tygavin
Magistrate
I wrote this out tonight and thought I would post it if anyone else shares my fascination with public executions.
She had expected this. She had anticipated this. She had committed the crime of treason hoping for this.
The verdict didn’t surprise her. Then sentence had been what she wanted yet it still shocked her to hear it.
Execution by firing squad. She would be given a medical exam. She would be taken to the public execution grounds, stripped of her uniform and underwear and strapped to a post. Then she would be shot six times, none of them immediately fatal. She would bleed to death, strapped to the pole with everyone who took the time to come to the grounds, watching.
Despite the shock of hearing it, her pussy acted as she expected and she became wet, as she did every time she dreamed of this. How may executions had she attended, how many men and women, undressed in front of their uniform or clothes, inescapably bound and waiting for the order.
Cuffs were placed on her slim wrists by a guard, and another grabbed her arm. She was taken to the back of the courthouse and placed in an SUV.
The ride to the public execution grounds was surreal. Everything she looked at outside the car window, she realized she would never see again. She would never go shopping again. Her strawberry crepe this morning was her last meal. She would never fuck another man. She had unprotected sex with a man she picked up from a bar two nights ago, not worried about disease or pregnancy. She knew this was coming.
One she arrived; she was taken to the waiting room where four other women waited. None were in uniform meaning they had just come from civilian courts. They were all attractive. There was only one pole meaning each would be shot separately. The last one would have to watch the first four being shot and moaning as they died slowly.
The women were called one by one into the room and did not return. She waited thirty minutes before she was called. When she entered, she found a male middle-aged doctor and his older nurse, with only a padded examination chair. There was a door at the far side of the room that must have led out to the range.
“Stand on the scale in the corner.” He said, disinterest in his voice. Then he turned to look at her and she saw interest in his eyes. Before she had joined the military, she had spent some time as a runway model but found she didn’t enjoy the industry.
“Five foot ten, one hundred ten pounds.” The nurse called out.
“Were you a fashion model, Diana?” the doctor asked.
“I was once.” She answered vaguely. What did it matter now?
“Have a seat.”
She sat in the examination chair and didn’t move as he unbuttoned the top two buttons of her crisp uniform shirt. He placed his stethoscope to her chest and listened.
Diana laughed at the absurdity of having her heart checked before her execution.
“I know what you are thinking but it is regulation.” The doctor said, the humor in his voice evident. “You are very calm considering what is about to happen.”
“I expected it and came to grips with it.” She left out that she fantasized about it and had sought it.
The doctor cleared her and opened the far door. A guard motioned for her to take the lead and he walked beside her.
When she opened the door onto the arena, she closed her eyes for a moment. The noonday sun was bright, and the heat was nearly oppressive.
The guard took hold of her arm and escorted her to a bench. One naked woman was already strapped to the pole. The other three sat nervously.
Diana looked behind her and saw the stadium seating was nearly full, perhaps two hundred people to for a Friday execution.
She forced herself to relax but couldn’t help squeezing her thighs together. The squad was called to order and the woman at the pole peed on the ground.
Diana came when the shots went off. The woman had been shot six times, four in her abdomen, one just above her vagina and another in her right breast.
Thanks to the straps the woman didn’t fall, didn’t even move. Diana watched her suffer, listened to her moan and fought the urge to touch herself. The woman took five minutes to die. She was then shot in the head to ensure death and she was unceremoniously dragged by her arms over the dirt to a truck waiting to collect the bodies for burning.
Diana sat through the next three and her arousal never diminished.
Her heart skipped a beat when she was called.
She stood up and collected herself, walking shakily towards the stake. It was bloody from its previous occupants, but she didn’t mind.
“Undress.” Her escort ordered her.
She slipped her military jacket off, glad to be rid of it in the heat. Due to being military issued, the guard collected her uniform rather than allowing it to hit the dusty ground. She began unbuttoning her shirt slowly with shaky hands. Every button, every article of clothing brought her closer to death and the fulfillment of an erotic dream that would soon be a bloody reality.
Once her shirt was gone, she unzipped the back of her skirt and allowed it to drop.
She stood in her black lace bra, black g string and black high heel shoes. She undid her hair from its buns and let it fall free in dark waves across her back.
