Ten minutes pass, and now they have trouble just breathing.
Clearly, they begin to understand that they will die any moment. I don't turn away for a second. To witness the very instant when a slave realizes there will be no mercy from their executioness is irresistibly delicious to for me to behold!
Almost subconsciously, my hands begin stroking my inner thighs -sending invisible shivers over my whole body. The pleasure I feel is so powerful, as my victims -now gasping desperately for air- can barely even move.
Slowly rising from atop my opulent perch, I choose to take leisurely stroll along the perimeter of my deadly glass chamber and enjoy a closer view of my poor, suffering victims. I pause to strike a teasingly seductive pose, and motion them to come near. Miserably -with great effort- they crawl toward me, but trapped behind the impenetrable translucent wall.

Their heads are just few scant inches from my boots, yet we are worlds apart: I am their all-powerful Lady Executioness, able to release them from this gas chamber whenever I want, and on the opposite side are my helpless victims, whose only sight is of my fabulous leather fashion boots. Their sole destiny is but few mere moments to live before dying under my sardonically bemused gaze. My captive slaves now truly begin to realize what I have known all along: that their very lives are utterly insignificant.

With amusingly ardent (yet quite futile) desperation, they begin to lick the cold, unyielding glass nearest my boots. They know I can save them -so now they show this submission all of the sudden? Ah, but this serves only to excite me more! Toying with them, I press my right boot to the glass -so close, yet so far from their tongues! It is as if they wish to lick right through the impenetrable glass!

My boots now virtually licked satisfactorily by these two dying beings, I stand back a few inches so as to allow them to gaze upon the unattainable beauty of my boots in proper, worshipful reverence one last time. Such a pity, for it is all too little, too late: I do not forget -nor do I forgive- how these two slaves dared not worship my boots a few mere minutes prior, and now they pay dearly for such a foolish transgression!
I return to the chair and slow down the gas flow, so as to extend their exquisite agony. I sit back and relax again with sheer delight as I gaze at their (now prolonged) last moments. Oh! The lovely spectacle of poisoned, dying slaves: burning lungs, pumping frantically in vain for sweet, precious oxygen -lying on their backs with mouths pathetically agape. So heartlessly cruel and so, so exciting! The overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation that is this spectacular display of my power causes a light perspiration within my boots: I feel it as I wriggle my silken toes within the glossy leather. What a deliciously sublime smell will emit from them! My footslave will spend the remainder of the evening inhaling my divine odor -as must be properly done after such any such amusing execution.
And now, the lives of both slaves at last flicker and fade slowly beneath my gaze. Pity -they dreamt of living happily together ever after, but instead they die together as the evening's entertainment for a pampered and privileged, superior Lady. What a wonderful destiny I enjoy: to be a Lady Executioness!
As their heavily labored pantings slow to a halt, heads bend down passively, eyes close... The end has finally come. The spark of life has finally left these two young lovers -born for each other, and ultimately to die together: to die merely for my pleasure. 

I activate another lever and, within seconds, fresh oxygen replaces the lethal gas inside the chamber. Savoring the moment, I slowly enter the chamber and separate their intertwined fingers with the pointed toe of my boot. Next, just for fun, I test them with my stiletto heels: twisting and grinding them into their tender, young (now lifeless) flesh. Finally, I exit my arena of torture and pain -with a restlessly quivering, heavily moistened crotch.

Back inside my elegant, luxurious living-room, I recline upon the divan and I command my footslave to remove my boots and press his face to the openings. He can smell their divine smell. He loves it, as do I!

( clic on Dominique or sclave for closer plans )

I phone Meredith, but hear only her answering machine. My message: 

"Good evening, Meredith - Dominique speaking. I've just put down both of your young slaves. The executions went off very nicely. See you!"

Fin