repost

[vadim69]

2.
Genevieve continued her preparation over the next few days. She gathered a number of items, including the hair of a virgin, plenty of chicken blood, eye of newt, and arcane writings. Genevieve also managed to seduce the Bailiff, and was pleasantly surprised by his enthusiasm for adultery. As satisfied as she was with most of her prep, and her love life, Genevieve was still unsure about the final component of her ritual.

She would need to commune directly with a powerful demon, off-world. Genevieve couldn’t afford a coach to a bigger city with a planar gateway, and knew that she would need to separate her body from her soul in order to make the trip. She wracked her brain for ways that wouldn’t demean her in front of her demonic master, and ruled out poison and most other means of direct suicide. Then she pictured the traveler, heaving breasts leaning over the notched wooden block, head rolling.

She knew what she had to do. She completed the other prep for her ritual, drank a powerful draught of a potion, and then made her way into the Baron’s private hunting ground. Entry there was forbidden on pain of death, and she made sure to be seen. She danced naked through the woods, chanting, masturbating, and defiling her sacred grove. A short time later, the Baron’s troops picked her up.

Genevieve knew her plan was coming in motion, as she was dragged off naked from the Baron’s hunting grounds, and put in a cart. The cart led her through the town square, where she was pelted with rotting fruit, called a whore, called a witch, and more, by leering peasants with their rough-shod clothes. As she reached the scaffold, she stood proud in her nakedness. The Bailiff smiled at her as she stood there.

He walked up to her and whispered, touching her shoulders gently, “I think you already gave me my tip, I’ll make sure this is quick for you. Are you ready? I’m going to miss the way you suck my cock, you beautiful witch.”

Genevieve smiled. “I’ll see you again, don’t worry, friend.”

With that, she walked up confidently to the block. The Bailiff walked up behind her, and gently helped her to kneel down against the straw strewn wood of the scaffold. He pressed firm and calloused hands against her fine shoulders, brushing her red hair to the side. Genevieve leaned her neck down to the block, her firm breasts beautiful on her descent, plump ass held high in the air. She turned her head to the side at this point, and looked directly at the Baron. She smiled at him, and then winked.

“Henry, please do it, I have business to attend to,” she said, smiling.

With that, she stared down into the wicker basket. Genevieve spent a half a second or so staring at the wicker, studying the old bloodstains and the pattern, before she felt a sudden shock, heard a thunk, and found the wicker basket coming at her quickly. Genevieve had a sudden feeling of weightlessness, and felt her head getting light. As her vision started to fade, she found herself lifted up, and could see the crowd of onlookers. Some, like the baron, looked bored, others, like his wife and some of the peasants, looked horny, and others just looked angry.

Genevieve chanted internally as her body and brain shut down, and her senses failed her, knowing that she’d be meeting with her demonic master soon, and in control of true power.

 

[vadim69]

Part II: The Abyss, Revenge, The Next Ritual
The Abyss

Genevieve faded momentarily. Losing all sense and feeling from her physical body was a completely new sensation, and losing the structure and consistency that her body and brain afforded her drew her dangerously close to actual madness. She spent 13 minutes in this formless void, without full access to her memories, without any sense of where she should be, or even really, who she was.

And then, she gained a faint awareness. She instantly knew her name, her purpose, and the name of her demonic master. She also gained a faint memory of her last few moments, and of her quick descent into the basket. She also remembered a number of things that the human senses of her dying body should not have given her. She could see from the Bailiff’s perspective as he brought the axe down on her neck.

From his perspective, her beautiful naked form looked so strong down on the block. So confident, powerful, and brave. And of course she looked brave, because she was there with a purpose. It was amusing for Genevieve to watch the Bailiff turn his vision down to her plump, milky ass pushed out from the block, and stare a bit too long before Genevieve asked him to do the job. The brief reluctance before professionalism brought the heavy axe down was heartening to Genevieve. The image of the axe cleanly descending through her neck, and her head rolling forward into the basket was quite novel.

This heightened consciousness only lasted Genevieve for a short time, as it was replaced by the reality of her demonic master’s home plane. This was a beautiful place, a little oasis in the fluid chaos of the abyss. Most everything was made of onyx, with ruby accents, and a glowing red light over everything.

Genevieve realized at this point that she couldn't feel her body. Panic gripped her for a moment as instincts drilled into her by 33 years of living in a mortal body told her that she should be able to move her fingers and toes, and feel a heartbeat. None of that was there of course, because her original form was dead.

Genevieve looked around the chamber as much as she could from her limited vantage point. Beautiful beings were emerging from the onyx, men with rippling muscles and small horns, women with statuesque figures and barbed tails. They stood before her in their nakedness, onyx bodies glistening with a strange wetness. They all spoke at once as a red form descended behind them.

“Genevieve. You've made the trip. You had the courage to embrace chaos and death in order to leave your shell. Use your will to command my servants here and assemble a body. Your mortal form was fetching, and I quite enjoyed observing it, but you have the freedom to choose.”

Genevieve watched in a mix of curiosity and adulation as the red form behind the servants came into focus. Tall, with red skin marbled with black, like a lava flow. Luxurious blond hair in waves, a human like face with eyes mere pits of glowing yellow, massive breasts with small nipples, each nipple pierced, with small demon skulls dangling on chains, a muscular core, a massive penis and strong legs ending in hoofs. Her master then unfurled raven wings from her back.

“If you are worthy of my service, use your will to command my servants.”

Genevieve began the incantations. The unholy words passing wordlessly through her pale lips. The demonic servants did not heed her commands.

Genevieve felt for a moment as helpless as she had when 14 minutes ago, and in another life, a heavy blade sheared through her neck, as all she could focus on for a moment was the shock of sharp and fast pain, a thunderous sound of wood on metal, and the brief question of whether she was just forfeiting her life, or ascending to greater power.

She was comforted in that moment by the realization that she had played the Baron and Bailiff, and used them as just other pawns in her ritual. She recalled that her previous incantations had required the use of her fingers, so she imagined fingers.

With that boost of confidence and power, she used her will, and the power of her demonic master to control these beautiful demonic beings like puppets.

Her first order of business was to get a body. So, she willed it, and one of the beautiful feminine forms knelt down. A pair of male forms moved in. One began rhythmically fucking the kneeling demonic servant, and the other drew a blade of onyx from the demonic substance of her master's plane.

Genevieve focused her will on the blade, sharpening it. The demonic servant not providing jackhammer thrusts leveled the blade at the neck of the female form. The demonic servants turned to her, and Genevieve smiled in approval. Over the rhythmic thumping of the brutal demon sex, there was a whistling sound as the perfectly sharp onyx blade sang.

The female demonic servant's head flew through the air for about 2 meters before crashing onto the floor, nose first. Crimson blood spurt into the air, and the body jerked rhythmically as the male demonic servant continued jackhammer fucking it.

2 demonic servants lifted Genevieve’s head, carrying it gingerly, and setting it on the stump. She melded the stump to her neck using her will, and slowly became master of a new form. Familiar pleasures of being filled with a thick phallus were her first sensations in the new body, followed quickly by 2 things 1) a powerful orgasm as she gained control of her fingers and began exploring her new clit, and 2) her master's cock in her mouth.

This trial period of sex, and bodily shaping took months and transformed Genevieve from a mortal sorceress of some power to an apotheosis, where she could only partially recognize her previous mortal form.

She skewed fairly close to her old form, only making minor adjustments such as making her nose a bit smaller, adding an iridescent hue to her eyes, and making sure that her clit could grow to extreme proportions when she needed it to.

Revenge

Genevieve's first move towards establishing greater chaos in the mortal realm was petty revenge, coupled with rape and a direct assault on the Lord of her former land. She planned to deliver a certain kind of Justice to the Baron who had thoughtlessly ordered a beautiful young traveler beheaded for simple trespass.

She first harassed the Baron with dark dreams. In his dreams, the Baron would be bedding one of his servants, when, moments from orgasm, her face would be replaced by the Travelers beautiful face, before her head would tumble from her shoulders, and his wife would enter the chamber with the Bailiff, and order him restrained by footmen. At the end of each of those dreams, his wife mounted him, and the Bailiff would force him to lay, facing up, neck against the headboard before bringing the axe down.

As Genevieve predicted, The Baron reacted with paranoia and simplistic murderous expediency. He accused his wife, and the Bailiff of treason, and sentenced them to the block.When the time for sentencing came, the Baron’s wife, Fiona, a pretty and plump woman with dark hair and eyes, ascended the scaffold to the block. The Baron wanted her to go first, in order to cruelly test the skill of the footman who had just been drafted for headsman duty.

She quaked as she walked up to the block in a simple white dress. The dress left her cleavage and neck exposed, and she had tied her hair to afford a clean shot. Fiona hoped that this would save her unnecessary indignity and pain.

As she walked up the scaffold, the Baron’s subjects looked on in delight. The death of a noble was not a common sight, and they had a certain lust to see that nobles bled as well as anyone else. Fiona walked up to the block, mumbled prayers nervously, and waited for further instruction. The inexperienced new headsman was not confident enough to instruct her, so after deathly nervousness, she tried to break the tension with a joke.

“So, I know I'll be giving my head, but.. who does a Baron’s wife have to blow to get her head chopped off?”

The young headsman blushed, and paused for a moment, eyes fixated on her plump lips and cleavage. He muttered for a second, and asked her to kneel.

When Fiona knelt in front of the block, Genevieve appeared in a puff of smoke, to the smell of brimstone, and gasps from the assembled crowd. Several demonic servitors appeared as well. She spoke:

“Fiona, to answer your question, take me in your mouth for a moment, and I will not allow this lad to take your head. In fact, all I need is your consent, and I'll help you slay your cheating, murderous husband.”

Genevieve pulled up her skirt, revealing a big, veiny cock. Fiona crawled on all fours to approach her, and nodded with consent as she took the cock in her mouth.

The audience, including the young footman, stood in awe as the Baron’s wife slobbered up and down Genevieve's cock, gagging as she attempted to deepthroat it. The Baron cried out in protest, but was seized by the ensorcelled guards around him, and dragged down from his stands, and then up to the scaffold. The Bailiff was released as well, and ascended the scaffold to join.

As the Baron made his way up to the scaffold, Genevieve came hard. The Baron’s wife pulled back, taking spurts of sticky white cum on her lips, chin, neck and chest. She then walked over to the would-be headsman , pulled his cock from his trousers, and began sucking. The footmen led The Baron to the block as his beautiful plump wife made short work of her would be killer (taking her second sticky load of the day down her throat). Genevieve ordered the footmen to restrain the Baron, and approached the Bailiff. Touching his sex through his pants.

 

[vadim69]

Part II: The Abyss, Revenge, The Next Ritual
The Abyss 2
“Fuck the Baron like you fucked me our second night. Save your cum for me, but fuck him hard as I know you can,” she purred.

The Bailiff was instantly hard at this, and dropped his trousers to approach the Baron from behind. The crowd marveled as he rubbed his hard cock on the Baron's clothed bottom, than his bare taint, and forced a finger into the Baron's mouth. With that wet finger, he briefly teased the Baron’s asshole before gently plunging the head of his cock in, to a moan of pain from the Baron.

The Bailiff slowly picked up speed, fucking the Baron and remembering that beautiful night when he snuck out from his wife to fuck Genevieve in the ass under the moonlight by a bubbling brook. He knew he was hers, so he kept his pace slow to save his load. All the while, the Baron's wife was wiping cum from her lips, and picking up the axe that her would be killer had dropped.

The Baron stared into the basket. At first he saw an imperfect wicker weave, stained with dried blood. Then, as he started to get hard, and moan with pleasure from the Bailiff's cock hitting his prostate, he saw the beautiful face of the traveler he had had executed for trespassing staring up at him with dead eyes and a shorn neck. He screamed out, and came hard, spurting cum onto the straw mat.

“Her head can't be in this basket, she’s been dead for 6 months! This must be foul sorcery!”

His wife laughed and replied “of course it's foul sorcery. I just sucked the cock of a woman that I thought was dead, and who previously didn't have a cock. All your guards were charmed to turn against you, and the Bailiff, who I don't believe generally fancies men just treated you to his thick cock. This is vengeance, my dear husband.”

