartile overall, so my chances were a lot better than most. Of course, there was still the possibility of getting chosen for a lethal demo in class, but well, I guess I was lucky.

MH: Can you give us a quick description of your job?

CM: It’s a good job, it pays well and there are lots of perks. I get a lot of different clients: male, female, cis, trans, intersex, queer, whatever. Different requests for sex and method. And different reasons for hiring me.

MH: What kinds of reasons?

CM: Sexecutioners classify clients into four types: Mandatory, Medical, Slaves, and Volunteers.

MH: Mandatory, that would be people who have been sentenced to hang for non-violent crimes, right?

CM: Yes. “Hanged by the neck until dead.”

MH: And Medical?

CM: People with incurable diseases. I think 90% of your readers know somebody with cancer or some other horrible disease who took an overdose of pills. Which works most of the time. But sometimes they end up in a nursing home, where people making not much more than minimum wage tend to their bodies until something breaks inside.

And sleeping pills aren’t exactly sexy. Come to me or any other sexecutioner and you can have whatever you want. It’s usually affordable -- not real cheap, but almost anybody in the middle class can pay my fee. And I have discount plans for those who are in a bad situation and short of money.

MH: I guess. What about “slaves”? How do you handle those

CM: That’s submissives who are in a 24/7 D/S relationship. Their dominant decides to end the relationship, but the sub doesn’t want to be “freed” and the Dom doesn’t care to do the deed himself. They come to me to “take care” of the sub. Most of my slave sexecutions are in their 20s or 30s; older people don’t get slave contracts.

MH: You said volunteers. People actually volunteer to be hanged or strangled to death or whatever?

CM: Yes. two subtypes, actually. One is the “goodbye, cruel world” type. They just can’t or don’t want to cope with living any more. One final orgasm and goodbye. I don’t get many of those, thankfully. Most of my volunteers are really into sexual asphyxia and decide that they’ve done all the living they really want to. They want a glorious final exit. These are likely to be creative, and prefer the late evening, around bedtime. Tuesday night seems to be the most popular for these, don’t ask me why. All ages, from 18 to mid-70s.

MH: How do you choose the method?

CM: Whatever the client wants, subject to my two inflexible rules.

MH: What are those?

CM: First: I only do methods that involve asphyxiation. Want to be shot? Stabbed? Beheaded? Make an appointment with somebody else.

Second: If the client is a male, I will accept a handjob or a blowjob, but I only give handjobs. With females it’s almost anything goes, except that I’m never the bottom.

As far as the method, it’s whatever the client wants (except the mandatories), subject to Rule 1. And the same thing goes for the sex: client’s choice, subject to Rule 2.

MH: I imagine you have some specialized tools for your trade...

CM: Not “some.” “A lot.” Some are obvious, like nooses. Some are less so.

MH: For example?

CM: Gallows, nooses. ropes, scarves, strangling cords

MH: More than one gallows?

CM: Two in my workroom -- a tall one for longdrops and an autohang for slower hangings. And a portable one I can set up in somebody’s backyard or wherever.

MH: Go on...

CM: Things to stand or sit on ... A thing like a birdbath, but deeper. Plastic bags. An inflatable pool -- I can do a drowning just about anywhere. Weight plates from one pound to forty-five pounds.

MH: I see what you mean. A lot of tools and bondage equipment.

CM: Yes.

MH: Can you describe a typical week?

CM: A typical week in my business? That’s a contradiction in terms. But ... one week last month I had one of each type. It started on Monday with a medical customer, in her mid-20s, I’ll call her Iona ... She had stage 4 breast cancer. It’s not common in women that young, but it does occur. Her choices were not very appetizing. Radiation would leave burns in a place no woman wants burned and a 4% chance of 5 years survival ... Chemotherapy, with all the misery involved in that, would give her a 10% chance. Or she could combine the two. That would mean even more misery and give her a 15% chance, maybe. Or she could do nothing, and die in about 3 months, with a lot of pain, vomiting, and other unpleasant symptoms.

Iona chose none of the above. She had a fantasy of getting cock-choked while giving me a blowjob, ending with her dying -- or at least losing consciousness forever as I came down her throat. She called me in the morning and I explained the facts of life to her: cock-choking is incompatible with the in-and-out motions needed for a successful blowjob. She paused, then agreed: “Well, whatever is closest. I leave the details up to you.”

We made a “date” for that evening. When she arrived I showed her the setup.

She nodded, touched the handcuffs -- real police issue -- but asked about the weird-looking ring. I explained: “It’s cuir-bouilli, leather boiled in wax. It protects my cock in case your jaw muscles go into spasm as you lose consciousness.”

“Ooh! Yeah, I don’t want to hurt you. Just me...”

“Okay, then.” We both took our clothes off. She was a real looker: a small nose, nice red lips, good-size tits that didn’t sag at all, flat belly. It added up to a very attractive package.

I went into the bathroom, opened a drawer in the vanity, and injected a drug into my cock that would let me stay hard even after cumming.

MH: Really? Wow!

CM: Heh! I’m glad they sent a woman to interview me. A man would be cringing about now. Tell your readers not to worry: it hurt about as much as pinching the web between your thumb and forefinger, and only for about two seconds.

