Part 2
At last, finding her voice, Mercy begins to scream: “No! No-oh! … I want to go home! Please! Please don’t hurt me! Just let me go home! I’ll be good. I’ll be a good girl … I promise! … I’ll stay out of trouble! ... Pleeease! … Just let me go back to my apartment.”
And she breaks down and sobs convulsively: “Pleee-he-heez!”
The buxom Ward Sister struts towards her, glowers at her for an instant and then slaps her very hard on each cheek. Stunned into silence, Mercy stares at her, panting and shivering like a whipped dog. Then she starts sobbing again, tears burning her flushing cheeks.
“Emma”, says the Sister nonchalantly, “Be an angel and fetch me a ball gag.”
Emma - a pretty young African-Caribbean nurse with braided hair and mischievous eyes - goes to a cupboard and takes out a red rubber ball with black straps attached to it. She hands it to the Sister, and then takes hold of Mercy’s nose and chin, and forces her mouth open. The Sister, whose hands smell strongly of disinfectant, pushes the ball in between Mercy’s perfect white teeth, and secures the straps tightly at the back of her head.
“Thank you Emma, and could you call Psychiatrics and ask them to send over a counselor? Ask for Cassandra, if she’s free. Explain to them that one of our condemned ladies is having a bit of a wobbly.”
“No problem, Sister. Then I’ll be right back to do Miss Skreemings’ enema.”
“Excellent. You’ll feel so much better after your enema, Miss Skreemings. It’ll help you keep control of your bodily functions when you’re nailed up. And of course - as a convicted Slut - you’re going to be experiencing quite a lot of anal intercourse before you get to that point, especially during your first duty: the Gangbang Lottery. There are many, many priapic men out there who are desperately hoping you’ll be picking their numbers from the bucket. Those videos submitted at your trial - showing you indulging in triple-penetration intercourse with foreign spies and enemies of England - will no doubt have whetted their appetites.”
Mercy curls up on the bed, whimpering into the gag. Her hospital-issue pale green nightie is gaping at the neckline, allowing the Sister a clear view of her beautiful plump breasts as they quiver with each convulsive sob.
“There, there”, says the Sister, gently stroking Mercy’s hair. “You see, sweetheart, we have to be cruel to be kind. We don’t like hysterics and histrionics on the Ward. It upsets the other patients. And it doesn’t do you any good either. You need to save your energy. And you most certainly need to save your voice, for later. Once you’re out there”, she points towards the window, “you’ll be able to screech and squeal and wail to your heart’s content. It’s what the crowds will want to hear. Even now, they’re queuing up to pay good money to come and listen to you. And the TV companies will have the most sophisticated microphones in place to broadcast your screams and hysterics all over the world. Think of that! So we can’t have you losing your voice before the Crux Team gets started on you, can we?”
Mercy can feel cold saliva drooling from the corner of her gagged mouth as she looks up into the Sister’s self-satisfied, beaming face. Her own face - with the exception of the angry red finger marks on her cheeks - is as white as the pillow on which her head is resting. The Sister brushes some strands of reddish-gold hair away from her eyes.
“Goodness. You’re such a pretty little creature. A real pinup, that’s what you are. We must get the girls to help you with your makeup before we send you out. So you can look your best for the crowds and the cameras. Eh?”
She winks at Mercy and struts over to greet a middle-aged man with a clipboard, who has just entered the room accompanied by a young woman. Both are dressed in black uniforms.
“Good morning Albert, and Helen. Are you doing the hangings this morning? You’ll be wanting these two ladies here. All present and correct. These are their weights.” She hands him a piece of paper. “And their STD tests are all negative.”
“Good, good”, says the man, scribbling on his clipboard. “In that case, the punters can go bareback.”
Mercy can see that the two condemned women in the far corner of the ward are wearing nothing but lingerie: stockings, garters, lacy panties, garter belts and bras. And they are busy endeavoring - with their elbows tied together behind their backs, just above their bottoms - to slip into pointy stiletto pumps.
“If you could just sign here, Sister.” He hands her the clipboard and a pen. “Up you get ladies. Now then, before we go, do any of you need to visit the restroom?”
Both women look up and nod earnestly. “Yes please”, they say, rather timidly.
“Of course you do”, says the Sister. “We don’t want any accidents, do we? We don’t want to embarrass ourselves in front of the onlookers. But don’t be too long. Mustn’t keep the hangman waiting.”
“Helen, would you mind escorting them?” says the man.
His colleague, a fit-looking brunette in a smart black mini skirt and black tights, steps forward with an engaging smile and leads the two women towards the ladies’ room.
“Busy morning, Albert?” says the Sister.
“Yeah”, says the man. “We’ve finished the gentlemen, all twelve of them. We did ‘em in batches of four. And we’re just getting started on the ladies.”
“How many ladies are there?”
“Fifteen altogether, spread out over the wards. It’s a lot of work, collecting ‘em all. I don’t mind doing the actual ‘angings, but it’s the paperwork that gets me … It’s so boring, and there’s no end to it.”
“Tell me all about it!”, says the Sister, with a twinkle in her eye. “Health and safety regulations, political correctness, gender equality, human rights legislation, audits which account for every penny. I know all about it Albert …” They both laugh. “I heard you were working with wires now, instead of ropes.”
“That’s right. The onlookers like it better that way. ‘Cos they feel like their getting their money’s worth. You know, they ... like, jerk and kick for a good time longer. And with a zero drop obviously. Just those little three-legged stools to stand on. Otherwise we’d be slicing ‘eads off!”
“Yes”, says the Sister, pulling a face, “I wouldn’t fancy the paperwork on that! But the wires sound very exciting. If I wasn’t on duty I’d come and watch.”