Fiona swung the axe down with all her might. The blade came down at the base of the Baron’s skull, cleaving through his brainstem, and getting partially stuck in the gory mess of his skull. She pulled the axe out with all her might, and brought it down again, this time severing her husband's head.

Genevieve turned to Fiona, and whispered her master's name. Fiona began chanting it as Genevieve pushed the Baron's corpse aside, taking his place on the block, pushing her thick white ass in the air, and taking a strong ass fucking from the Bailiff. The crowd chanted the name of her dark master as the Bailiff came hard, dribbling white cum from her asshole.

The Ritual - First head

Over the next 169 minutes, Genevieve asked one person to come to the block after another. She would take 13 heads, and 13 souls, before dropping her enchantment, and allowing her demons to run rampant to destroy remaining bastions of authority. Each celebrant would be called to the block, and asked to name the next person in line, until all 13 were called. Each would be asked if they were willing, and if so, would be afforded one final orgasm in the name of her dark master.

Fiona was called first. And protested at first. “You promised I wouldn’t lose my head if I helped with your plan,” she said.

“No I didn’t. I just told you that you’d be spared from this inexperienced headsman. I’m giving you the best. I should know. He treated me very well when I was first dispatched. Those rough hands know their way around an axe.”

Genevieve asked her to surrender the axe to the Bailiff, and Fiona handed it over willingly, giving him a peck on the cheek, and letting her dress slip down as she stepped away from him. Fiona then approached the block.

“I know the drill here, and I can make myself cum better than anyone. By the way, I want you to take Drianna, the scullery maid my dastard husband fucked every night after dinner next.”

Fiona went on her hands and knees in front of the block. She rested on one hand, and both knees, taking her remaining hand under her dress, and up to her wet pussy. She took her time, adapting her leisurely nightly ritual to this new position. In the meantime, demonic servants dragged Drianna from the crowd to the scaffold, stripping her and giving her a close-up view of what would soon be her fate.

What started with one plump finger slowly stroking her wet pussy slowly escalated to two. From there, Fiona sped up her rhythm, alternating between her clit, g-spot, and less sensitive areas when it got to be too much. The mortal fear and sense of sexual exhibitionism that gripped Fiona put her in a more excitable place, and she came hard, squirting on the straw while remembering how efficient of a headsman the Bailiff is.

“Ooooh, oooh, ooh, I'm ready, chop off my head in the name of Deresser, the Lord of the Black Pit, she squealed,” assuming the position, staring into the basket with her hands behind her back, rough wood of the block against her plump neck.

The Bailiff touched her comfortingly on the shoulders, then rested the blade on her neck for a second to line up the shot. He started a countdown, and then brought the axe down after 4 counts. The blade passed through with ease, sending Fiona's pretty, plump head tumbling into the basket to join her husbands. Drianna shuddered in horror watching the head be pulled from the basket. She knew that in 13 minutes or less, she'd be a blinking head, staring out at the crowd, pulled away from her beautiful body with it's thick hips, small well-formed breasts, and perfect ass.

At least she know she'd get to condemn one of her enemies to the block...

 

[thehangingtree]

Genevieve pictured herself up there, her own plump ass up in the air, submitting to the bailiff. She had never been particularly attracted to the bailiff before, but wanted nothing more than to fuck him. Genevieve was pulled out of imagining the bailiff’s strong arms pulling on her hair to hear a countdown start.

“1……, 2……”

And at that, the axe came down. It was lightning fast, and made a solid thunk noise as the heavy blade cleaved through the traveler’s neck. Her head jumped forward, plopping into the wicker basket in front of the block. Blood spurted heavily from her neck stump onto straw as her body slumped forward. As the traveler died, the bailiff lifted her head from the basket, displaying it to the Baron and his wife. The Baron nodded, and smiled.

The traveler’s head was placed on a spike. Her body was buried in an unmarked grave, and the Baron and his wife forgot her within several days.

I approve... even if the traveler doesn't!!!

 

[vadim69]

• 
  Hitomi's Final Holiday (written by Carlos and Hitomi 1
• Mahmud has been in Hong Kong for three years. His travel agency, specialized in adventure trips, was beginning to take off. One morning the first customer was a very attractive Chinese woman of distinguished looks. She was probably in her mid-thirties. Shoulder length black hair and misty beautiful eyes. She was used to turn a few heads around when she walked past.
  As soon as she sat down in from of Mahmud, she asked.
  -It’s true that you are an Afghan, born in the Paestum Mountains? - She spoke with the tone of a person used to be obeyed.
  -Yes madam, in a small village, in a very remote valley. Why?
  -Please, I will like you to answer my questions. I have in mind a very special trip. I have been told that you are very efficient, and your background could make you the perfect person for managing this project. If so, you will be very well paid. Believe me.
  -You have my undivided attention. Go ahead madam.
  - Well, now that I have confirmed your birthplace, you could tell me if it’s true that in your valley there is no other law that the Islamic, and no other justice that the administered by the mullahs.
  -That’s right. As I said is a very isolated area.
  -It’s also true that a woman caught in adultery may be beheaded?
  - Yes, that is the normal punishment. In the main square, on a Friday, so that nobody will miss the show-continued Mahmud- And usually, she would receive a hard whipping first. I can tell you that my fellow Afghans are a little backward.
  -Well…-she said- what I’m about to tell you will probably shock you a great deal, but since I can remember I have had a very disturbing sexual fantasy. In it I see myself being taken to my execution. I climb the scaffold stairs and then, naked and in front of hundreds of people, I’m beheaded.
  Mahmud, amazed, started to say something but the woman cut him short.
  -Please let me finish. I was born a very rich woman. I have duplicated my inheritance…I’m quite good at business. I have everything to be happy. But unfortunately, I have this fantasy, this obsession. In the beginning it was just a very stimulating daydreaming to masturbate myself with. After some time, it wasn’t enough.
  So, I began to organize orgies with friends, in which we simulated my execution. I have had tremendous orgasms on my knees, my neck on a block, my hands tied, and with my assumed executioner, taking me from behind.
  Mahmud opened his mouth again, but was unable to say anything.
  -This perversion of mine kept getting stronger with the years and the simulations don’t satisfy me any longer. With the passing of time, it grows more powerful and disturbing. I crave for my beheading.
  I am no longer able of carrying on with a normal life –she continued- Of course I would prefer to erase this kind of fantasy from my mind, and I have been trying to do so for years. Even with professional help. But it always comes back. In the end, I quitted fighting it. I have accepted that this madness is a part of me, and will be in my mind as long as I live.
  I’m 37 years old; I have been rich all my life. I have tried almost everything. The only remaining option is to make my fantasy come true. If I wait too much, I know, someday I will regret it. So I have decided that now is a good moment to make it happen. I still have a body good enough to climb the scaffold naked. - After that she remained silent and at last, Mahmud found some words to express his surprise.
  -Could you explain what all that means, and exactly what do you want from me?
  -It means that I am sure that my best, my only possible choice, is to be beheaded for real. So, I’m planning my execution and I want you to take care of everything.
  -Do you want to die?
  -No! Not at all! What I want is to be beheaded…not in any way, but exactly according to my fantasy. That is what I want! To fulfil my fantasy! I have to! I can’t think of anything else! I told you…I can’t live a normal life anymore.
  My execution has become an unbearable obsession. I know it sounds absolutely crazy but I have no choice-she kept talking, now in a very agitated way-And I wish I didn’t have to die to accomplish my dream, but there is no way I can have my head cut off in front of a bunch of people, and at the same time keep on living.
  Death is the very unpleasant consequence of making my fantasy real. It’s the price I will have to pay for living up my execution.
  -Forgive me, but I don’t understand you.
  -I’ll try to explain it. But it’s not easy to understand; even for me it is difficult. I suppose I’m crazy or a pervert or probably both…but I can’t help it. Anyhow, the sessions in which we simulate my execution no longer satisfy me. No matter how perfect the scene or the setting or the details are. And the reason is because I know that it’s not real. Nobody is going to cut my head off. I know everything is a performance and everybody is acting. It’s a farce, just a play.
  What I want, what I need, is to live the anticipation of knowing that I have been condemned to death. Be convinced that I’m going to be beheaded for real. That a man, my executioner, is going to rape me, to flog me and then cut my head off. I want to be taken naked to the scaffold in a square, in front of a lot of people. Being sure that everyone of then will go wild when, in a few minutes, the executioner raises my severed head!
  All this powerful feelings can’t be faked. To live the ultimate experience,it’s has to be for real! This is what excites me, this is what I want and crave for…And nothing less…
  I know that this is the only possible conclusion for my obsession…And my life…
  So, as I already said, better now that I can climb naked the last steps, and when I am proud of my body.
  Of course,it would be wonderful to be able to live after the execution, even if only to repeat it many times! Sadly, things don’t work that way.
  -Well! - Continued the woman after a long silence-what a speech! I guess I needed to say all this amazing thoughts aloud. Did you understand anything at all?
  -Only a little. I guess what you said has some logic in a strange and twisted way. But why pay me? You can set your execution here in your Hong Kong home, by your own pool. I’m sure there will be hundreds of volunteers for witnessing the execution of a beautiful naked woman. Yours friends will be delighted. And as for the executioner, I think it is also not difficult to find.
  -Yes, you are probably right, but since I can choose and I will only be able to do it once, I prefer something more elaborate. For instance, the less people knowing that I asked and volunteered for my execution, the better.
  So, to be more precise, I would like you to travel to your village as soon as possible and find out if my plan is feasible. You will have a big amount of money at your disposal for bribes or for any expenses you need to make in order to stage my fantasy. Ideally only the local mullah and the executioner need to know that I’m eager to be executed and everything is happening according to my own plan.
  It should be easy for you to fix me an orgy with some men and then to denounce us to the mutawas, so that we are caught red-handed. Nothing, of course, will happen to the men, but for me, and infidel and sacrilegious woman, a death sentence should be the outcome.
  I also want to die naked. I expect you to obtain that from the Mullah. He can justify it saying that, being a shameless infidel, I deserve that additional humiliation.
  What could be more difficult is the matter of the executioner. He has to know also my preferences, and consent in executing me accordingly. The relationship with my executioner could be very important.
  Can you understand my needs?

 

[vadim69]