We spent a good 15 minutes “making out” -- kissing each other here and there and the other place too. I licked her shaven pussy until she begged me to stop. She knelt down on the cushion I’d provided, and I tied her ankles to her hips. I clipped an oxygen and pulse sensor to her left index finger and told her, “Go ahead.”

She wrapped her right hand around the base of my cock and pulled me into her hot, wet mouth, then started sliding her lips and tongue up and down. The sensation was wonderful. As I got close to orgasm, she slowed down but added little flicks of her tongue along the underside.

“Getting close,” I told her.

She sped up, with lots of tongue-work. “I’m going...” I said, then screamed and erupted in her mouth. At last I couldn’t stand any more and pulled away while she swallowed.

Then I picked up the ring and slid it onto my cock.

“Open.”

She did. I grabbed her head and slid into her mouth. I pushed all the way in, and adjusted the ring so it was between her teeth. I stayed that way, my cock blocking her airway, while she tried unsuccessfully to breathe.

A minute went by. A minute and a half. She started struggling to pull away, jerking her neck muscles back and forth, to the left, the right, trying to get free, but I kept a tight grip on her head.

After about four minutes her mouth spasmed closed, but the ring protected my cock from her teeth. She stopped struggling somewhere around six minutes. I watched the sensor while I held her head.

A few minutes later the sensor’s alarm went off. I glanced at the readout: Oxygen saturation at 60% and irregular heart rhythm. Two minutes later there was no pulse at all. I pulled out.

There was a small puff as the trapped air in her lungs came out, but that was it.

I spread some lube on my cock, rubbed myself frantically for about five minutes, and came in her mouth one last time. I wiped her face clean, then picked up my cell and called the phone number she had given me. “Ready for pickup,” I told them, and gave my name and address. Two men showed up twenty minutes later and took her body away.

MH: Wow! You really do live an interesting life.

CM: Yes. I love my job!

MH: And the next client?

CM: That was Tuesday evening, a volunteer. Remember what I said about Tuesday nights?

MH: Yes. And it’s in my notes.

CM: She called in the morning and made an appointment for that evening. Her husband had introduced her to the joys of sexual asphyxia. Here’s how she described it: “We were having sex, missionary, and he put his hands around my neck. It turned me on, and I moaned a little. He squeezed just a little, And then harder, so I could hardly breathe. I wriggled under him and I came so hard! If I’d had enough air, you would have heard my scream two blocks away. After that I always wanted to be strangled during sex. I always came so hard! After a couple of years even that wasn’t enough. I asked him to waterboard me, but he didn’t want to. He just wanted to play with asphyxia. The idea of fucking a corpse turned him off. I did some web research and talked to him, and we agreed to call you.”

She phoned me and made an appointment. She wanted several of her closest friends to watch, so I set out some armchairs in a semi-circle near the bondage-bed.

When she arrived, I seated the guests, then got down to business. I started with the usual foreplay: kissing, necking, groping her titties, undressing her and me, tweaking and kissing her nips, caressing her here and there and, well, just about everywhere. I put a jug of water on the bedside table, tied her spread-eagle to the bed, and put a pulse sensor on her finger. Then I laid a scarf over her mouth and nose.

I checked with a finger. She was dripping wet. I slid into her and poured a little water onto the scarf, then started fucking her, slowly and not all the way in. She struggled for air, and eventually got some as the scarf dried out, but I poured more water. We continued this game for several minutes, then I started fucking her in earnest. I poured the water more frequently, leaving her less time to breathe. After a few more minutes, I just kept dripping water on the scarf.

She tried to pull free of the ropes, get out from under me, anything to get air. She writhed and struggled, and her cunt clamped down on me like a vise. It took all the strength in my hips to pull partway out and then ram into her again.

I eventually came inside her. All her muscles were tight but she wasn’t moving. I checked her carotid pulse -- her heart was still beating but she was out. I poured more water, to the point where it dripped into her mouth and nose. She was breathing water, but there was no cough reflex. I pulled out slowly, still dripping water on the scarf. I checked her pulse again after a minute. Gone.

I looked at the guests. Of the two men, one had a wet spot on his crotch. The other was still making out with the woman next to him, rubbing each other frantically. He came within a few seconds, and she yipped in orgasm about a minute later.

I kept the scarf wet until the sensor showed a flatline, then I filled out the paperwork and called the mortuary.

MH: Wow!

CM: Yeah. It was Wow! for me, too. And for her. I could tell by the way her cunt rippled, but also her face. When I took the scarf off there was this totally satiated look.

MH: What next

CM: A mandatory: A woman who was arrested after she rear-ended another car, then blew .24 on the breathalyzer. This was her third conviction, and an “at fault” accident with injuries made it an automatic death sentence. She made an appointment for Wednesday afternoon. Like many of my clients, she wanted a last orgasm, but left the details up to me.

I had two stools set up under a dangling noose. I clipped the pulse-oximeter to her left index finger. Then I kissed her lips for a good five minutes, then gave some attention to her cheeks, eyelids, earlobes, and the sides of her neck. When she was breathing hard, I started undressing her, one item at a time. As I removed each item, I kissed the skin that was revealed: the insides of her elbows when the sweater came off, her cleavage, then her nipples. Then her feet, her knees.

I tied her hands when she was naked, then helped her up onto one of the stools. I got onto the other one, then slipped a noose over her head and around her neck. I got down, took the second stool away, then pulled the rope taut and tied it to a cleat on the wall.