“Yeah, it’s been quite a good show so far. And we’ve raised about twelve thousand pounds for the ‘ospital, when you include all the bets. You know, like, which ones are gonna last longest, and all that.”
“Jolly good! We might get a pay rise after all! D’you know, I rather fancy a flutter on one of those ladies over there,” she points towards Mercy and her two fellow-condemned. “They’re being nailed up around lunchtime. I shall have to ask Dr. Painjoy for a tip. It’s so hard to predict with females, which ones will hold out longest. Quite often they surprise you, and even outlive the males.”
“Yeah, well I wouldn’t know too much about crucifixions. But that Dr. Painjoy’s a right proper joker. Came over to our ‘angings first thing ‘e did, and played some cheeky tricks. Like, ‘e gave all the gentleman a shot in the butt of that new drug. Erexecute? And when they stepped up onto their stools they all ‘ad, like, massive … you know ... boners.” He blushes slightly. “If you’ll pardon my language, Sister ...”
The Sister gives a hearty laugh. “This is the Lady’s Ward, Albert, we are perfectly at ease here talking about men's genitalia. Isn’t that so, ladies?” She casts a mischievous glance at Mercy and her two neighbors, all of whom are listening intently to the conversation.
Mercy, gives a yelp into her gag, as she feels a tube being inserted into her anus.
“Just giving you an enema”, says Emma. “Is that alright, Miss Skreemings? Just a bit of warm water and soap going up your bum. It might sting a bit at first. But most people find it quite pleasurable.”
And it does feel very pleasant. Mercy begins to feel a wave of dark sexual yearning moving through her belly.
She has been listening to the Sister’s conversation with the hangman with horror and loathing, but also wondering whether she herself might perhaps have been laughing with them, and expressing similar sentiments, had she not been caught on the wrong side of the new government’s agenda. Is this what most people are like under the skin? she thinks. Indifferent to suffering so long as they themselves, and their loved ones, are okay? No doubt, many people - perhaps most - harbor phantasies of revenge, torture, rape and murder, which once given the go-ahead by the powers that be, can be acted out with a clear conscience. Why should it surprise her?
“Anyway, as I was saying”, says Albert, “the men, they looked so embarrassed, you know, just standing there on their stools with their, like … penises, standing to attention like flagpoles. But the ladies in the audience, they all go, like, totally wild and … you know, all excited and that. Taking their knickers off and throwing them at ‘em. Three of ‘em picked out men that were standing in the queue, took ‘em to the rape tables, and rode ‘em like donkeys.”
“Heavens above!” says the Sister, cupping her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with glee. “That must have been quite a sight!”
“It was, I tell you. And then Dr. Painjoy asks four of the condemned ladies to come up, and … like, fellate the men on the stools … sucking them off and that … while they’re standing there with the nooses around their necks. And just as soon as each one, you know … blows his load, so to speak, Helen pulls their stools away, and there they are, kicking away at the air and, squirting their … thick white spunk all over the place …. bucket loads of the stuff. The Doctor gets the condemned ladies to clean it up afterwards, of course.”
“Goodness me! Dr. Painjoy is such a prankster!”
“Yeah, ‘e’s always got some trick up his sleeve. Brings a bit of light relief; that’s what I say. And there’s no ‘arm in that, I s’ppose.”
“None at all. Our hospital executions would be rather grim affairs without an injection of Dr. Painjoy’s boyish humor … Ah, here come the ladies … All set to go? Cheer up! At least you’re not being crucified. It’ll be all over in no time at all. No whips, no canes. Just some fun and games - that’s all - before they get you up on the stools.”
One of the condemned women has a pair of very voluptuous breasts, supported by a capacious and expensive-looking, dark red, designer bra. Mercy notices the Sister eying it up.
“That’s a lovely brassiere”, she says, “what size are you, darling?”
“Thirty four E”, says the woman, guardedly.
“Oooh, I thought so! My size exactly.”
“Would you like to ‘ave it, Sister?” says Albert. “Might as well take it now. She’ll ‘ave to take it off before she goes up on the stool. The onlookers will insist. And I’m pretty sure they’ll be wanting to - you know - ‘ave a good grope while she’s standing in the queue. Maybe a little bit more than a grope, if they’re willing to pay.”
“Well, in that case”, says the Sister, licking her lips. “I think I’ll treat myself. I'll take it, Albert. Provided it doesn't mean any extra paperwork for you.”
“None at all, Sister. Perks of the job. Helen, would you mind taking off the lady’s bra for the Sister? And mum's the word.”
“My husband will be so thrilled,” says the Sister, as she watches Helen unhook the bra and let it slide over the woman’s huge natural breasts. “Thank you, Albert. Thank you, Helen.”
“Our pleasure. Maybe we’ll catch you later on, at the crucifixions”, says Albert.
“Yes indeed, I shall be on the Crux Team, assisting Dr. Painjoy. Goodbye Helen. Goodbye Albert. And goodbye ladies. Goodbye, sweet ladies.”
Mercy watches them escort the two women out the door. The women walk rather shakily on their high heels, as they find their balance with their elbows bound tightly together, their shoulders pulled back, and their gently swaying breasts pushed forward.
“Well, that’s done then”, says the Sister, raising her new bra to her nostrils. She gives it a sniff, and a smile spreads over her face.
“And that’s Miss Skreemings’ enema all done too”, says Emma.
“Excellent work, Emma. Everything's on schedule so far. Now she needs to go over to x-ray. Wrists and ankles for the Doctor.”
They both turn to look at the door as a deep rumbling noise signals the entrance of a heavy trolley, pushed by a young man in a brown overall. The trolley is laden with a stack of rough-looking timber.
“Ah, here come the cross beams”, says the Sister. “No peace for the wicked, Emma!”