Hitomi's Final Holiday (written by Carlos and Hitomi 2
-As I said...No, I don’t...but in a perverted way of thinking...I follow you...-answered Mahmud.
-Well, apart from you and those two, nobody else should know about my fantasy. For the villagers I will be a stupid infidel, caught sinning and condemned to a well-deserved death.
Go there –continued the woman- Find out if my fantasy may become real.
If everything goes well, we’ll meet in Pakistan in some weeks.
You will take me into Afghanistan and your village. Once everything is set in motion, I want you to stay there, taking care of everything and staging my last performance according to my wishes.
Besides, you will have to film my execution and take care of my remains. Once my head and corpse had been properly exhibited in the scaffold, you will preserve my head and send it to my lawyers here. That will be the proof of my demise so they will pay the second instalments. You will distribute the money as you think best.
As for my body, you can dispose it in any way you choose, perhaps feed it to the dogs, but don’t untie me.
And finally- she continued, with an expression less sure-…I want you to take care of me during the proceedings.
–Take care of you? You ask me to make sure that you are tortured, raped and executed naked in front of a bunch of backward peasants. You also request me to pack your head and put your body in the trash or given to the dogs, still tied of course! But nevertheless, you want me to take care of you!
Truly, I can’t think of better ways to take care of you!
The woman smiled for the first time. That made her even more attractive, thought Mahmud.
- I understand your shock. As I said I don’t even understand it myself. I’ll try to make it clearer. What worries me is to lose my nerves when I no longer have a choice. Once I am sentenced to die,there will be no escape.
One thing is to die, excited and eager, in exchange for the ultimate experience and another very different, to be dragged whimpering and begging to the scaffold.
I’m afraid of changing my mind at the last moment.
I expect you to help me to maintain the spirit and to behave like a lady in front of the block.
-…I see...
- What is your answer?
- What will you do if I refuse?
- I will look for another man. But for what I have been told, you are the perfect choice. I will still die, probably in a much less satisfying way.
I can be a perverted lunatic, but I am no fool. I have considered my options and you are the person I want to take care of my execution. But again, before you make up your mind, consider that I will be executed soon. I have my mind set on that. But you can make it much, much better for me.
-I don’t even know your name.
-Hitomi. I am Chinese though I have Portuguese blood in my veins too as my grandmother was from Macau, once a colony of Portugal. One of my former boyfriends, a Japanese, gave me this name and I kind of liked it. Hitomi means the pupils of your eyes.
-Well, Miss Hitomi. I accept with a condition. Let me try to make you desist, until the last possible moment. If I fail, I’ll try to make your execution the most exciting experience...Owff! Even said out loud sounds crazy! If we reach that point, and I expect we won´t, I could have a solution for the question of the executioner. As I said, I expect you to change your mind.
-I don’t think I will. But I honestly accept. I will keep an open mind, listen to you and think again everything. But once my destiny is sealed, you will support me and take care of everything. By the way, you can just call me Hitomi.
-It’s a deal-answered Mahmud.
-Thank you very much Mahmud. This is very important for me- she said with an irresistible smile – I’m sure that is my destiny and your help will be critical to fulfil it - She adopted once again a distant and business-like attitude-Here you are everything in writing:
My fantasy, our economical agreement, my lawyers address and my e-mail- She handed him a bulky envelope- There is also instructions of how to withdraw money from the account I have set up for you. If everything turns out as I expect, we’ll see each other next time in Pakistan...and you will be about to guide me in my last journey...Thank you very much Mahmud...really this means a lot for me.
And smiling again she got up and left the agency.
Three weeks later Hitomi received a short message of Mahmud.
He deemed the project possible, advising her to take care of any pending affairs and start planning to travel to Pakistan in ten days. He will send more information soon, and give her the address of a Hotel in Islamabad, where they will meet.
Of course she has been expecting news from him, but anyhow it was a shock when she learned that her execution was possible and that the first steps have been taken in order to get her head cut off.
The familiar mix of feelings and sensations exploded once again. She was terrified of dying but very excited at the same time. Imaging herself kneeling naked in front of the block with the executioner waiting beside her was the most powerful and perturbing emotion.
She went to her room and stripped in front of a full-length mirror. Locking her hands at her back she looked at herself. Her body was beautiful with full breasts, wide hips and long legs. She wondered how she will look without a head, with her hands tied, lying on the scaffold’s floor.
Planning in advance for the possible outcome, she had taken care of everything. Her lawyers had precise instructions of how to proceed, should an accident occur during one or her frequent trips. So, she has nothing to do at the moment. Nothing to do but wait.
Four days after the first message, a more extensive e-mail arrived with pictures annexed. In it, Mahmud, already in Pakistan, explained that he had completed his reconnaissance mission.
He had had a long talk with the current Mullah. Mahmud found him intelligent and ready to cooperate for money.
He had explained to him Hitomi’s inclinations and desires. He explained that she had a troubled conscience and wanted to be punished for her many sins. Almost for sure the Mullah, did not believe it, but did not argue the motives and accepted. The town was very poor and he would be able to do many good things with the money that Hitomi offered.
Mahmud had also found the perfect solution for the Executioner. He had a good friend Carlos. They grew together at the village。 Carlos was also an Afghan but he took up a Spanish name after he went abroad to study. They had remained in contact though. Later, Carlos went to Kabul University and had a position there teaching English and Afghan literature. In spite of his wide education and great sensitivity, he was powerfully built and had an inclination to kinky sex. Remembering all this, Mahmud had asked him if he was ready to take the task of beheading Hitomi, should the opportunity arise. He read the execution’s script, provided by Hitomi, and after that he was very excited with his intended role in the “performance”.
But he asked persistently about Hitomi's free-will in the matter. He, under no circumstances would do something like that, unless she was absolutely sure of her wishes.
Mahmud eased his worries and agreed that he will be at the village “visiting” relatives at the right moment. The Mullah also agreed with entrusting Carlos the task should the plan take place. Carlos had even written a letter to Hitomi introducing himself and proposing her some steps for her preparation. He promised to take good care of all the details for her complete satisfaction if she decided to carry on.
Amazed, Hitomi read twice her intended executioner instructions. She should, from now on until they meet, sleep stark naked. With hands and ankles tied. Also, she should wear her hair in the same way she will use on the scaffold; that is, pinned up so that the hair will not obstruct the blade. Carlos also suggested a small addition to Hitomi’s plan. In his opinion, her ankles should be tied once she knelt in front of the block.
The images annexed included a good collection of the village, the Mullah, the executioner and even the platform in the public square used, among other things, as scaffold when needed.
In the pictures, the Mullah had the look of a humble man. The professor-executioner was a pleasant surprise. He was very corpulent, with strong features, a shaved head but with intelligent eyes. Hitomi found him a very attractive man.
Anyhow, upon reading all this, she experienced an attack of pure panic. This was for real! This was getting out of hand! Fantasy was becoming reality! How could she be planning her own execution?
Next day, she decided, she would send a message to M. telling him to forget the whole crazy plan. She would pay him handsomely for his time and he will be a happy man. Wasn’t it really what he wanted?
Calmer now, she dressed and went out to do some shopping, see some friends and forget all about her madness.
But while doing all these, several times that evening, she remembered the chance she has of living his wildest fantasy.
Returning home, she found herself very aroused. Again, she tried to forget everything and went to bed and decided again to forsake her absurd scheme.
Nevertheless, after a couple of hours thrashing round in bed, she got up on impulse and stripped again in front of her bedroom mirror
She admired her reflection. She looked fantastic. She had her pubic hair trimmed and her sex was partially open. Her waist narrow, her well-shaped breasts a 34C…
She turned one way and the other. She even tried to be critical but concluded that she will look fabulous kneeling in front of the block...Kneeling in front of the block!!
“I’m absolutely crazy!” she thought once again. But nevertheless, she was experiencing again the old feeling, that strange combination of fear and arousal. Her sex was getting wet...like every time she thought of her possible execution.
After fantasizing for some minutes, she started with her preparations.
First, she put her hair up and tied it in a bun. “Out of the way of the sword” she reflected. Then she tied her ankles and then fastened her hands at her back with a slip knot. With it, she could free herself in about a minute.
Then, with great caution, she got on her knees. Should she lose her balance and fall forward; she wouldn’t be able to stop hitting the floor hard.
“Better if the executioner ties my ankles after I kneel at the block. Will be a pity to spoil my face, hitting the block, before he cuts it off.” she thought. She adjusted her position, and observed her reflection.
“I’m complying with my executioner instructions” She reflected, getting more and more excited. She felt very sexy. After some time, she stood up and very cautiously with small steps she went to her bed. She let herself fall face down on it. For a second, she panicked, falling with no chance to put her hands in front of her. Even on the soft mattress the fall was hard, and she felt the bed shake with the impact of her body.
Being tied was uncomfortable, and she shifted her position. She was excited and was very conscious of her breasts with erected nipples against the sheets.
“There are many chances of having to sleep like this the rest of my life. A short life...probably...Better to get used” she thought while pressing her moist labia on the bed.
“This is madness. In the morning I will fell calmer and I will definitely call this entire bizarre scheme out...I will unbind myself in a moment...”
But before she did it, she drifted into sleep and was soon dreaming.

 

[vadim69]

Hitomi's Final Holiday (written by Carlos and Hitomi 3
It was a shocking dream that felt surprisingly real.
She was already in the afghan village, in middle of the square. She was walking to the scaffold, her last walk. Everything looked exactly the same than in the pictures M. had sent. All the villagers were gathered to watch her die.
She was naked of course, her hands tied at her back. Walking proudly to meet her executioner, she was calm and felt at peace. She felt sure that this was her destiny. She had been born only to be beheaded here and now.
Carlos was waiting for her, smiling on top of the scaffold’s stairs. He had a big scimitar at his side. He greeted her and taking her by the elbow proceeded to present her to the public gathered on the four sides of the platform. On every one, she turned around so everybody could have a good look at her. In front of the Mullah, both of then bowed their heads and were corresponded in the same manner. Carlos placed his hand on her buttocks and gently pushed her towards the awaiting block and instructed her to kneel.
She obeyed, and with care adjusted her pace in relation to the distance away from the block. The executioner then tied her ankles and told her to put her neck on the block.
He suggested she kept her hands open and to make a fist as a signal when she felt ready for the sword.
She placed her neck on the wood, stretching it as much as much as possible. She felt her breasts hang and noticed that in this position, bums up and knees spread apart, she would be giving a superb view of her sex to the public.
She felt every sensation in an intense way, with an enhanced level of perception.
In her dream, she didn’t experience much surprise when she realized that now she was able to look at herself also from outside her body.
Her awareness had somehow unfolded, and while still feeling herself kneeling in front of the block and feeling the breeze caressing her naked body, she was seeing the whole scene from aloft. The square, the people, the scaffold, Carlos and herself; everything was spread out below her. She looked in fascination, and observed with detachment how Carlos was getting ready to deliver the blow that will kill her.
It was very exciting. She looked into the basket that will soon receive her head, took a deep breath and closed her hands.
The scimitar came down and Hitomi could see and feel how her head fell into the basket. Her body remained still for a long instant. Then, she started to fall sideways releasing a strong spurt of blood by the severed neck.
The legs bent a couple of times as she came to rest face up.
Hitomi found her body beautiful and elegant in spite of being headless.
Hands and ankles bound, with her magnificent breasts and cunt in plain view.
In the meantime, the executioner had already picked up and raised her head. Her face displayed a peaceful expression and the hint of a smile. All this gave to Hitomi a feeling more sexy than macabre and she felt her arousal and excitement growing.
At that moment, she awoke on her bed in Hong Kong.
She was so aroused that immediately, spreading her thighs as much at her bounds permitted, she grinded and rubbed anxiously her sex against the bed. In a few moments, she reached a tremendous orgasm that shook her body and left her breathless.
When she recovered a little bit, she realized that it was already daylight. She remained in her bed, shocked by the absolute sense of reality and clarity of the dream. She was able to remember even the tiniest detail and soon got convinced that she had just witnessed her future; that trying to resist her fate was pointless.
Upon reaching this conclusion she felt much calmer, and soon, without removing her bounds, she was asleep again. This time it was a peaceful, deep and dreamless sleep.
She awoke a couple of hours later feeling well rested and with her mind set. She was going to Pakistan. Doing so, she reflected, doesn’t mean that she is going to carry out the plan. It will be perfectly possible to back off up to the moment of her actual arrest. But deep inside her she was sure that she will not turn back, once she started the way to meet Carlos and his blade.
She untied herself, took a long shower, got dressed and went to visit her lawyer. She gave him instructions to activate the plan already put in place for this circumstance and updated her will for the last time. She returned home and prepared a very small luggage.
Two days later she met with Mahmud the bar of his hotel in Islamabad. He filled her up with the latest details.
-Well, if you still want to go ahead, we’ll travel tomorrow by plane to Haret, this is the closest airfield to my village. From there and by helicopter, your money helps a lot, we will arrive the next valley and then we’ll climb by car the last fifteen miles. We’ll avoid the village and go directly to the place I have prepared for you. It’s a bungalow that belonged to an Englishman and is the more decent place in the area. It’s situated two miles from the town itself.
There, I have arranged a kind of wild party for Thursday. That night, if everything goes as planned, you will stay in jail and already sentenced to death. The execution will take place the next morning, Friday. It is holiday and everybody could attend.
Again, are you sure you really want this to happen?
-Yes. I want to fulfil my fantasy more than ever. I had a dream at home and I saw myself beheaded. It was so real...so unlike any other dream I ever had, that I am convinced that I was given the chance of witnessing my future.
-There has to be something I can say to change your mind. This is total madness!
-No, Mahmud. I really appreciate your concern about me and I know you meant well, but after seeing myself beheaded in my dream...I have to go ahead...It was so real! I am absolutely sure that if I don’t do this now, I would spend the rest of my life wondering why I didn’t do it when I had the chance and was so close to fulfilling my life-long fantasy. Again, thank you. And by the way, when I last met with my lawyer, I raised the amount of money you will receive if I climb the scaffold’s steps.
-That wasn’t necessary.
- I know, but I wanted to do it. You are doing a very good job making this entire plan work...One more thing...Would you sleep with me tonight?
-It will be an honour and a pleasure. ..Of course, if you really wish it.
- Yes. I don’t want to be alone tonight… but also, I really like you.
One hour later, she prepared herself to bed in the same way she had done since receiving Carlos’s letter. Mahmud knew her orders and didn’t ask. Besides he couldn’t help but felt aroused by the situation. She was also very excited and they made intense and tender love several times that night. Hitomi remained in bondage until dawn. In the morning she was taken again. Mahmud penetrated her deep with some kind of wild desperation.
She thanked him and when he tried again to make her change her mind, she just smiled.
Next day everything went as planned and they found the bungalow in the state Mahmud has left it the previous week. He left for the village before dark. The place was plain, but comfortable enough. In spite of what awaited her the next morning, she had a good night’s sleep.
At mid-morning, two young men showed up at the bungalow. They spoke very sketchy English but undoubtedly, they had been well instructed by Mahmud because soon they were practicing wild sex. Hitomi was wearing a short slutty corset and her “fuck-me-and-then-execute-me” shoes.
Several times during the next hours she contemplated the chance of asking the men to leave her and go away. She was quite confident they would comply. And she could yet go home and forget. But she never did it. So, in the end, by the early afternoon, the mutawas, alerted by Mahmud according to their plan, showed up. The Mullah was with then, and when they arrived, they found her tied by her wrists to a ceiling beam. She was being taken by the two men at the same time.
The two young men took their leave in a hurry while she was untied and, stark naked, presented to the Mullah. She was experiencing the familiar mixture of humiliation, arousal and fear.
The Mullah was apparently furious when asked her:
-I was told that a terrible sin was being committed here. I wanted to see by myself.
The Mullah wanted to be sure of her free will and the firmness of her intentions. He wanted the money and didn´t mind seeing this gorgeous mad Chinese woman climbing naked the scaffold steps. But on the other hand, he didn´t want a platoon of western infantry asking questions about her in a few weeks. So, he offered her some room to manoeuvre.
- You had been found practicing a terrible sin. But you were tied, my child.
If these men forced you, you have not sinned.
Otherwise I will have no other option than punish your sin. And the penalty can be only death!
She bowed her head and answered with a slightly trembling voice:
-I am guilty. I asked them to do it.
-So be it, then- declared the Mullah sadly- May God be merciful with your sins. You will be punished according to the law.
He turned to the mutawas and instructed- Take this woman to the village. Tomorrow she is to be whipped and beheaded. Naked, as she sinned.

