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Condemned To Die

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In "The Real Historical Female Jesus", Barb and I discussed it at some length. We ended up with a historically somewhat questionable loincloth of the type Native Americans wore, but since the story was set in the Northeast US at the time of the Revolution we decided that borrowing could have happened. Ann started walking in a skirt, which one of the crowd ripped away, and the loincloth was only removed at the end.
 
Gillian said:
Setting is deliberately indeterminate. But I take your point. Maybe we should not be allowed any intimate garment to cover our modesty?
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Stories here on CF run in what I call a parallel universe, that mimicks real history. This leaves the writers some freedom. It would of course be awkward to have roman soldiers guarding an excecution site armed with AK-47, or driving around with Humvees. I sometimes do some research to check whether what I write makes sense historically, but the background of the stories is inevitably constructed. The largest liberty we allow ourselves is of course in crucifixion stories occurring in a today's society.

Judging from the start of your story, with the husband drawing a sword, but being killed by a firearm, this fits the best with a 16th or 17th century setting. Such is very credible, considering the political and religuous conflicts those times. An esteemed citizen suddenly falling into disgrace due to political intrigues. His wife and daughters are also arrested and convicted (so that it becomes easier to confiscate their properties).

About the 'dress code' before and during the execution, I think you do it the way you find it yourself the most exciting.

One more detail : I would also have the maids and servants crucified together with their former mistress. It adds to the latter's public humiliation to be sentenced the same way as them. But that, I leave to your preferences too.
 
The girks and I cuddled together. For warmth and comfort? And questions. Is father dead? Why have we been arrested? When will they let us go? Why are we in this horrible place?

I try to be reassuring - and be encouraging. Despite my doubts. Richard had been worried about the political situation for a few days although obviously he would not discuss it with a woman. And there had been late night visitors.

I see jane trying to adjust her dress so that her well developed breasts would be less visible. Her breasts were almost as big as mine and she shares my wide hips and little belly. The dress was clearly too small and the buttons were straining. I did my best and then made all of us as presentable as possible.

Two guards arrived at dusk. With four bowls of stew and a hunk of stale bread. And a jug water. I had to go and collect them, aware of his gaze on my breasts. 'Ah lady wilby, dinner is served' 'but you will have to ask nicely'.
 
I look at him. 'I have no money'. I say. But I will put in a good word for you with the governor.

He laughs. No money - milady - but a nice pretty mouth and good tits. He looks me up and down.

I look at him in horror. Never, I say. You cannot expect me to.......

He smiles. And leaves the tray just out of reach, turns on his heel and the outer door bangs shut.
 
I am hungry, but the thirst is worse. And the girls are suffering more. I cannot stand this. I go to the door of the cell and shout. The outer door opens after about ten minutes. Please - we are hungry and thirsty, I plead.

The guard smiles nastily. You should have thought of that. And the price has gone up - you show us those tits and suck our cocks and you will get fed. To my horror there are three guards now. One unlocks the door. Get that dress off and kneel. He laughs. My pleas for not in front of my daughters fall on deaf ears. Talking to the other two. " from what I hear the whole town will soon know lady Wilbys charms inside out'. Reluctantly I start to undo my dress. Knowing I only have thin cotton panties on to cover my modesty.

The first guard pulls down his trousers and his thick erect cock springs out. He moves to me. I have no choice - although retching from the smell of his unwashed cock. He forces it into my reluctant mouth and I do the best I can until my mouth is filled with bitter semen. Then the other two. They grope my breasts and feel crudely between my legs. They pull their trousers up and depart, pushing the trays towards the door so the cold soup spills. I put my skimpy dress back on - the taste of their cum strong in my mouth. And my breasts bruised from their rough hands.

And we all eat the cold unnourishing soup.
 
Wednesday morning dawns. It's cold and we are hungry and thirsty. I don't think any of us got much sleep.

The guards appear. Three. Different Ones this time. One has a short cane. Get that dress off and get on your knees. Three unwashed and strong smelling cocks. And hands everywhere. Breakfast was cold porridge and weak coffee but we all eat and drank ravenously. And I did my best to clean up.

At nine I was taken to see the governor. He was grim - after my unfavourable report. He looked out of the window.

Wilby - here. His tone peremptory. I was showed towards the window.

