Here’s a little vignette inspired by the photographic artwork of Bor1960:
https://www.deviantart.com/bor1960
There were probably two dozen soldiers in the group that approached the farmhouse. Before their captain could even arrive at the front porch, his men began pulling long wooden poles and stakes from the armored truck that had growled slowly along with them up the road. With a good-humored spring, the captain skipped the step up to the porch and leaned forward to rap on the door, then swung back to his rear foot, kicking the porch wood and clicking his boots against each other while he waited.
A middle-aged woman arrived at the door, bewildered, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Frau Zimmer?”
“Yes? Is it Georg?”
“Is your daughter at home?” Just then, a much younger woman appeared behind her, not more than 19 years old. “Ah, wonderful,” the captain continued. “Please, step outside.” The mother and daughter emerged hesitantly from the house.
“Is it Georg?” The mother asked again.
“It is. I’m sorry to say that he deserted his company last week.” The captain’s tone was almost bored.
“Deserted?”
“Yes. But he was caught two days ago and executed.” Both women let out a cry of grief and began hugging one another. “Of course you have also been sentenced to death.” Here, both looked up suddenly, shocked.
“Us? But why...?”
“Kindly step this way and take off your clothes please.” And he began leading the daughter off the porch by the hand, so that the mother could not help but follow. The soldiers had already finished erecting their portable wooden frame, and were setting small chopped logs on end under two of the three nooses dangling from it.
“But Sir!” the mother protested, “we have always been loyal to the Fatherland! Our whole family! There must be a mistake!”
“The sentence is final, Frau Zimmer. Now please undress. We wouldn’t want to have to do anything unpleasant.”
Still in a state of shock, the mother began to fumble with the buttons of her blouse. Her daughter began weeping uncontrollably.
“Do as they say, Lisel.” Amid her tears, the daughter also obeyed. And so, surrounded by two dozen waiting soldiers, under the shadow of the nooses, mother and daughter bared their breasts, tossing blouses and brassieres on the ground.
“Lisel,” The mother whispered as they pulled down their skirts, “Offer them...” she finished pulling the her skirt down and stood up naked, then rubbed her vulva for a moment, wide eyes signaling to her daughter. The daughter looked paralyzed in the crossfire of an impossibility, frozen with her thumbs inside her waistline, her skirt halfway down her hips, bent over just a little, ready to strip completely.
The captain rolled his eyes. “Don’t bother, Frauline. Do you know how many cunts have been offered to me today?” The daughter stayed frozen, breasts hanging outward a little as she stooped, eyes wide, confused, hopeless. “Please,” said the captain, with an elegant gesture of chivalry, “continue.” She pushed the thick skirt to her ankles and stood, an arm over her nipples, a hand over her sex. Slowly she stepped out of the skirt and nudged it away with her toes. The captain gave a perfunctory polite smile and turned away to pace while two of his men bound the condemned women’s hands behind their backs, then pushed them toward the short chopped logs balanced under the gallows. Understanding what was expected of them, and without the will to put up a futile resistance, mother and daughter each raised a leg to place a foot in top of the log intended for her, then, after a little bouncing, balancing, and help from the soldiers, managed to bring the other foot up. There was hardly room for two feet on the round surface of the chopped log, and their arms were bound, so they stood there very precariously. Twice the mother began to fall and had to be caught by the soldier assigned to her.
Two more soldiers fitted the nooses around their necks and pulled the knots until they were snug. Their was very little slack in the ropes; they would not have far to fall.
“Sir!” the mother suddenly burst, “I have a pan on the stove, Sir. It will burn soon.”
“My men will see to the pan, Frau Zimmer.”
“It’s vegetables, Sir.” Her hands were squirming in her bonds, she was breathing hard, and her face was twitching constantly with nerves. “You are welcome to them, Sir, but they don’t have any spices on them yet. I’m a good cook, Sir, and I can finish them for you...”
“Frau Zimmer,” The Captain was directly in front of her now, and he rested one boot on her log, pinching her bare toes. “My men will see to your vegetables.” And before she could say anything else, he had shoved the log away, and she dropped with a sickening, audible tug on the thin rope. Her kicking toes extended lower than his knee as she dangled, just a little above the ground.
“And you, Frauline,” he immediately moved on to the daughter, who by now was not only weeping, but shaking violently, arms pinned back now, unable to hide her shame. “Please don’t take offense. You are truly a beautiful girl. But I’m a married man.” And he kicked her log away as well.