 

[vadim69]

Hitomi's Final Holiday (written by Carlos and Hitomi 4
Hitomi felt a shiver down her spine. Her death sentenced had been just pronounced. She felt for the first time the turmoil of feelings that will be with her until the end. The fear realizing that things were now out of her control and she was about to be killed; but also the arousal and the tingling in her pussy when hearing the words; whipped, beheaded, naked…
After that, the whole group took the horses and started for the village. There were not enough animals for everybody and a young mutawa was left with a mule, to take care of the prisoner’s transfer.
He helped her to mount the mule and went back into the bungalow to collect something.
Well, I did it! There is no way out or turning back now! –Hitomi was still reflecting - Here I am naked tied on the back of a mule and condemned, at last, to death.
She tried to analyse her feelings. Soon she would start the journey that would carry her to the jail and to the scaffold.
She would be put to humiliating death the next morning, exactly as she had dreamed so many times! This time for real!
Now, at last, there was no longer use in thinking or debating with herself.
She felt at peace. She looked at the mountains. There was very little vegetation, but the landscape was breath-taking and beautiful. The temperature was also pleasant to be naked. She had selected well the time of the year.
With this trip her end was beginning and she felt very excited. Now her only option was to try and met her execution like a real lady.
The young mutawa left the house with a wood stick in his hand intended for driving the mule.
Without thinking twice, Hitomi smiled to him and offered her bum.
The young man was a little puzzled, but soon understood, and hit both her and the mule with the stick.
Mmm! Thanks- whispered Hitomi, and the animal started down the path.
Hitomi realized that she, in all her fantasies, had never considered that the place of the orgy and the site of the arrest was so far away from the village, she had not anticipated this trip.
She was quite sure that it has been a very interesting idea added by Mahmud.
The path winded down the mountain towards the valley and it took an hour for the mule to make the descent.
It resulted for Hitomi in an intense experience that she enjoyed immensely. The reality was beginning to surpass her fantasies.
This is happening for real!-She kept thinking- I am a pig being carried to the slaughter house. To be publicly sacrificed in the most humiliating way!
And she was determined to give the best possible show to the public.
She was as frightened as she had anticipated, but the idea of her headless, tied body on the scaffold the next morning caused her a state of arousal much bigger than the fear.
To her mind came the memory of old engravings of prisoners of the Spanish Inquisition, being taken to the torture on donkey’s backs.
Well -she thought smiling- I win, in humiliation and punishment. I’m being taken naked to my execution!
The best thing was that the dices had been thrown. She had given herself in, forsaken her free will.
Nobody could save her now, and this gave her a sensation of relief and liberation. No longer had she to ponder over the utter madness of putting herself in the hands of the Executioner by her own choice. She could now relish the experience, with no choice left to her.
In a few hours she will climb naked the scaffold steps, to surrender her head to the scimitar. This knowledge was what was making her experience so unique, so enormously exciting. An experience worth to die for. And she had never felt as sexy as now. Naked, on top of a mule, being taken to her execution!
Undoubtedly that intense sexual arousal was the dominant emotion. In fact, it was so strong that the rubbing of her cunt against the fur of the mule walking down the rough road, triggered the first one of many explosive orgasms that she will experience during the remainder of her life.
From time to time the boy whipped the rump of the mule and her ass with the birch stick.
And to each blow Hitomi gave him polite thanks.
He couldn’t take his eyes away of her naked body and Hitomi noticed his evident erection.
She decided to alleviate him and, out of pity, moved her breasts in offer.
Delighted, he helped her down the mule; she kneeled on the side of the road and bend forward so he could penetrate her from the rear.
Very soon he exploded inside her and after a very short recovery period helped her back on the animal.
She saw herself now as a new Lady Godiva, parading around naked, but with the difference that she wasn’t going to be loved and worshiped, nor spared.
Her arrival at the village resulted in another very exciting and humiliating experience, not included in her fantasies.
The news of her arrival had spread in the small place and everybody was waiting to see the naked infidel whore being taken to the jail.
And the show was really worth to see.
A beautiful infidel with pearly skin, tied on top of the mule, naked but holding her head high on her way to the scaffold!
She felt everybody’s eyes on her. She couldn´t understand the words, but the meaning of the comments was evident: amazement, contempt, lust, admiration and even some pity.
She straightened on her mount proudly. They were close to the town square when some kids started throwing her clay balls as amusement for all.
The first blows took her by surprise and turned out to be quite painful. She ducked instinctively, but immediately, she straightened herself offering her body to the coming balls.
She was there on her own will and to be humiliated and to suffer. These people were entitled to their fun and to have some distraction, and she was decided to give them a good one!
She thanked in silence the unexpected punishment, while she received many painful hits.
Upon entering the village’s centre, she recognized it by the photos. She looked at the jail’s building and at the wooden platform that was used for many purposes. A chill went through her spine. Tomorrow it will serve as her scaffold.
They led the mule towards the jail’s gate, and helped her down from her mount.
The Mullah, accompanied for several notables, was waiting to see her arrival. With them was another man hiding his face. She was sure she recognized Mahmud.
She was led into the jail, where she was treated with courtesy. The gaoler untied her and provided water and means for tiding herself up. A woman brought a clean short robe for her and she donned it, out of courtesy. After, she was offered food, although she barely tasted it.
Then she was lock up in a cell. The only one they have. She removed her gown and lied down in a bundle of rugs on the floor.
She was now almost at peace, even though the familiar mix of arousal and fear was always present.
She even managed to sleep for a few hours. Her last thoughts before falling asleep was:-I am just a naked pig, locked up in the slaughter house. To be sacrificed tomorrow. And I came willingly asking for it! And I don’t regret it. At least not yet!
Being less than to two hundred meters from the scaffold and less than 10 hours away of her execution, she expected to dream again with her beheading. But she experienced another dreamless night.
Before dawn, she was showed to a rustic bathroom. She used it and tidied herself up as best as she could. Then she was offered food again, but she just drank some tea. Then she was led to an interior patio and left there, alone and untied.
She realized immediately that the small inner yard lighted by the morning Sun, was in fact a torture chamber.
A wooden beam crossed the patio high, from wall to wall, with a pulley attached to it. A smaller piece, also of wood, a crossbar two meters long with several ropes hanging from it, was suspended from the pulley. Several leather whips were in sight. She shivered from fear and anticipation.
And suddenly he was there; he was Carlos, her executioner. She recognized him immediately and he was even more handsome than in the pictures.
She knelt in front of him.
Carlos made her rise and took her in his arms.
She was now trembling.
-What is it, did you change your mind? I don’t think that know l could be able to snake you out of here, but I can try...
-No...No! I haven’t changed my mind…is my destiny…I am ready…but...
-It’s just normal to be afraid. You are about to face a hard trial. You have made the most difficult choice electing to make your fantasy come true, and I admire you for that! And I will try to help you to make it as intense as possible.
I have been entrusted with executing your sentence. I will have to whip you and behead you. You are going to die. Do you understand that?
-Yes...
-And you still want to carry out your plan all the way?
-But...yes, of course! You know that this is my biggest dream!
-Yes but one thing is to dream about this in Honk Kong, and another very different to cross those doors- he indicated two big doors on the wall that faced the square.-Soon, when you cross that doors you will see the whole village waiting to see you die, and me on top of the scaffold waiting to kill you!
Her body shook imagining, but she said:
-I am ready. Take me!
-If this is what you want, it will certainly be a pleasure to perform my task today. You have been very brave! From now on, I will take care of everything; try to relax.
She shook her head.
-No, I do not want to relax. I want to experience what a condemned really feel in the same situation. And please, do not treat me some lady. Whip me, insult me and then abuse my body as you would if you were the executioner and I, one who was to be humiliated and to die by your sword.
-Very well, if this is what you wish. Carlos was surprised at her request. He had expected her needing to be comforted so that she could have the courage to face her chosen ordeal. But here she was, asking to be treated roughly, raped to be more precise. He was, however, also excited at the prospect. A beautiful woman was asking him to take full advantage of her body and to rough handle her in any way he liked. He could feel his manhood rising even as these thoughts ran through his mind.
-Trying to look unperturbed, he took out the hanging ropes he had prepared and her under the beam and started to tie her wrist together
-Carlos, I wish you to enjoy everything you are going to do to me today.
-Don’t worry. I will and you will die like a queen.
-Again, she shook her head.
-No! I have made up my mind. I will be brave but I do not want to put on a fake mask to meet my death. Do not make me die like a queen. Let me die as a slut, a condemned slut!
Carlos could control his lust no more. With fire in his eyes, he test-cracked his whip once and it made a loud sound as it hit the floor.
-Will marks be left on my body with the whipping? She asked.
-Carlos laughed.
- So, you wish to die a slut but still dying beautiful. No, the flogging will hurt, but won’t leave your skin marked and you will be beautiful on the scaffold.
At this she gave out a sigh of relief.
He finished tying her with her arms apart and pulled her up until her feet barely touched the ground.