Having the audience’s attention, she bent over and took her shoes off, then unbuttoned her bra. She handed it to the guard then slipped out of her panties, handing those to the guard as well with a smile.
“Take them home.” She told him.
The man handed her clothes to a female assistant and pressed Diana against the pole. She gasped when she felt the hot metal on her back. He bent down and placed a strap around her ankles. He then placed another one across her knees.
He was face level with her crotch and could no doubt smell her arousal. He looked up at her with a smirk and she winked at him.
He strapped another over her thighs, just below her crotch. He then took a strap and placed it under her arm pits and locked it the pole so she would not fall.
Her head was pushed back, and a strap was placed across her forehead.
Her hands were pulled behind the pole and handcuffs sealed her fate. She was not coming free of this pole alive.
She began gasping, her breathing picking up, her breasts heaving in anticipation. She used what little freedom she had to rub her thighs together.
She opened her eyes and took in the firing squad. Each of the were standing with rifles raised, smiles on their faces and bulges in their pants, unseen to the public behind them.
They were just as affected as she was.
“Ready!”
She took a deep breath and steadied herself.
“Aim!”
She saw one of the men dip his barrel and knew he was aiming for her pussy.
“Fire!”
Diana came hard at the word, and still felt the pleasure even as the pain of metal ripping into her body made itself known.
She immediately sagged and looked down as best she could with her head strapped so rigidly. She knew her belly had been shot multiple times. Her right breast felt as if it had been hit by a hammer and was burning. There was also a burning, just above her pussy, missing her mound by less than an inch.
The heat of the pole, the soreness of her body, the burning inside her made her hyperaware of everything. Her legs didn’t want to lift her, the strap under her armpits held her up and her hands were clenching.
Then she felt the blood running from her body. Compared to the heat inside and out, the blood was cool, like water droplets.
It was everything she had expected. She looked at her guard and saw him place her panties in his pocket.
Diana relaxed, embracing the pain, listening to the cheers of those in the stands and enjoying the sensation of dying. When the darkness came and he could no longer hold her eyes open, she felt the cold tip of a gun pressed against the side of her head.
She had expected this. She had anticipated this. She had committed the crime of treason hoping for this.
The verdict didn’t surprise her. Then sentence had been what she wanted yet it still shocked her to hear it.
Execution by firing squad. She would be given a medical exam. She would be taken to the public execution grounds, stripped of her uniform and underwear and strapped to a post. Then she would be shot six times, none of them immediately fatal. She would bleed to death, strapped to the pole with everyone who took the time to come to the grounds, watching.
Despite the shock of hearing it, her pussy acted as she expected and she became wet, as she did every time she dreamed of this. How may executions had she attended, how many men and women, undressed in front of their uniform or clothes, inescapably bound and waiting for the order.
Cuffs were placed on her slim wrists by a guard, and another grabbed her arm. She was taken to the back of the courthouse and placed in an SUV.
The ride to the public execution grounds was surreal. Everything she looked at outside the car window, she realized she would never see again. She would never go shopping again. Her strawberry crepe this morning was her last meal. She would never fuck another man. She had unprotected sex with a man she picked up from a bar two nights ago, not worried about disease or pregnancy. She knew this was coming.
One she arrived; she was taken to the waiting room where four other women waited. None were in uniform meaning they had just come from civilian courts. They were all attractive. There was only one pole meaning each would be shot separately. The last one would have to watch the first four being shot and moaning as they died slowly.
The women were called one by one into the room and did not return. She waited thirty minutes before she was called. When she entered, she found a male middle-aged doctor and his older nurse, with only a padded examination chair. There was a door at the far side of the room that must have led out to the range.
“Stand on the scale in the corner.” He said, disinterest in his voice. Then he turned to look at her and she saw interest in his eyes. Before she had joined the military, she had spent some time as a runway model but found she didn’t enjoy the industry.
“Five foot ten, one hundred ten pounds.” The nurse called out.
“Were you a fashion model, Diana?” the doctor asked.
“I was once.” She answered vaguely. What did it matter now?
“Have a seat.”
She sat in the examination chair and didn’t move as he unbuttoned the top two buttons of her crisp uniform shirt. He placed his stethoscope to her chest and listened.