Fifty male prisoners lined up. Twenty uniformed guards. And three wooden whipping posts about six feet apart. And three sets of stocks. What made my blood run cold was the sight of my two maids, Chloe and Sophie, both pretty. But different in build - Chloe slightly plump with a motherly bosom, and Sophie slim with a very prominent bum that all the men glanced at more than once. In grey prison dresses. Being prodded by two guards with bayonets. The warden, in his uniform, addressing them. Although I could not hear through the window the two young women were clearly crying and pleading.

The governor is beside me. A little demonstration. This time I do not want to damage them too much. So a dozen and a half on the back. He smikes at me. Then a dozen to warm up their tits. And the stocks. The guards need their pleasures, and what could be better than a wriggling naked girl in the stocks. Then we will let the prisoners have a turn - it keeps them quiet and more docile. He laughs.

I watch in horror as Chloe and Sophie are Manacled. And led to the whipping posts. Their dresses taken from them. The chins stretched to a hook and helpless against the cruel wooded post. Four of the guards strip off their shirts and then take up a cat o nine tails and a bullwhip. They practice while the women sob in fear. But there is no escape. The first stroke rakes Chloe's reign shoulder to her left kidney leaving a bloody trail on her soft white skin , then the other guard takes an angry wheel on her shoulder blade. Her legs kicking in agony, Sophie is wimpering in anticipation and the guard waits. Then flays her lower back. The bullwhip across her snickingbher right breast. The scream is terrible. Chloe is trying to wrap herself round the post as the next four strike her, then shphie. Two to each girls bottom make a little blood trickle down their thighs.
 
Great to see a story from you, Gillian. Really good so far. I like the indeterminate period, although it has a feel of late 1700s to me, for some reason. Looking forward to reading more of the (short) future career of these unjustly dispossessed ladies.
 
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The warden calls a halt after a dozen strokes. Both women wailing and bloody. The whips have done real damage to their soft white skin. The soldiers rest for a few minutes.

The governor looks at me. Take off that dress - and bend over that chair. I shake my head, backing away. You can't, I'm just a prisoner.... there are rules. He summons the captain of the guard. Show LADY wilby some bullwhips.

The man takes two down from the wall. This one is the one they are using on the bitches outside. It's lighter with a leather tip. It'll leave a terrible wheal. This one is heavier with a metal tip. It'll cut flesh easily. He stands at ease.

Which guards are best and most accurate with the bullwhip, captain? He thinks for a moment. Bull and Frenchie. Sir!
The governor smiles. Go and get them, capitain. Give them the heavy whips.

And tell them to collect the big titted girl from the cells and use that spare whipping post. The first to take a nipple will earn ten livres. The first to ruin a breast will get twenty. From my pocket. Go ahead captain. I stare in disbelief. No no no you can't. I start to unbutton my dress with fumbling fingers.
 
Chloe and Sophie take the rest of their flogging. The last six. Chloe shrieking as the bullwhip catches her labia. I almost rip my dress off and my panties join it on the floor. Please please no not Jane. I pull my shoulders back - look I've got nice tits. Whip me. Fuck me, rape me please. I beg. On my knees.

Outside Sophie and Chloe are retied backs to the whipping posts. Their breasts exposed. And the four guards step forward, whips ready. The first strike leaves several bloody stripes down Chloe's large right breast.

I almost scream as I see Jane being half dragged. Her dress undone. The two guards take her to the remaining whipping post and remove her dress. Tied with her hands behind the post behind her head, thrusting her breasts out . Like twin targets. The two guards saunter over to collect the heavy bullwhips from the office. Chatting casually - I'll take the bitches tit off in twenty, one Laughs. In your dreams laughs the other.
 
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The governor watches as the stroll back to the females. And uncoil the whips. Jane is sobbing in fear as they check the ropes. And feel her pretty breasts.

Please, I beg. I spread my legs and bend over. The governor smiles. Watching the guards work on the maids breasts. Reducing them to bloody mess. Just whimpering now.

He says - so wilby has offered her pretty bum. Captain, tell your men to just give her a little taste of the whip on her belly. To concentrate her mind. Maybe they will have a chance after the trial.

The two women are untied from the whipping posts and taken to the stocks. Pinioned by neck and hands, naked. Bottoms raised. As the guards line up, eagerly. Legs kicked apart as the first two men drive into their sore and bruised vaginas.
 
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