 

[vadim69]

Hitomi's Final Holiday (written by Carlos and Hitomi 5
She was now breathing heavily, expecting with great arousal the first stroke of Carlos’s whip.
She was surprised for the immediate and powerful connection established between her, a woman sentenced to die and her Executioner.
She had immediately liked him on the pictures, but this was much stronger than she expected. She was now convinced that she will give him immense pleasure with her torture and beheading, and just that, was enough for her to offer her live.
But on the other hand, she could feel how much he wanted to please her, as strange as it sounded, torturing and beheading her!
And at last, the whip landed on her flesh for the first time!
She twitched at the pain and surprise, but also experienced a very strange and powerful sensation. The moment the pain subsided, she repositioned her body wishing to receive the next!
She could feel the link strengthening. Both of them could! Carlos was whipping Hitomi for her pleasure and she wanted to be flogged for his!
Soon she was sensually twisting and dancing from the ropes as if she wanted to evade another landing of the whip but actually trying to offer everything to it. He started with her back and soon her ass, back and tights were red hot. He turned her around and continued the flogging while she offered her tits and cunt, thrusting her hips forward, to the whip.
Every crack of the leather against her skin was like an electric discharge for both of them.
Offering herself to Carlos in such a complete way, she was feeling much more pleasure than pain. Moans of pleasure replaced the moans of pain and she had her first climax soon.
-Aaaarrh…whip me! I deserve to be whip and I deserve to die…she was lost in her fantasy now. No longer a successful business woman, she had changed her role to a common female criminal about to die, a slut who had copulated with strange men she never knew in her life willingly and this actually freed her from her former self, having to put up a mask of cool pretence as the boss of her employees. For the very first time in her life, she understood what it was to be a woman, a woman of flesh and blood, of desire and she was willing to die for this. She knew she had made the right choice…
But when after a long period of punishment their eyes met, Carlos threw the whip aside and took Hitomi in her arms, kissing her mouth hard.
She returned the kiss with the same passion while whispering in his ear:
-Whip me harder! Use me! Take me! Please take me to the scaffold! I am yours to die!
He couldn’t believe how powerful their feelings were and soon was deep inside her, lifting her body with his powerful thrusts amid her long moans. Soon both of them exploded screaming in an incredible orgasm, and when they recovered a little, still locked in a tight embrace, she again whispered in a hoarse voice:
-Just to have experienced this, it’s worth my head and my life!
Still panting he said:
-I wish I had met you in other circumstances. I will never meet another woman like you.
-Don’t fool yourself. This circumstance is the main element of what we are feeling. We know that very soon, I will be knelling by the block stretching my neck, so you can behead me!...That is a huge part of this experience!
...So take the whip and keep flogging me! Do your duty, my love!
Hearing her call him her love revived his energy and took up the whip again.
He kept punishing her. Understanding her body language and aiming at the parts she proffered for him and wanted kissed by the whip. He took her again and again from behind and looking into her eyes...at last she was dangling from the beam, exhausted by the pain and the pleasure.
Carlos put the whip away and took her down.
He led her to a bench and explained to Hitomi how her execution was going to take place. She listened with great attention.
Then they practiced the position she will have to take at the block and how to kneel with her hands crossed at her back.
Last of all, still kneeling in front of him, she asked Carlos to let her take him in her mouth.
-I want to have your flavour in my mouth when I die-she explained-So when you lift my severed head, you will know that your seed is in my mouth. So, he let her suck him until he came once again sprouting in her mouth.
-I am ready - she told Carlos when she finished licking his penis. Then he explained to her:
-One last thing, some people say that a person remains conscious for several seconds after being beheaded. Just in case, I will be quick picking up your head from the basket, and while showing it I will try to show you your own body so you can see it if you are still conscious. Would you like to see your beheaded body?
-Oh, yes please! That would be a most precious gift you give me! I want to see how my body looks after the head has been cut off. If I can still feel, I am sure I will have a last round of orgasm then…
-After a pause, she asked, What are you going to do with my body without my head?
-It will be left on display for a day and then dragged out of the village for dogs, as you wished.
-Good! She responded with satisfaction in her voice. She never wanted a decent burial and now she had her wish. She could imagine how her lovely torso being pulled apart by fighting dogs and her flesh torn out to fill the stomachs of those poor, hungry dogs.
-I have to go now. There are things to prepare. In about an hour you will be led to the scaffold by that door. I will be waiting for you. Be brave. Everything will be done according to your fantasy.
He left, and the woman that brought her breakfast returned. She was led to the bathroom again, and when she finished, led her back to the yard and tied again her arms and hands at her back. For the last time, Hitomi reflected.
The woman put her robe over her shoulders and left her alone. She sat peacefully again on the bench, enjoying the Sun.
After what she thought a very short time, the gaoler came into the yard, opened the door and by signs instructed her to rise.
When she reached the door, she gasped. As she had anticipated the door opened to the village square, with the scaffold in the middle.
The whole village population had gathered in the space. Every man, woman and child had come to witness her beheading. On the scaffold with a big scimitar sword, Carlos was waiting to cut her head off. All conversations died and every person looked at her.
Suddenly she was trembling with fear; There was no way she was going to be able to walk to her executioner! She wanted to run, to tell everybody that she had changed her mind that she didn’t want to die anymore! But of the hundreds of people gathered on the square only three, she reflected, knew that she had planned all this, asked for it! And those three were Carlos, the Mullah and Mahmud...
Then, she saw Mahmud. He was dressed in local clothes standing by the door, very close to her. His eyed locked and she got her courage back and nodded.
-It’s everything arranged to your liking?-He was uttering words with his lips in silence but she understood him.
-Everything is perfect; you've outdone yourself. This is the best holiday of my life! And for the look of it, is going to be the last!- What about the filming? She replied in the same way with her lip-movement.
-Don’t worry I have three cameras working since yesterday. Everything will be there.
-Good, please masturbate for me all the way.
-She saw Mahmud nodded and knew he understood her perfectly. He had already slip his right hand underneath the robe he was wearing.
Her beautiful 34c breasts were already trying to escape from the robe which had been thrown over her shoulders. She noticed he was following her with his eyes, focusing on the exposed part of her breasts.
-Goodbye Mahmud; It is nice to know you but I have an appointment with my executioner! She conveyed her farewell without speaking.
-And she could feel his reply done in similar fashion:
-Goodbye, Hitomi I will remember you as long as I live!
She smiled, and taking a deep breath, started her last walk.
Carlos was also waiting for her from the scaffold.
The silenced broke and the people parted to let her pass and started to tell her every kind of things. She couldn’t understand the words, but the meanings again, were clear enough!
Some were just insults undoubtedly; other judging by the tone were comments of admiration and some of them sounded very much full of pity for her and her fate.
Mahmud had given back her courage and she walked proud, determined and very excited to meet her death.
She climbed the stairs without faltering and swinging her bum erotically for the public benefit.
Carlos met her on top. He took hold of a corner and tore away her robe, leaving her naked. The crowd gasped.
Taking Hitomi by her elbow, Carlos led her to face the four sides of the platform, exhibiting the naked condemned woman to the audience.
Every time she was instructed to turn around, so everybody could have a good view of her body from all sides.
In front of the Mullah both inclined their heads and the holy man answered in the same way, with a sad but also lustful expressions in his face.
Now Carlos with a hand on her ass led her to the block, where she knelt without hesitation. She had judged the distance carefully and now adjusted her approach to make sure she did not stumble.
-Do not lean on the block yet. There is no hurry. Now I am going to tie your ankles. Because you wanted to go tied like a sow in the slaughter house isn’t it? Carlos whispered into her ear.
-She nodded, crossing her ankles. Her breathing was now elaborated and her arousal mounting. She couldn’t believe how close she was now to the fulfilment of her darkest fantasies...and to the end of her life!
He finished bonding her and whispered:
-Ready. Now the only thing left it’s to sacrifice the sow. Again, there is no hurry. Everybody is enjoying this. Remember my instructions. When you feel ready lean on the block, stretch your neck as much as you can. Then, open your hands, and when you are ready for the sword, close them making a fist as a signal.
I will behead you then.
-Yes. Thank you so much Carlos. She knew those were her last words
A great silence had descended over the village. Kneeling by the block with her back still proudly straight, she looked around taking everything in. She could feel every pair of eyes on her naked body and she felt so excited, her proud breasts with pointed nipples, her waist narrow, her bare bottom and sexy...she knew she looked gorgeous!...Then she made out Mahmud in front of her, very close to the scaffold and nodded to him once again. He smiled back and she leaned her head on the block without hesitation. When her neck touched the wood part, another powerful shiver went through her whole body.
In front of her eyes was the basket that where her head would soon fall.
Every detail was so exciting!
She could now feel the breeze caressing her naked flesh, her breasts over-hanging, pressed against the wooden block, her ass high with her legs parted, giving a perfect view of her moist cunt.
She carefully adjusted her position, trying to look the best and thought how her beautiful tied body will soon look without her head!
Her executioner, with the pretence of adjusting her position, touched her buttocks and slid a finger between her legs, pressuring her clitoris hard.
Hitomi wasn’t expecting it and an incredibly powerful orgasm racked her. She fought hard to maintain her position so that the orgasm would last longer and when the waves of pleasure subsided, gasped:
-Thank you, Carlos! Behead me now, I am ready!
She locked her eyes on Mahmud’s and taking a deep breath, stretched he neck to give Carlos a good target and closed her hands.
Everything was exactly right, this was her destiny and she felt happy, as she sensed Carlos lifting his scimitar. She was smiling when she heard the sword come down whistling.
She felt the blow and for an instant thought that Carlos had missed.
Then the basket rose to her and she realized that she had been beheaded!
She then saw the crowd again as the Executioner lifted her head from the basket for everyone to see.
And her body; She saw her body, as in her dream, with no head now, still for a second and then falling sideways, sprouting a long jet of blood from the severed neck, her legs also fought twice against her bonds and came to rest face up, her breasts quivering, the nipples erect betraying her pleasure, beautiful, sexy, elegant and headless!
Hands and ankles bound, with her magnificent breasts and sex in plain view.
-Ooh! My corpse looks very sexy-she thought as darkness started to close on her.
-I did it! I got my fantasy...I had been executed...and everything is all right...-And those were her last conscious thought...

 

[The Fallen Angel]

Hi @vadim69 . Unfortunately I had to remove your last three posts as they were not in English. Please repost a translation.

 

[vadim69]

author khanblast

Simple Death by Hanging​

She was marched down to the town square. Georgeous, skinny, blonde, 18 years old.
5'7 tall. Escorted by the arm by the town sheriff. Hands cuffed behind her. Her green
eyes barely caught the sun. She hid her pretty face behind her long hair.
She had on a sporty top with a high-cut bottom that revealed her belly button.
Her legs hugged her skinny jeans that stopped just above her ankles.
Her trial was long and arduous, and she was somewhat relieved that ordeal was behind her;
however the one facing her ahead was much worse. The town gallows came into view, the single
lonely noose flung across it. "Quit your stallin, missy" she was told
by her captor. "I'm not.." she said back in a whiny voice. "I promised the county we'd
have you strung up before afternoon". A crowd of people was parted
by her escort from the county jail. Several of the onlookers gawked at her.
The gallows now as very close. Nothing too fancy, just a baseboard built off the ground,
vertical beam, support, crossbeam, and the thick rope that looked like it belonged out
of an old pirate's story tied into a hangman's noose intended for the pretty young
condemned approaching it. Finally arriving to their destination, the was pulled onto the
edge of the platform. "Take off your shoes" he barked. She kicked off her old white addidas
sneakers. She stood there in her dirty socks. The platform felt cold on her feet.
The sheriff then jerked her arm and pulled her to stand under the noose. "Do you have
to be so rough!?" she whined again. "It's about to get a whole lot worse, missy" he exclaimed
as he placed down a rickety stool and motioned for her to get on. Looking around for any
sense of compassion or comfort, she found none. Not from the sheriff, and not from the crowd.
Chants of "hang her!" and "hang the bitch!" could be heard popping from all directions.
"I'm not going to ask you twice, Get on the fucking stool, girlie" she was ordered.
Her green eyes briefly teared up, but she regained her compusure. "Fine!" she said as she
stepped onto the stool and stood there with a defiant look on her face. The sheriff bent
down and placed another pair of cuffs on her ankles, loosely fastening her feet together.
He then reached up and grabbed the noose which was now head-level with the girl, and
slipped it around her neck. He pulled it snug and brushed the girl's hair out of her face,
"let me get a good look at cha" he said. She failed to make eye contact with him, instead
looking to the side. He stepped back to admire his prep, as she began to quiver. He turned
to the crowd and held up a notebook and read aloud. "Melissa ___ under county law condemned
to death by hanging for the crime of murder". He was met with applause. He turned to her
and said "Do you have any last words?". She simply ignored him and stared into the crowd.