Diana laughed at the absurdity of having her heart checked before her execution.
“I know what you are thinking but it is regulation.” The doctor said, the humor in his voice evident. “You are very calm considering what is about to happen.”
“I expected it and came to grips with it.” She left out that she fantasized about it and had sought it.
The doctor cleared her and opened the far door. A guard motioned for her to take the lead and he walked beside her.
When she opened the door onto the arena, she closed her eyes for a moment. The noonday sun was bright, and the heat was nearly oppressive.
The guard took hold of her arm and escorted her to a bench. One naked woman was already strapped to the pole. The other three sat nervously.
Diana looked behind her and saw the stadium seating was nearly full, perhaps two hundred people to for a Friday execution.
She forced herself to relax but couldn’t help squeezing her thighs together. The squad was called to order and the woman at the pole peed on the ground.
Diana came when the shots went off. The woman had been shot six times, four in her abdomen, one just above her vagina and another in her right breast.
Thanks to the straps the woman didn’t fall, didn’t even move. Diana watched her suffer, listened to her moan and fought the urge to touch herself. The woman took five minutes to die. She was then shot in the head to ensure death and she was unceremoniously dragged by her arms over the dirt to a truck waiting to collect the bodies for burning.
Diana sat through the next three and her arousal never diminished.
Her heart skipped a beat when she was called.
She stood up and collected herself, walking shakily towards the stake. It was bloody from its previous occupants, but she didn’t mind.
“Undress.” Her escort ordered her.
She slipped her military jacket off, glad to be rid of it in the heat. Due to being military issued, the guard collected her uniform rather than allowing it to hit the dusty ground. She began unbuttoning her shirt slowly with shaky hands. Every button, every article of clothing brought her closer to death and the fulfillment of an erotic dream that would soon be a bloody reality.
Once her shirt was gone, she unzipped the back of her skirt and allowed it to drop.
She stood in her black lace bra, black g string and black high heel shoes. She undid her hair from its buns and let it fall free in dark waves across her back.
Having the audience’s attention, she bent over and took her shoes off, then unbuttoned her bra. She handed it to the guard then slipped out of her panties, handing those to the guard as well with a smile.
“Take them home.” She told him.
The man handed her clothes to a female assistant and pressed Diana against the pole. She gasped when she felt the hot metal on her back. He bent down and placed a strap around her ankles. He then placed another one across her knees.
He was face level with her crotch and could no doubt smell her arousal. He looked up at her with a smirk and she winked at him.
He strapped another over her thighs, just below her crotch. He then took a strap and placed it under her arm pits and locked it the pole so she would not fall.
Her head was pushed back, and a strap was placed across her forehead.
Her hands were pulled behind the pole and handcuffs sealed her fate. She was not coming free of this pole alive.
She began gasping, her breathing picking up, her breasts heaving in anticipation. She used what little freedom she had to rub her thighs together.
She opened her eyes and took in the firing squad. Each of the were standing with rifles raised, smiles on their faces and bulges in their pants, unseen to the public behind them.
They were just as affected as she was.
“Ready!”
She took a deep breath and steadied herself.
“Aim!”
She saw one of the men dip his barrel and knew he was aiming for her pussy.
“Fire!”
Diana came hard at the word, and still felt the pleasure even as the pain of metal ripping into her body made itself known.
She immediately sagged and looked down as best she could with her head strapped so rigidly. She knew her belly had been shot multiple times. Her right breast felt as if it had been hit by a hammer and was burning. There was also a burning, just above her pussy, missing her mound by less than an inch.
The heat of the pole, the soreness of her body, the burning inside her made her hyperaware of everything. Her legs didn’t want to lift her, the strap under her armpits held her up and her hands were clenching.
Then she felt the blood running from her body. Compared to the heat inside and out, the blood was cool, like water droplets.
It was everything she had expected. She looked at her guard and saw him place her panties in his pocket.
Diana relaxed, embracing the pain, listening to the cheers of those in the stands and enjoying the sensation of dying. When the darkness came and he could no longer hold her eyes open, she felt the cold tip of a gun pressed against the side of her head.
..........and then the command to get stripped...naked