The sheriff placed his foot on the stool and gave it a good lateral shove, sliding it wideways
and out from underneath poor Melissa's feet. After suddenly falling and feeling the noose
close tightly around her neck Melissa immediately opened her mouth and tried to gasp for air,
she got none and started stretch her dirty feet around looking for the stool. Finding no
footing she started to panic and kick her feet which made quite a bit of noise as the metal
cuffs and chains around her ankles danced around as she fluttered. Her face looked downright
terrified as she opened her mouth over and over and over again trying to breathe. Her hands
couldn't get free behind her back and she was slowly strangling to death with the noose
around her neck. The crowd cheered as her kicking and gasping became more and more frantic.
After a minute of suffering, her face turned cherry red and her tongue stuck out. Some in
the crowd thought she'd had enough and called for her to be let down, but those requests
fell on deaf ears. Melissa continued to hang. Eventually slowing to a slight rhythmic motion,
spinning around on the rope showing the soiled bottoms of her feet which were still reaching
and peddling for the ground...

 

[vadim69]

Re: Arachnid's Archive of Old Execution-of-Women Stories​

== The Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA) holds activities largely involving Medieval and Renaissance-themed historical re-creations and re-enactments. The SCA is generally described as a Middle Ages arts revival and recreational organization. ===

. . . . . . My Medieval Day 1

My new boyfriend Douglas is a member of SCA, a group of enthusiasts of medieval times. They dress in period costumes and hold some weekend events, and once every summer they "go to war" for a week. I want to learn more about his activities in SCA, but Doug discourages me.
. Finally I get him to agree to show me around for a day "at war", but he insists it not be Friday -- any day but Friday. So we plan for the next Wednesday that they're playing "war".
. But a big school project is due Friday, and I can't get free before Thursday night. And they don't allow cell phones at SCA events, so I can't even contact Doug to let him know!
. I think about what to do. Finally, I decide not to miss this opportunity, and pack up to go see Doug.

. After driving much of the night, I get to the reservation's parking lot at 8:30 am on Friday. Quickly I change into the gown and robe Doug borrowed for me, and walk up the wooded path to the Registration tent. The squire there seems surprised to be checking in a woman today, but gives me my pendant anyway. He does hand me a list of the rules and emphasizes that I must adhere to all of them, especially the one about the forfeit if our side loses the war. I reply that I'll willingly pay my share -- at that, the squire looks grim.
. I wander the encampment looking for Doug, but although I meet several interesting people who have seen him on previous days no one seems to know where he is now. Finally, offered lunch at a campfire, I hear a rumor that he is part of the war's judging team, and is never around on Fridays. This seems quite odd to me: Doug never mentioned it.
. I decide to enjoy my day at the SCA, and then leave for home after the big communal dinner.
. But at 4 pm a big groan goes up, and several of the women cry out. Quickly the news spreads -- our side has lost the war!
. Damn! I really wasn't prepared to pay a big forfeit. I ask one of the other women if I'll still be able to leave at a decent hour tonight. She looks me over and, realizing I'm new, replies, "Only if you don't draw a red-tipped straw after the dinner tonight. If you do, you won't be leaving ... ever."
. She then goes over with me the rules I was handed. The eighth one clearly states that in the event one side loses the war, one of its noblewomen and two of its common women are to be executed in the winning side's encampment! And the character I'm dressed as is a common woman!

. Dinner is a subdued affair: magnificent, with a roast pig, but the somberness cannot be overcome. Afterwards, the noblewomen gather in the queen's tent, while we common women line up at the master table. The king holds the straws, and one by one we draw them. The third woman in line pulls a red-tipped straw, and breaks down in shrieks and tears.
. We continue drawing. Suddenly a wail goes up from the queen's tent, followed by loud crying. Four more common women draw straws, then it is my turn. The straw I pick has a red tip!!

. The three of us condemned women gather together in the queen's tent. Besides myself, there are the Lady Helena and the herb vendor Gretchen. The king and queen give us their condolences and blessings, and then we are led by an emissary out the rear of the camp and across the battlefield towards the enemy's torch-lit tents -- from which we can already hear the sounds of celebration.
. Again we traverse the back of an encampment, seen by few, into a large tent that clearly is on the edge of the common area.
. Inside wait the enemy king and queen, several ladies to minister to us, and a tall, well-muscled man clothed entirely in black with a matching hood half-covering his face -- our Executioner! I can tell at once it is Doug!

. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???" he cries.
. "I came to see you today. I didn't know what could happen," I sadly reply.
. "You know the Executioner??" blurts out the enemy queen.
. "Of course -- he's ..."
. "SILENCE!" roars the enemy king. "You WILL obey our ways! Know him or not, he has a duty to perform and for that he must remain anonymous!"
. "I won't do it!" shouts Doug.
. "But you must!" the Lady Helena replies. "You told her not to come, and the squire gave her fair warning. And you know what will happen to you, and to all of us, if this agreement we have falls apart!"
. Doug will stand strong for me, I know it!
. But he looks at me and, slowly, says, "She's right. All of us in SCA face prison or even death sentences if any member becomes disgruntled and talks to the law. And the wars would go back to being real, bloody battles. Angela, I'm sorry, but you three are doomed." But then he looks at the enemy king -- "But they'll get someone else to do it! I quit SCA!!!"

. "It's too late..." starts the enemy king, but then -- scarcely believing my own words -- I hear myself speak: "You won't do that Dou... -- Sir Executioner. If I must die, then I want it to be at your gentle hand."
. At that, there is a long silence in the tent.

. Finally the enemy king says, "We must join our subjects and start the ... festivities," and he and his queen leave. Two of the ladies come up to Gretchen and I and begin to bind our arms behind us, as a third wraps the Lady Helena's hair into a high bun.
. Doug stands still a very long time, even as the sounds of revelry from outside begin to increase. Then he says quietly, "As nobility, the Lady Helena will go first. Outside, to the right of this tent, is a scaffold with a block -- I will escort the Lady Helena to it. To the left of this tent is another scaffold, surmounted by a gallows with two nooses. Once the Lady Helena is dispatched the ladies here will bring ... you two women to it."
. Then he slowly turns to the Lady Helena, bows slightly and says, "My Lady, if you please ..."
. The Lady Helena, followed by Doug, walks to the drape covering the entrance to the tent. As she goes through it, a great shout of triumph arises from outside.
. "Quickly, to the peepholes!" says one of the ladies ministering to us. They, Gretchen and I hurry to the right side of the tent and peer through the small, deliberately placed slits in the fabric.
. We watch the Lady Helena, followed by Doug, walk to the steps leading up to the scaffold, ascend them, and position herself behind the block. She kneels, and the crowd becomes silent in respect -- and anticipation. Thrusting her arms out behind her, she bends over and stretches her throat across the block.
. From under the straw, Doug pulls out the hidden axe. He takes a stance beside the Lady Helena, raises the axe high -- and in one powerful stroke brings the blade crashing down on her exposed neck!
. The Lady Helena's severed head rolls in the straw as her body slumps to the platform. The crowd roars, and as Doug picks up the bloody trophy and raises it high the onlookers break into applause.

. With a sick feeling in our stomachs, Gretchen and I turn away from the peepholes. But I find I'm also excited: I know I want to live, but she died so nobly -- I wonder how I will do?
. "Gretchen, Angela, please come to me," says the lady by the draped entrance. "Oh, shit!" I think, "Now it's our turn!" But, pressed by the other lady behind me, I go.
. We follow the first lady out of the tent and to the left, as the crowd again raises a raucous clamor. Doug, a grim dark visage, is already standing on the scaffold. As we climb the thirteen steps, I look to my left -- there on the ground wait two open coffins, the men beside them leering at us.
. Upon reaching the top, the ladies with us make us stop -- and they take off our shoes, telling us it's so that we won't kick them at the crowd. As if in a trance, I don't object. Then Doug takes Gretchen's arm and leads her under the far noose. He loops it over her head, and tightens the knot down under her left ear.
. Then he comes over to me. For a moment I think he is going to give one last kiss -- but then he gently takes my elbow and guides me under my own noose. Slowly he pulls it over my head -- and cinches it down loosely. He steps back.
. Gretchen and I now face a crowd full of bloodlust -- which we are shortly to sate.
. The noose tugs hard at my neck, I am pulled up off my heels -- Doug has taken all the slack out of my rope. With no drop and the loose knot, it will take me a long time to die. I wonder why Doug did that?
. But not for long ... A step behind us -- the crowd once again falls silent -- Doug must have crossed over to the lever!

 

[vadim69]

My Medieval Day 2

. The lever creaks ... "THWUMP!" The front half of the scaffold falls out from beneath us! The noose instantly digs in and holds me up, but Gretchen plummets well over a foot and is jerked hard. The crowd explodes into cheers!
. I do not have time to worry about them. I barely got a breath in before I dropped, and now the noose has nearly choked me off! A deep, rasping wheeze and I manage to draw in half a lungful more.
. My legs start to flail the air, but find nothing to stand on. I wrench at the cord binding my wrists, also to no avail. Only seconds gone, and I am well and truly hanged!
. To my left I can see Gretchen, kicking away just as I am. But her noose closed tighter than mine, and she obviously can't breathe at all. Already her face is reddening. Her eyes meet mine, and my heart goes out when I see the panic in them.
. Few in the crowd have any sympathy for us. Now the catcalls start: "They sent us their worst dancers!", "Wish you could come to my tent tonight, baby?", "You won't like hanging around us!". But it is only the men and half of the common women jeering; most of the other women have relieved looks, thanking God that it is me that is up here and not them.
. My dancing has tightened my noose, and now my gasps don't draw in as much air -- it isn't enough! I start to squirm and twist as well as kick, but the noose is like a band of steel around my neck. My lungs burn, even as my vision reddens and my face grows hot.
. Then I see Gretchen stop kicking and hang limply, her protruding tongue unmoving, her eyes vacant -- she's done for! Instantly, from just behind me I can see Doug point to me -- and in front of us the enemy king shakes his head negatively. Doug has just asked for clemency for me, and it's been denied. I am to join Gretchen.
. The crowd begins to chant "Dance! Dance! Dance!" -- knowing that my end is not far off.
. I buck my legs, gaining a gulp of air, but on falling the noose cinches down and further effort yields nothing. I have breathed my last!
. Still I fight on, though my visions darkens further and there's a roaring in my ears. My kicking becomes weaker, my chest heaves futilely.
. Another minute passes, as my sight begins to redden and my ears buzz. Straining for any bit of fresh air, my lungs ache. I've got to live! With my last ounces of strength I throw my legs out again and again...
. But the end comes regardless. My energy completely gone, like poor Gretchen I too now hang limply. The crowd raises a final cheer as the light, and I, fade away...

. The two executed women hang for half an hour more while the crowd celebrates around them. Then their bodies are cut down and, the nooses still around their necks, placed in the waiting coffins. They and the Lady Helena are taken to a secret field, there to be buried in unmarked graves as the nobility of their side watch.
. In order to maintain his anonymity, Doug is refused permission to attend. But he leaves the SCA the next year anyway, as soon as another executioner is trained -- one who forswears girlfriends.

 

[vadim69]

from Severianus Latro

 

[vadim69]

Ravenka

Swift Justice​

I was lucky in my sad fate. Instead of the town square I was to be executed in the castle courtyard, with only a few witnesses present. I was also allowed to choose my clothing - I picked a simple black dress that exposed my neck and shoulders. I had a couple of days to prepare as an executioner had to be brought in from a neighboring town. Every day, I watched the workers build a scaffold in the middle of the courtyard, and every night, when I was laying in my bed, I wondered about my end.
I deserved to die and I admitted as much during the trial. Even if my step-brother was a monster, he was the lord of the castle after both my father and his twisted crone of a mother passed away. And my attempt at getting rid of him was crude enough to attract unwanted attention: an emissary of our liege lord gave my younger sister a hard choice: she would either condemn me or follow me. And as much as the poor girl loved me, she knew that politics and the law were more important. She had me put under house arrest, locked in a tower to await the arrival of a skilled headsman who would perform the execution in a manner befitting a lady of noble birth. The handmaid who delivered me the poison had no such luck - she was taken to the dungeon and tortured to reveal who gave it to her. The local hangman was to hang both of them on the day before my own execution.

One afternoon, my sister visited me. She handed me a black velvet purse full of coins and looked me in the eyes.
“Madeleine, I’m sorry.” her voice faltered. “The executioner arrived today. Please, give him this…”
“So he strikes true?” I asked.
She just nodded.
“I’m sorry, sis.” I said, tightly holding the purse. “I’m sorry I brought you such shame. But I had to.”
“I understand.” she closed her eyes and put her hands around mine. “We both did what we had to do. I bear you no ill will. And… thank you.”

A few hours after she left, late in the evening, I had another guest. When I saw him, my heart started racing. I went pale with fear and shock, but I could tell that he was embarrassed as well. After all, headsman walking in on his victim already dressed in her nightclothes was not a common occurrence.
He was young and athletic, dressed in black. He wore a half-mask of black leather, leaving his mouth uncovered. His dark blonde hair reached almost down to his shoulders. He calmly took off his gloves and eyed me from head to toe.
“My lady… I was chosen to execute the judgement in your case.” he said, calmly but firmly.
“I know.” I walked up to my desk, to take the purse and give it to him, but he stopped me.
“That should wait. I came only to examine you.”
“Examine me?” I took a step back.
“The technicalities may scare you, my lady.”
“I don’t scare easily.” I replied defiantly.
“I will need to see your neck. Please, turn around and put up your hair.”
I turned around, twisting my hair into a bun. As I held my hair with both hands, the headsman walked up to me.
“Bow your head, my lady.”
I complied, turning my head slightly to look at him. A fine young headsman, specially for me. I smiled, recalling my nightly thoughts.
“You may touch me if you need it.” I said. “I hardly care right now.”
I felt his rough fingers feel the vertebrae in my neck and gasped.
“Is something wrong, my lady?”
For a man of his birth and profession, he was charmingly polite. I haven’t expected that.
“No, no, go on. And tell me… of those ‘technicalities’.”
“Why, my lady… In order to take your head as quickly as possible, I need to be precise. Please, straighten your neck now and look straight ahead.”
As I raised my head back, he put his fingers on the sides of my neck.
“Have you executed any women before?” I asked, starting to shiver.
“No, my lady. I have but recently inherited my office. Does this worry you?”
“Maybe… But since I would be your first…” I giggled.
I wanted him. Right here and now. I wanted his rough hands to grab me and hold me tightly. When he ran his fingers across my throat, I moaned.
“My lady?” he sounded shocked.
“If you have to take my head…” I turned around to face him. “...I am ready to give it to you.”
I let my hair down and then promptly slid the nightshirt off my shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. My nightly thoughts overwhelmed me. Thoughts of mandrake growing at the foot of the gallows as hanged men cummed in their death throes. Thoughts of rope binding my wrists as I walked to the scaffold. Thoughts of steel kissing my neck and sending the spasm of my greatest, final orgasm down my spine. I put my hand on the headsman’s cheek, half-covered by the leather mask.
“Will you fuck me, headsman? Please?”
He looked into my eyes.
“I will, my lady.”
He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me closer. We kissed, like lovers, as I ran my hands across his back and under his shirt. I helped him remove it and he threw it aside.
“Do you have a blindfold?” I asked, unbuckling his belt. “It would be proper to blindfold the condemned, even if she is willing to give you her head…”
“Oh, I do…” he reached into his pocket and took out a wide strip of thick black cloth. “Please turn around, my lady. And do not be afraid, I will lead you.”
As he let me go, I turned away from him. He gently put the blindfold over my eyes and tied it tightly. I felt his rough hands on my arms, sliding down and forward, touching my breasts.
“Are you enjoying it, headsman?” I asked, leaning against him.
“Why, of course, my lady.” he replied, squeezing my breasts. “I did expect some… follies from you, but none of this sort. Are you ready?”
My pussy was wet and I was shivering with anticipation. The headsman apparently understood my moan well, as he grabbed me by the shoulder and turned me around. I sank to my knees, blindly feeling his legs with my hands. I heard his belt buckle clink, and then he grabbed me by the wrist. He basically put his cock, almost fully erect, in my hand.
“As a lady of noble birth, you need not be disgraced by having your hands bound.” he said as I leaned forward. “I trust you will retain your composure, my lady.”
I put my lips around the head of his cock and started sucking. Gently at first, but then I went deeper and deeper on him, wrapping my tongue around his cock, bobbing my head back and forth, hungry for his cum.
“My lady…” he grunted in surprise.
I stopped, letting his cock out of my mouth, and gently cupped his balls in my hand.
“Do you think me a whore, headsman?” still blindfolded, I turned my head up, as if looking at him. “It was my step-brother who taught me all this.”
“Your… step-brother?” he asked.
“The very same one I poisoned.” I kissed the tip of his cock.
“My lady, I’m…” his voice was trembling and he was shaking.
“I did it to protect my sister.” I put my fingers around the shaft of his cock and licked the tip.
“I’m gonna…”
I stroked him, slowly, as the tip of his cock laid on my tongue, ready to shoot into my open mouth.
“...come.”
His hot cum filled my mouth in quick spurts, and I barely managed to swallow it all.
“Do you need to rest, headsman?” I asked, smiling.
“No, my lady. But come, I think you need to lay down.”
He helped me get up and led me to my bed. He laid me down across it, on my back, and sat next to me.
“You asked me about my work.” he put his hand on my thigh. “Why?”
“I’m… curious.” I lied.
“Just… curious?” he asked mockingly.
I felt his fingers slowly slide across my skin.
“Or is there something you want to tell me?”
He was getting dangerously close to my wet pussy. I nervously closed my legs and started breathing faster.
“You don’t want to take the blindfold off… You enjoy it.”
“Yes…” I gasped.
“Why? Please, tell me.”
He reached my pubic mound and started caressing it.
“I wonder, what the condemned feel…” I relaxed my legs. “...during their execution. What it’s like…”
“And that arouses you?”
“Yes… When I have my nightly thoughts. What it’s like, to have my hands tied behind my back, to be led to the scaffold… or to the gallows…”
“Why?”
“I don’t know… Those hanged men, they cum when they die. That must be arousing, to be strangled slowly under your own weight… With the rope around your neck…”
“And the beheading?” he slid a finger between my legs, slowly rubbing my clit. “It’s much more… sudden.”
“It’s the ceremony…” I yielded to his touch. “Being led to the scaffold, with the drums, with everyone watching…”
He moved his hand to the inside of my thigh and spread my legs a little.
“...and then… Facing the headsman, being forced to kneel and blindfolded… It’s…”
I gasped as he slowly sank a finger in my pussy.
“Please, continue.”
I trembled. It was too much. Not only I was confessing my nightly thoughts, but also he did what I did when thinking them. Like he knew.
“Why… why are you doing this?”
“You asked me to, didn’t you?”
“Oh… oh, yes.” my back arched as he kept caressing my pussy. I raised my hands over my head.
“Are you ready?”
He let me go, and I felt him get up. Then he spread my legs wider and I felt him lean over me.
“Yes… For everything.”
He slid his hot, thick cock into my pussy and grabbed me by the wrists. He fucked me. I fixed on that thought. My gasps turned into moans. I wrapped my legs around him, and he kissed me just as I was about to scream.
I was a hot, trembling mess, trying to be quiet, with my wrists in his tight grip. My pussy twitched with his every thrust. I cried as I came, and he kept thrusting. Faster and faster, as if to chase me down.
“Slow… down…”
“No.” he kissed me again.
Then, he suddenly slipped out of me. His cum splashed all over my stomach as I just laid there, shivering and still blindfolded.
“I hope you are satisfied, my lady?” he asked, taking off my blindfold.
“Yes…”
I couldn’t move. I watched as he pulled up his trousers and put his shirt back on.
“Will you strike true?” I asked, weakly.
“I will, my lady.”

In the morning, a handmaid came to help me dress and put my hair up. Then, my sister’s secretary arrived with the guards.
“Lady Madeleine, are you ready?”
“Yes.” I replied, clutching the purse in my hands.
“On the orders of Lady Agnes, I am here to take you to the place of your execution. Any attempt at escape or resistance will lead to your dishonor and death. Guards, take her away.”
I was quickly surrounded: two of the guards walked in front of me, two more behind me. Silently, I walked down the tower stairs, and finally out into the courtyard. The headsman was already waiting at the scaffold, and my sister, along with two of our liege’s emissaries, was standing on the castle’s balcony.
The two guards in front of me stepped aside in front of the scaffold’s steps. I looked at the headsman again, and started trembling with fear and bizarre arousal. That young man whose cock I sucked last night was to behead me now. Silently, I handed him the coins.
“My lady…” he grabbed me by the shoulder and led me to the center of the scaffold. “You have to kneel.”
I went down on my knees, facing the balcony, and put my hands on my knees. Behind me, my sister’s secretary read my sentence aloud.
“Lady Madeleine, you stand accused of poisoning our lord, Marius. The court, following your confession and the confessions of your accomplices, found you guilty and sentenced you to death. By the mercy of our lady, Agnes, you shall be spared the shame and beheaded, as befitting a lady of noble birth. Executioner, do your duty.”
I looked up at my sister just before the headsman tied a blindfold over my eyes. The same one he used yesterday.
“Keep your head straight, my lady.” he advised before I heard him step away.
I tensed up, waiting for the blow. I clenched my lips and tightly closed my eyes when I heard him pick up his sword. As he touched my neck with the blade, taking aim, I held my breath. My heart was pounding, my pussy was wet, and I was fighting the realization that my nightly thoughts came true. I wanted him to take me again. I wanted him to take my head and end it. I wanted him...

The sword swung through the air with a low whistle, a clean, horizontal cut that went through Madeleine’s neck with barely any effort. Lady Agnes witnessed her sister’s head fall off and tumble across the straw, a spurt of blood splashing everywhere as Madeleine’s body jerked uncontrollably and collapsed to the side. Justice has been served.

 

[vadim69]

Severianus Latro

Lysandra Gets the Chair​

 

[vadim69]

1. Stories posted by NeverTrustaDuck

1. The Executioner's Mask
2. Chapter 8

Unfair Outcomes



Jean-Luc would feel the ring burning a hole in his pocket as he made his way down to the cellar. The small measure of peace Emmanuelle's presence had managed to instill in him dissipated as he picked up the sword and got to work. He polished and buffed until the wee hours of the morning.

Leon's incessant shaking woke him up the next morning. He had no recollection of falling asleep. As he rubbed his tired eyes he found that he was slumped down in the chair, his arm hanging over the armrest, his sword on the floor by his feet. His head was bent at an uncomfortable angle and pain shot through it when he attempted to rise.

Today was going to be an interesting day. He couldn't stop the bitterness from colouring his thoughts as he stretched.

Reluctance pulled at him as he changed into his executioner's attire. His hand hesitated as he reached for his mask, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to remind himself if he didn't wear it, his identity would be revealed. He definitely didn't want that.

He quickly tied the mask to his face, ensuring the straps were pulled tight. Picking up the sword, he made his way to the town's main square.



Jean-Luc stood at the edge of the dais and stared out at the amassed crowd, the weight of his sword burning into his hip. He drew it, hearing the blade ring as it was extracted from its sheath. The vibrations ran from the tip all the way to the hilt. Jean-Luc's grip tightened around the hilt as the irrational fear that it wanted to jump out of his hand and start slaying people set in. He could practically feel the sword's lust for blood.

As he twirled the sword around in his grip, reacquainting himself with the balance, Jean-Luc was forced to squint against the light that had been reflected off the blade and was now trying to sear his eyes. The blade had been polished to perfection and it now gleamed in the brightening morning light. There was not even a single hint of the blood it had been responsible for drawing, none of which had been spilt in the midst battle. The sword had never seen a battle as far as he knew. Its express purpose was executions.

Jean-Luc ran his fingers over the edge he had spent hours sharpening, paranoid it had somehow dulled overnight. A sharp pain invaded his senses as a stinging sensation pulsed from his fingertips. A red, beady drop escaped from the tip of his finger, sliding down the blade before it finally rested on the hilt. It twinkled as brightly as the jewels on the pommel before it started to dry, the colour darkening as it crusted on the blade.

Salt and metal assaulted Jean-Luc's taste buds as he sucked his finger into his mouth and studied the blade anew. It didn't gleam anymore but he couldn't help but think it looked more appropriate - more suitable for the occasion.

The sudden roar of the crowd caused him to sheath his sword as he followed their gazes to the other end of the platform. Police officers walked onto the dais, escorting Madame Harnois. Her dirty blonde hair was matted and pinned to the top of her head, but loose tendrils escaped to frame her face, her dress was rumpled and there was dirt smeared across her face and hands. Her expression was weary, but her eyes were sharp, her keen gaze staring straight ahead at the fate that awaited her.

She stared out at the crowd for a few moments, her facial muscles not so much as twitching as the crowd hurled abusive statements at her. She held some of their gazes for a few minutes before she turned to face Jean-Luc.

Jean-Luc froze.

For a moment he was terrified that she had somehow managed to see through the mask and to the person inside - to see his true identity. He had heard rumours of the dead coming back to haunt their executioners and had no idea how some of them stood in front of the crowd with bare heads, for all the world to see who they truly were. He wasn't a superstitious man but if he had thought about it, he still would have worn a mask, just in case. They haunted him enough in his dreams; he didn't need them haunting his waking hours as well.

Geraldine Harnois' lips parted and her tongue darted out to wet her dry, chapped lips. Jean-Luc realised where this was going. This was the part of the execution that he hated, the part where the condemned pleaded and bargained with him for his or her life. This was the part that tore his heart. It was even worse when the condemned was a woman.

Like most men, he felt week and powerless in the face of a woman's tears. He had no idea how to handle himself in that situation and now, combined with his already frayed nerves, he felt even worse. His hand raised, his subconscious wanting to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder and tell her everything would be all right, but he remembered himself just in time.

The hand remained suspended between them, and Geraldine's lips tilted up into the ghost of a smile as something akin to sympathy shone out of her dark eyes. Jean-Luc shifted uncomfortably, hastily pulling his hand back and clearing his throat self-consciously. He looked away from Geraldine and down at the floor. He had no business being on the receiving end of her sympathy, he didn't deserve it.

"Make it quick," Geraldine said, causing Jean-Luc's eyes to snap up to her face, "s'il vous plaît."

Out of all the things Jean-Luc had expected to come out of Madame Harnois' mouth, those words had not even occurred to him. He studied her face, looking for signs of trickery or deceit, but her gaze was steadfast as she squarely met his.

"Please make it quick," she whispered again.

Geraldine raised her hands to her neck, pushing her hair to the side. After some fumbling, she lowered her hands and Jean-Luc was able to see that her right one now held a gold chain. Hanging from the end of the chain was a large, ornate locket, one that she held out in his direction.

"Please," she said again when he failed to move, the necklace still dangling in the air between them.

Jean-Luc knew about the practice of the condemned 'paying' the executioner to make their execution as quick and painless as possible, but he had rarely experienced it first hand.

The first time it had happened to him, he had been with his father. It had been not long after his eighteenth birthday - back when he had not been quite so cynical and jaded - and he had been assisting in a double execution. It had been one of his first and the two men were going to be executed with an axe. It was to be his first time executing with an axe and he had spent hours practicing his technique, making sure he wouldn't screw it up. He had no desire to make the process more painful for the condemned than was absolutely necessary.

When the two men were escorted onto the dais, Jean-Luc had been surprised to see they were both fairly young, not much older than he was. They both looked similar and would have been considered identical if it wasn't for the fact that one had sandy blond hair and the other light brown.

As they were led onto the stage, they came to a stop in front of Jean-Luc and his father, the blond holding his hand out towards Jean-Luc. Jean-Luc blinked, unsure of what he was meant to do. There was a small, black pouch sitting on the centre of the man's palm, a pouch that jingled when it was shaken. Without having to look, he knew there would be coins inside. What he didn't understand was why this man was offering it to him. He was wielding an axe that was about to separate this man's head from his body, and yet the man was offering him a reward?

Taking a step back, Jean-Luc rapidly shook his head from side to side as his breathing escalated. He could barely hear the roar of the crowd over the sound of his blood rushing through his ears. He couldn't do this. This was someone's idea of a sick joke; it had to be.

He watched as the blond's face fell and his eyes turned pleading and a little frightened. The blond reached out his other hand, catching hold of Jean-Luc's and extending it out between them. He placed the pouch on Jean-Luc's palm but before he could close his fingers around it, Jean-Luc jumped back, the pouch falling from his hand and falling with a resounding thud onto the dais. The sound seemed to echo around Jean-Luc's head and he was unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the now opened pouch, the gold Louis d'or coins spilling out, glinting in the sunlight.

Both men fell to the ground, scrambling for the escaping coins and returning them to the pouch. Upon straightening, the blond held out the pouch once again. Before Jean-Luc could decline, his father had held out his hand, accepting the money. Jean-Luc saw the men's facial expressions transform from ones of pleading terror to peaceful relief as they were led to the centre of the dais and made to kneel.

Antoine had pocketed the pouch before he signalled for Jean-Luc to proceed. The execution was about to begin.

Later that day, when they had returned home, Antoine had explained that the condemned would frequently pay their executioner in advance so they didn't turn up to the gallows drunk, and as a consequence, prolong their suffering. This practice, however, could only apply to those executioners who chose to reveal their identities. For those like Antoine and Jean-Luc, the condemned would pay them just prior to execution after seeing that the executioner was sober. It was supposed to encourage the executioner to make it quick and painless. If the executioner was inebriated, the condemned would keep their coin.

Jean-Luc didn't see the purpose of the latter. Any item found to be in the possession of the condemned at the point of execution would automatically become the property of the executioner. He supposed the idea behind the practice was that the executioner would be too drunk to remember.



The locket remained in Madame Harnois' hand, her pleading gaze making the air between them heavy. Jean-Luc couldn't breathe. He could pull in lungfuls of air easily enough, but it didn't seem to be nearly sufficient for his body. He hated the practice of payment; it made him uncomfortable.

Before his mind could dwell on the thought for too long, Jean-Luc's hand reached out and clasped the chain. The weight of the locket was heavy in his hands, far heavier that he had assumed - almost as if it was trying to drag him down into Hell where he belonged.

Jean-Luc pocketed the locked and dragged his eyes up in time to see Madame Harnois' eyes close and the muscles on her face relax. As the officers led her away, Jean-Luc could see her lips moving, forming words that he couldn't hear. Considering she hadn't opened her eyes, he didn't think he was meant to.

Geraldine was led slowly to the middle of the dais, her eyes remaining firmly closed. She knelt in the centre of the dais, her back ramrod straight. Jean-Luc couldn't stop staring at her bare neck, the creamy skin untouched by sunlight. Soon it would be painted in red. With that thought a shiver rolled slowly down his spine.

Movement form the corner of Jean-Luc's eyes caught his attention and he looked just in time to see the officers rise and take a step back. One of the officers nodded at Jean-Luc before walking to the end of the dais, out of the way.

Jean-Luc's breathing hitched and his arms felt like lead weights as he tried to free his sword. As if sensing its owner's mood, the sword stuck in the sheath, reluctant to move. Another tug and it came free, a ringing sound filling Jean-Luc's ears as he once again felt the blade vibrating in his grip.

He couldn't put it off any longer. He had to act now. The crowd were getting restless and wanted to see blood spilt, and soon. In front of his eyes they transformed from relatively normal human beings to vicious vultures, their eyes narrowing, their lips pulling up into sneers and their fingers hooking into claws. His heart started pounding in his chest as they advanced en masse towards the stage.

Jean-Luc blinked and the image disappeared. The crowd had reverted back to the way it was, not exactly docile but not bloodthirsty vultures, either. The feeling of fear, however, would not leave.

He could feel the officers' gazes boring into him, looks of puzzlement on their faces as they wondered what was taking him so long. They didn't question him though; no one questioned an executioner's methods.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly released it as his grip around the sword hilt tightened. Walking over to where MadameHarnois was kneeling, he stopped beside her and planted his feet. From this distance, he should have been able to hear the words Madame Harnois was speaking but they were flying out of her mouth so rapidly that they were incoherent. He managed to catch a few words though, 'sanctifié', 'pardonne-moi', and 'Amen' amongst them. She was praying - her final prayer.

He ignored her words; he had to. Gripping the hilt in both hands, Jean-Luc lined the edge of the blade up with the middle of MadameHarnois' neck. He lifted it away, bringing it up behind him before he swung it around in a horizontal arc, hard and fast.

When the blade connected with flesh, the vibrations from the blade travelled up his arm. Only practice kept his hand steady as he fought to complete the task. As he pulled the sword back, blood sprayed out in an arc, some of it falling back on him and staining his hands and clothes.

The head separated from the neck, rolling a little way away before coming to a stop. It was facing towards Jean-Luc and he could see Madame Harnois' lips still moving, forming the words of prayer. He released his grip on the sword, which clattered to the floor, but he didn't notice. He continued to stare, wide-eyed, at the moving lips. The lips slowed their fervent pace after what seemed like hours but was, in reality, only a few seconds before they stopped altogether.

Unfortunately that hadn't been the first time Jean-Luc had seen such a phenomenon, but familiarity did not soften the blow. It was common for people's limbs to twitch for a few seconds after they had been beheaded, for their lips to move or their eyes to blink. It terrified him every time. He was unsure of whether the condemned could actually feel anything or not. He knew realistically that they shouldn't be able to, but he couldn't help the thought from flying around in his mind.

Sound returned to his ears. The first thing Jean-Luc heard was the roar of the crowd. He knew they were speaking but the chants blended together, forming something completely unique, something that seemed to only happen at executions.

He picked up the head - he couldn't refer to it as MadameHarnois' head without throwing up the non-existent contents of his stomach - by the hair and held it out in front of him for the crowd to see. He only held it out for as long as society dictated before he carefully laid it back down next to the body.

As soon as he exited the stage, the coroner made his way up to claim the body. Jean-Luc didn't pay attention as he wiped his bloodstained sword against his trouser leg before sheathing it. He quickly made his way home, avoiding anyone in the street.

Read Stories The Executioner's Mask | NeverTrustaDuck​

Jean-Luc de Martain has never shown much interest in women. His biggest secret - his secret identity as the to read stories The Executioner's Mask posted by NeverTrustaDuck

teenfic.net

 

[vadim69]

https://teenfic.net/beheading-beheading-37966906.html She marches up the steps, her fiery hair a train behind her, like leaves in the autumn. She holds her head high, but know it soon would be no more. Her cover had been blown, and now there was nothing to do, but to accept her fate. Because she knows that she let her family, her friends, everyone who knew her, and most, herself, down.

She takes one, two, three shuffling steps toward the stage. She is dressed in her finest clothes, a deep blue, velvet gown that hangs heavy and collects at her feet. She tries to keep in the tears that threaten to roll down her cheeks, destroying the mask of makeup, and revealing how ugly she is underneath. Ten years, she thinks, ten years have I been trying, trying, trying to be perfect, to be loved, to be valued. To change. She flashes back to the accident, ten years ago. She was told that she was worth nothing, now that her beautiful face was ruined. She was told that no one would care if she died, because people do not care for those who are not beautiful, who are not flawless. But she can't hold it in anymore.

As she kneels down, she lets her tears run free. Let them see me, ugly, one last time, she thinks. She sobs, gulping in air, her face contorted, like an upset toddler. She feels the makeup that she so carefully applied in the morning slip off her face, and forming a puddle. She cried until there were no more tears left in her, until she was dry, and she could cry no more.

She takes a deep breath, and places her neck on the block, and hears the man raise the axe. She would soon be living no more, and nothing but a mere memory in someone's mind. A projection.

And suddenly, swiftly, the weapon meets her neck. Her head falls into the basket, and within the last few seconds of consciousness, she hears the crowd roar in applause and yelling. Then everything fades to black. And all is lost.

 

[vadim69]

IMHO Almost the best stories about semi-consensual female executions are written in the same style and plot. "Eye for an Eye" http://web.archive.org/web/200812281...m/hang/Eye.htm . See also "The Privileges of Power" https://www.sexstories.com/story/90047/ . Can anyone point out the real author and other stories written in this style?